I guess I have been spoiled
because I have grown up around people who didn’t keep secrets and who communicated openly.
I am boggled by people that won’t answer questions or tell me what’s on their mind or give me information I’ve requested as if it were some huge secret.
My club is trying to assemble the list of members. I cannot get any of the people who have portions of the list to either give it to me, or put the information on the server where it belongs. I am trying to establish a training routine at work, and nobody seems to be interested in letting me know if I am headed in the right direction. I am up to my eyeballs in things I need to do and I cannot get feedback on any of them.
It has been the summer of my missed content. Cut me some slack., people, talk to me.
Knowledge is power. When one has very little of it, one must guard it carefully.
There is that. although most of the people I know who know stuff share pretty easily.
as to not providing what is asked for they might not have it or are afraid it will result in more work for them.
either way, they will keep stuff from the general knowledge base.
What you have just run into, sir, is nothing less than the stark fact that people are afraid of you, afraid of what surrendering these little bits of their information will do to their cozy temporal lives.
You deal with this one of two ways: you either force them to accept your intellectual superiority, or you force yourself to remain at their level.
I took the second path, even though I had an excellent legal path to prevail with. I could have sued my way to at least a captaincy in my Sheriff’s Office, but chose not to, and instead wound up working for two captains who had done that.
I just endrun ’em all. I just sent a mail to the club folks saying “I have the info by friday, or someone else can take care of it” All of a sudden people can communicate, wonder of wonders.
There’s no motivator for the lazy quite like the threat of work, now is there? :D
When my kid was in Cub Scouts in the mid ’80’s, I got railroaded into being advancement chair-fool. At a Cub Pack meeting one mom got her knickers bunched up because according to her lights I shorted her darling snowflake on the recognition of his wondrous achievements. So in front of everyone I admitted my shortcomings and pled for forgiveness by allowing the complaining helicopter mommy (who obviously knew better than I how properly to stroke the already overblown egos of the entitled chirruns) to ascend to the lofty office of “Advancement Chair-idiot”.
She was so grateful she called me up later and called me imaginative dirty names. That was nearly forty years past and she still hates me.
Life is good.