It’s friday. Day 15 of my new career. And I sold something. Something with enough margin in it to pay my wages for about 2 weeks.
Perhaps I could make a go of this after all. The client seems happy that I am on the ball and respond to his requests in a timely fashion, so perhaps that is all I need. And time, so that I can learn my way around the medical profession, the equipment, and the connections I have to use to make a go of this.
I think I need to buy a suit 😉
After a very late night last night, I found a personal letter in the mailbox this morning. This is exciting in and of itself – personal mail sticks out like a sore thumb in our rusted letterbox. Usually it’s just bills, the Coles meat catalogue, and medical journals for the retired chap next door. And the occasional offer of an amex card for someone who moved out more than four years ago.
In this envelope was a photocopy of an article from Good Living Magazine (the foody section of the Sydney Morning Herald for those of you not in Sydney), with a post it note on the front that read “Let’s go here!”.
This is the article in question, and I am seriously excited about making a pilgrimage. Mahjong, excellent chinese vegetarian food, and beer, all in one outing. If only it also had a mirror ball and a yarn shop next door, I would never leave.
When you believe in something passionately, it’s easy to get caught up in the principle of the thing, and forget the big picture. Conversely, it’s also easy to focus on the result and forget about the principles that get trampled in getting to the end.
Sometimes, the end justifies the means, and sometimes the means is the end. When you are arguing a position of principle in politics, the waters get even muddier.
Say I believe that global warming could be stopped in its tracks if we all wore pink underwear on thursdays. Say I also believe that wearing underwear with tassels helps me reduce my own “personal” greenhouse emissions.
What if the boss of underpants says, “I can help you with the pink underwear, but the tassels have got to go.”? In the big picture, the tassels aren’t important in the slightest, but if I cave on the tassels, then I place myself on the big slippery slope of being vulnerable to the boss of underpants forevermore. I open myself up to scrutiny that I am willing to do a deal with the boss, and I compromise my principles about tassels.
What I want, is pink underpants with tassels. What I can get without help, is khaki coloured y-fronts (which really don’t do anyone any favours). With help, I can get 90% of what I want, and I end up feeling like Lady Macbeth.
Disco Knitter 