Neither a sheep nor a wolf
Nor a sheepdog nor anything of the sort. I never could fit myself into any of those roles, and they chafed when I tried. Oh, the sheepdog thing is admirable enough, and i try as often as I can to help as many people as I can, because I’m wired that way- and if there is an opportunity for to come to someone’s aid, I will, and do, when i can, in ways that I can.
But no, none of that is me, and won’t ever be. I’m something different, and I’m beginning to be able to really recognize my own, because there are a lot of us out there.
I’m a vulture. It’s a word that has a lot of horrible connotations and everyone hates them, but they are a necessary part of the ecosystem, and they perform an absolutely vital function.
I wade in to the messes that everyone else creates, and I clean them up. Oh, it’s gross and dirty and looked down upon, but i have developed physical and emotional immunities to the gore and the disease, and I will in fact thrive on the mess.
Because there is always a mess. And there are always the people who can go into a situation that looks horrible and profit from it. And people hate them, the opportunists and the mercenaries, who cherrypick through the rubble and make the best out of what they can find.
When you see the vultures circling, remember who made the mess.
Uh huh, the world would be a messy place without the vultures cleaning it up.
At work, I’m the one who gets stuff done. I’m the one my manager can dump half-baked crap on, go out for a two hour lunch to bang his girlfriend/subordinate (in fact she has the same title I have), then come back knowing the job is done (without supervision of course, because my supervisors are off doing the nasty). Which makes me indispensable, because if it wasn’t for me his girlfriend would actually have to supervise someone doing this stuff, and she wouldn’t have those two free hours in the middle of the day. And of course she still gets credit for having supervised me on the project.
But I’m not bitter.
There must be a lot of that going around, Mark, because when I read your comment, it was like reading about my own job.
Maybe I have been following the wrong siren.
Wife was looking at some birds on the water tower and they where vultures. Looked through some optics to be sure. She was sad they had driven off the Hawks and eagles that used to hang out there.
Me, I just glad I dont need to bury bunnies anymore.
Not sure where that lands me in the ecosystem.
Good points, I hadn’t thought of things in ‘those’ terms, but you’re right.
I bit of advice for the classic sheepdog from his “bitch”.
Be very careful when attempting the heroics. Leave your bitch in the dust too many times and she may eventually start looking for a NEW sheepdog (you know, one who doesn’t have that all-consuming need to be always be the damned hero to any damsel in distress.
The stranger is NOT always the most important person in the room.
It’s a trust thing.
Just sayin.
Fred
Folks have learned not ask me to do things for them anymore. I make them run The Gauntlet.
Recently, three relatives, one with a PhD and two with Masters degrees, are trying to hang a Christmas wreath on a brick chimney. They’re attempting to drive something into the mortar with a cordless drill. I’m staying out of it…paying them no mind. But I know what’s going to happen.
They finally admit defeat, bring the “concrete screw” to me and ask why it won’t “go in”. I ask them where’s the package the screw came in. Plainly stated on said package: “3/16 INCH CARBIDE DRILL BIT AND HAMMER DRILL REQUIRED TO INSTALL SCREW”. I ask them where their carbide drill bit and hammer drill is. Blank stares all around.
I’ve become quite the smart-ass.
Indeed, Fred. The sheepdog mentality has its’ own whole set of flaws. When you gonna restart the blog?