Epiphany

One of the things about life that just blows me away is that while the unexamined like may not be worth living, you can contemplate your navel all you like and get nowhere, then be in and of the world as much as you like and get gobsmacked in the face with enlightenment.

Last week, I had a temp gig doing a convention. It's the typical "wear khakis and a white shirt" kind of thing. I showed up at 7 and stuffed the freebies into bags, then stood at the front podium with the other temps and welcomed people to a job fair until it was time to leave.

So Life sets up the first part: I'm a temp at a job fair. I stood on my feet for nine hours smiling at strangers and was envied (and grateful!) for the paycheck.

Somewhere during that first hour on the job, one of the other temps, a nice lady with a sweet smile, was grumbling, because the supervisor had told her to take off her hat. I sympathized, but was also thinking, "Come on, lady. This is a temp convention gig. You don't get to wear your arty-farty hat."

So Life sets up the second part: Someone trying to be "themselves" at a job.

The gig went on as expected. The other temps were nicer than average, though, and I got a free lunch, including some decent cheesecake. Definitely a plus.

The only problem was that the job fair was under-attended. It was a crummy day, weather-wise, and a certain online university was counting on getting a good show from its alumni, which is sort of foolish. Online students don't tend to "bond." You know?

Anyways, a certain famous motivational speaker was scheduled to talk the last hour of the job fair. I directed people to the room and didn't think much about it. I'm not really into motivational speakers.

The fair ended and the speech started, and the other temps and I were milling around, worried we'd be sent home before we made the money we were planning to make, when someone came up and told us to sit in the room with the speaker to be seat-fillers.

I thought, "Thank goodness, we can sit down!"

The payment for sitting, of course, was that we had to listen to this speaker, who actually gets paid to say things like, "You need to love yourself" and "You should write your goals down on a piece of paper."

Seriously, I'm sitting there with sore feet listening to this guy go on and on about how all I need is a good attitude and if I can see the future I can make the future the only person who can control my life is me -- like wonderful, saintly, hard-working people don't get hit by a bus every day of the week -- and then he said something that stopped my clock while Life laughed at me.

It was an off-hand comment from the speaker. He talked about how he got his first "real" job and he had to assimilate to make other people comfortable. The next sentence, he was going on about self-actualization, or some such garbage.

And my brain is going, "Assimilate to make other people comfortable."

Assimilate to make other people comfortable.

Assimilate...

...to make other people...

Don't assimilate to be a sheep, or a robot, or a whatever. Don't become a cubicle drone. Don't...

Wow.

Seriously, I felt like a little person had gotten into my head and kicked my brain in the cerebellum.

My whole life, I've been aware that being "myself" makes other people uncomfortable, and starting around age 10 or so, I've made a point of being "myself" despite other people. I'm a GenXer, after all, and refusing to turn into a drone/sheep is a huge part of the tiny amount of generational culture I have.

Unconsciously -- never even thinking about it, and all the while scoffing previous generational ideals of "peace" and "love" -- I've believed that if I worked hard enough, if I were successful enough, I could somehow earn the right to "be myself." Sure, I'm hardly everyone's cup of tea -- I'm not even everyone's idea of a beverage -- but I thought that I could compensate for my personality by making money and achieving goals.