Denial

   

It is a strangely unique human quality (one might almost call it a pandemic), that we cannot handle the truth, especially when it comes to admitting when we are wrong. An ethical topic since the dawn of man, lying, deception and denial have only recently been embraced and studied by scientists, though long known existentially as a sad fact of human existence. Perhaps it is (most probably) rooted in our pride that we have this innate ability to mar reality into the fantastic vision we then thrust upon ourselves and others.  Or maybe it’s our unwillingness to define anything as absolute for fear of falling short; that true and false become blurred shades in a relative existence. Religion, philosophy, history and psychology all  tussle with the notion of our pride or hubris (the delusion of self importance that far exceeds reality, thus warping our need to adhere to normal rules) and document its fatal outcomes. Oedipus, Icarus, Satan, Dr. Frankenstein, Macbeth, Nixon, Tiger Woods, Nebuchadnezzar, Basil Fawlty, Willy Loman, Martha, Oh heck, everyone. Everyone, yes EVERYONE, has an overextended sense of self that results in denying the truth, leading to a destructive situation at some point or another. And that realization is difficult and painful to deal with. Most often, we don’t. And with denial, we don’t have to.  Or maybe we buy into the doctrine of relativism, where there are no absolutes. This shifting sand of a foundation makes it easy to justify what was the red X of historical past as a justifiable stamp of approval when seen through our kaleidoscope-like mental perception of the“for me at this moment” generation. Not to mention the emotionalism that creeps in and affects our factual perception or counterfactual recollection that creates a psychotic alternate dimension of outcomes.  Either/or, whatever your historical, scientific, sociological, ethical or spiritual worldview, the facts are in; we are incapable of being absolutely 100% truthful, even to ourselves. Whether maintaining our self-esteem, or creating serious delusions, it is sad but true (pun intended), we cannot help ourselves (again, pun intended) when it comes to admitting to the truth of our failings. Which makes working in the hyper-critical environment of a kitchen so much fun. I actually had a hard time deciding on an appropriate anecdote for this one, not from lack of material but from a preponderance thereof.

It was.....well, another day in the kitchen. One of my cooks was busy preparing croutons for the upcoming service. I gotta tell you, I have more crouton stories than cats have liv...dogs have fle....ok, I have a lot of crouton stories. Anyway, our salad today was a Caesar salad, and was going to be topped with a nicely toasted golden brown crouton (crostini really) rubbed with a bit of garlic. Not traditional, but nice; the type of thing that explodes with flavor when your teeth have at it, emphasis on explode. As we closed in on service, I could tell it was not going to be a smooth opening. There was that awkward quietness that comes from a station when they are doing something wrong. It's not complete silence, it's a mere susurration, an awkward bustling which spreads discomfort around the kitchen like a sunburn under a starched wool dress shirt at a summer picnic. Normally incidents involving croutons end in smoke and turmoil, but this was different. This was the bustling of someone in denial.
Contrary to what I expect when a crouton fiasco arises, the crisp, golden brown garnishes actually looked quite nice. I was almost ready to pay the cook a compliment. Almost. You see, we were getting ready for a service of 80 to 100 people, and each was to receive a salad, each salad a crouton. One would expect that a person preparing for this would in fact make 100 croutons, if not more to compensate for loss, breakage, human error. What I came to realize was that this individual was way off, only preparing a fraction of what was needed in the next few minutes. And in their denialism, attempted to bypass the inevitable making of more croutons.
CRUNCH a crouton disintegrated as I came on the scene. The cook grabbed another, but paused at my approach.
"No, no, no, try it again." I needed to witness that which I deducted was taking place.
"So, what's the thought? You're going to make twice as many salad croutons by taking big croutons and cutting them in half now?" I asked in disbelief as my cook pushed a pile of dust to the edge of his cutting board. "Well let's see it, let's see it ."
CRUNCH, another crouton semi-exploded as the cook tried to bisect it. One of my other cooks commented that that was at least a little better than the last attempt; some of it might have been salvageable. I'm not sure whether this was done as encouragement or sarcasm, but either way the other cooked offered up their bread knife thinking it might prove to have better results.
CRUNCH
"Yea, yea...that was a little better." I confirmed, I mean after all one becoming one is better than one becoming none.
"So, how many croutons are there here?" I motioned to the tray of Mise en Place as my cook hacked his way through the crunchy toasts with mixed results.
"25" he responded.
"So if there were 25 and you cut each one in half perfectly...we're only going to do 50 covers today?", I mean I was legitimately curious. The other stations, four in total, had prepped for 25 covers apeice. We were planning on a hundred covers. Even with his best efforts, this cook would only be halfway there.
"So no matter how you cut those..."
"I could butterfly them, Chef." He interrupted my line of interrogation.
"Buterfly them?", WOW! This guy was in serious denial. I let him ramble on as his teammates chimed in.
"Well, this is actually working." Again he defended his course of action. Did I hear that right?!? This was working? The carnage was now growing. A couple others threw in their lame suggestions, which muffled out the sole sage advice, which at this point, was to start anew.
"Sooooooooo....?" I lead him,
"Should I make more Chef?"
"I think that would be best."
(enjoy the video)

Let’s face it, acknowledging the truth of our failings hurts. If we just alter our perception of the facts, we can relax at the lemonade stand of denial instead of wincing at the painful squirt in the eye, lemon juicer of reality. Truth can be confining, denial allows us to manipulate the reality into a more palatable elixir, temporary relief; as if we actually have control over this inane sojourn.  One undeniable fact however, is that truth always comes to light. Long term denial (lies and deception either internal or external) never works out, even if there's someone there enabling us through our delusion (and sometimes that someone is us). Perhaps Nietzsche was right with his claim that “the lie is a condition of life”. Everyone deceives, whether others or themselves, and if they tell you they don’t, they just did.

What's love got to do with it?

What kind of lunatic loves to work? As you might suspect, I do. I love to work because I understand its purpose, its meaning, and the intrinsic value it creates in me. We rarely speak of loving our work; quite often we speak to the contrary.  Perhaps it’s because we don’t know the true power of love. When one speaks of love, quite often it is regards to an emotional feeling and romance. The least understood and profound human motivator; easily spoken but enigmatically defined, love has been a hot topic throughout history. But love is much more than we are capable of comprehending, or at least what we commonly attribute to it.  Much more than an emotion, love is an active command verb, like run or go. While on a basic level love satisfies our earliest needs for nurturing, care, protection, stimulation and social contact, its real power lies in what it makes us capable of doing. Scientists have shown that emotional fondness for something can increase our abilities. Heightening of neurotransmitters Norepinephrine (adrenaline) and Phenylethylamine released during ‘loving’ situations focus attention, create feelings of euphoria, increase alertness, focus mental recall, and most interesting of all, when taken away can trigger depression. Scientifically speaking, love increases our abilities which makes us better workers. Therefore,  It makes sense to love your work. .

I had the pleasure of being a corporate tycoon media mogul’s chef as part of my career. Wonderful work if you can find it. The hours were great and the compensation was generous, especially when compared to my compadres in the restaurant side of the business. It certainly allowed me the ability to provide for and tend to, my family. I worked with an enthusiastic crew, and within the confines of a bizarre framework, was  allowed to be creative; I was stimulated and enjoyed social interactions with my staff. The corporate structure however was a bit lacking when it came to nurturing, care and protection.  We often called ourselves a family business;  one might have argued whether it was functional though.. No matter, the pay was good,  I for the longest time believed I had found the perfect job, the one I loved. It wasn’t until one day, a few months after witnessing my boss being delivered the bad news by her lawyers that she was going to jail over an insider trade she had made on the tip from one of her billionaire cronies, which only amounted to the savings she would have incurred if she stopped taking her dogs to the spa for a month, while serving her her egg white omelette for breakfast, that I came face to face with the fact that if my boss went to jail, my job would cease to exist as I knew it. Translation; downsizing. I didn’t know exactly how I would handle it until the day came. I assumed I would be scared and upset. To tell you the truth the day came and I was surprised. I never dwelt on the fact of the inevitability of it; I still loved going to work and working with the people I did. So a few months later when I got a call to report to “the green room” (oddly enough they chose to let people go in the hospitality room of the television studio. Oh, and it was Valentine’s Day-nice touch), I wasn’t heartbroken, because it wasn’t emotional. Sure the job satisfied me and some of my basic needs, but not all, and rationally I knew it was time to move on.  

“Chef,” they said, “we will be cutting back on productions, and as such will no longer be needing your position.”

“OK, “ I said with a little less sadness in my voice than they expected.

“We’re letting you go.” they continued.

“I know”, I might have been smiling at this point. Remember, it was Valentine's Day...no work tomorrow...I could actually sleep in with my wife. I smiled a little more.

“Don’t you understand ? We’re letting you go. TODAY.” They actually seemed a little miffed I wasn’t upset.

“Sure I do. But do you?” I questioned.

“What do you mean?” As if this was the only thing going on this week.

“Well,” I started, “Taping today, tomorrow, the next...guests in house, that sort of stuff...you know...producing a tv show?” We’ll need food for that. Silence.

“OK then!” I popped up from my chair, my hand extended, “it’s been fun, thanks.” greeted by disbelieving limp hands I bade my farewell and left the room. I did actually feel bad, my crew was left holding the bag, a man down as it were. And it was a busy week on top of it all. Don’t worry, they did fine, I had a great crew, that’s why I loved working there. It’s not like I was indispensable.

Ultimately, I left satisfied, knowing that a relationship ended and I knew it was time to go. I loved my job (past tense). Now it was time to court someone else, lucky gal.

Loving one's job is similar to properly loving another person, it requires mutual fulfillment. I can guarantee you a good job worthy of loving is not just about the money. Money quite often is the top reason for accepting a job, but infrequently makes it even into the top 10 when it comes to reasons for leaving, those spots are filled by needs for acceptance, being acknowledged, convivial atmosphere, and sometimes growing apathy. Understanding one's own true need to be nurtured, cared for, protected, stimulated, and engaged socially is a prerequisite to beginning a successful relationship, especially with your job. When those things aren’t there, it is easy to separate yourself and end the relationship, or worse carry on in a dysfunctional way.

As anyone in a successful long term relationship can tell you, you have to work at it. The trouble with emotional-centric love is that confining love  to an emotional state will lead to sorrow; as the nature of emotions is temporal. This in-the-moment thinking leads to a falling away when the initial  blood rush inevitably ebbs away. In order to make love lasting, love needs to be understood fully as a determined action. Love is a willful act, directed proactively towards the relationship and not just passive feelings we feel when acted upon. Understanding love as more than emotion and as a willful drive towards creating within ourselves love, will allow us to  manifest true love’s super-abilities not only in our personal relationships, but further to our work relationship. Which ultimately enables us to truly love our work and create in return the benefits of successful work, providing us with needed fulfillment.. Admittedly, I love my work. I loved all the work I’ve done in all my jobs. But I’m not a masochist; I know when it’s not a reciprocated relationship and when it’s time to move along. So, love what you do; know it intimately, be passionate about it and commit to it. Short of that you may romanticize the relationship, even be infatuated with it, or care for it deeply, but consummate love embodies all three of these attributes and builds well rounded love in your relationships, including your work. Confucius once said, “Choose a job you love and you will never work a day in your life.” I’ll go ahead and take it one step further, Love the job you choose and you will never work a day in your life.