School’s out for a summer vacation. Here’s a work-related story to mark a ten year work milestone.
A few years ago, a new CVP joined us. He held an offsite for his new management team to mingle and connect. One of the first group exercises was to pair up and share one story about yourself that the other person may not know. I looked around for someone to pair up with, but I was too slow and he caught my eye. So it was me and the boss.
Me first. At this point, I thought back to my five year anniversary. In those days, you would be presented with a heavy lump of crystal and a few words. Irving Kwong was running the team meeting that day and as I walked up to get my award he shared an anecdote about me. The anecdote was: “I only just found out that some people call Matthew, Matt.”
I was a bit miffed that that was the best anecdote that five years of my life had to offer.
Not so with the CVP. I decided to pull one out of the top drawer. So: “I’ve been tear-gassed twice and maced once, and it all happened on the same day.”
Let me take an aside to explain the story, because I didn’t get a chance to that day. After finishing college, I went traveling solo around South America. I lived in Quito, Ecuador for a month. It was an overcast October day and the students were revolting. I was on my way to language class and became caught up in a crowd of students protesting increases in bus fares. The police came piling in with tear gas canisters. That was number one.
In the evening we went to a bar called Papillon. Evenings always concluded with dancing on the tables to Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock and Roll”. This night, someone inexplicably uncorked a tear gas canister in the bar. That was number two.
We decamped to a nightclub down the road. The bar had a system where you drink on a tab all night and pay on the way out. I was with two Kiwi friends who had stepped outside, with my wallet, when I decided to leave. The bouncers didn’t believe my story and I suspect I became rather irritating. They maced me and bundled me out into the street with a few well-landed punches. Three strikes and out.
Anyway, none of that was explained to the CVP because it was his turn. “I was christened Thomas, people call me Tom, but I spell it with an H.”
I felt I had slightly over-shared in the exchange (and got the better of the anecdotes, if I’m honest).
Time was up and the group re-convened. Thom led off by sharing with my peer group that I had been tear gassed twice and maced once. No further context was offered, leaving an inescapable impression among my peers that I must be an inept and repeat predator.
And in case you wondered, I was christened Matthew, but some people call me Matt. Without an H.
This song echoes the journey of discovery and the camaraderie that has lit up the last ten years.