Being a B
In the spirit of the FU carrots, I've been thinking about how hard I've tried not to be a B in life. At work and in general. Believe it or not, it actually weighs on my mind when I interact with people. I think it goes in part with the diva thing. I actually CARE if people think I'm a B.
But not anymore.
I'm tired of being Dr. Mrs. Nice Guy. Nice guys don't seem to finish first or even second. They're finishing frustrated and annoyed and exhausted because of all the tiptoeing around incompetent people.
I'm not saying I'm going out of my way to be a B. I am just going to worry less about it. I am going to have the conversations I need to have fairly and firmly without chewing myself up before, during and after.
I'm going say WWJD only the J doesn't stand for Jesus. It stands for another woman in this business who I admire and respect and doesn't give an S who calls her a B. Because if being confident, direct, and unwilling to eat BS from other people makes you a B, I guess I'll take it. I mean, goodness. Caring is exhausting. I have to hand it to the people who just do their thing and don't think about others. I see why they do it. It's so much easier! Who's got time to worry about feelings?
That's part of the reason it was so hard to adjust to being an investigative reporter. As a general assignment reporter or even a feature reporter, you don't necessarily have to confront people or be aggressive or do stories that are unflattering.
But it's a lot easier to be called the B word when you do stories like this. But as with everything, we adjust and adapt. Skin gets thicker. Priorities shift. Worries lessen.
Who knows, just like when I started to accept that SOME may consider me a diva, maybe being a B will also feel freeing.
Ironically, I was so tickled today when someone described me as "affable." Affable, as in: "friendly, good natured, or easy to talk to."
I guess henceforth he can call me Baffable.