Making the bell toll for us while we still can

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio version of this blog story click here.]

'You can't unring a bell.'

Of the many quips former Ireland men's rugby coach, Eddie O'Sullivan, has uttered, that one regularly reverberates in my mind.

What's rung is rung!

A different ball game

In more common parlance it's expressed as, 'What's done, is done'. It can't be undone. If it's something that needs fixing, requires a remedy, this may be possible afterwards but we can't go back in time and re-do the original action. The best we can do is try to learn from it and not make the same mistakes again.

Certain events, however, allow one shot only. Yes, similar situations may arise in the future where we can adopt a wiser approach based on experience but no two scenarios play out exactly the same.

Returning briefly to O'Sullivan and the Irish rugby team that he once coached, followers of the game are well aware of Ireland's failure to make it to a World Cup semi-final after nine attempts.

In rugby's professional era, from 1995 onwards, Team Ireland has by now pretty much achieved everything that can be achieved in the sport, except those significant shortcomings at World Cups. 2023 presents another opportunity to address this.

Of course, the personnel involved in each World Cup selection changes, as does the location and the makeup of the other competitors. A new bell is being rung each time, so to put it.

And so it is with every new challenge. None is exactly like another because there are so many variables at play.

'That I have these uncomfortable dreams could be due to my largely stress-free, relaxed-paced life on Bogotá's Mediocre Lane.'

Over the last four years, I've had, if I recall correctly, eight online job interviews. Three of those were for positions that I'm fairly certain I would have said yes to had I been the preferred candidate. Obviously enough, I wasn't.

Naturally, I've done mental post-mortems on each of them. One usually has a sense of where it goes wrong in such things, so this gets played over and over in the mind ahead of the next interview.

As somebody who prefers in-person meetings over online ones, being forced into the latter is a negative before a virtual ball is kicked. My job interview record suggests I have to be seen to be truly believed — or hired, at least!

'It's not us, it's you'

My most recent interview gives a nice illustration of this. I had a technical problem that simply couldn't happen in person: my laptop's camera wouldn't work when it had worked fine just moments before I connected to the "video" call.

As it transpired, I have it on good authority that this glitch had no bearing on the outcome. After all, the interview was for a job where it was much more about my voice, my current affairs/news sense and my ability to write news bulletins. How I looked was not of major importance.

That aside, I did have to write up and record a news bulletin against the clock. When my low-spec laptop has to multitask online, it often throws a tantrum. Its temperament on this occasion made an already stressful task somewhat more taxing than it needed to be.

This might sound like a not-very-skilled workman pointing his finger at the tools at his disposal, but it's not. I'm just stating the facts, these aren't excuses.

In any case, that I wasn't offered the job may have as much to do with my distance from where the gig is based than my interview performance. I say this because I was told that if I happen to be in the city where the work is in the coming months, I should contact the interviewer for potential freelance opportunities.

As rejections go, this was one of the gentler ones I've received. Or could it be that the company in question is just being overly and unnecessarily nice?

Don't dream it's over

Whatever the real reasons are, I am left with the feeling that I didn't give the best account of myself on the day. My performance could have been a few percentage points higher. The bell that I rang on this occasion just didn't sound quite right for its target.

More specifically, the news task did remind me why I prefer interviewing and presenting programmes, i.e. a format that allows for some unscripted dissection of current affairs, to composing bulletins. Alas, such paid gigs are thin on the ground.

I still have the occasional nightmare of rushing from a radio newsroom to the studio for a live bulletin with just seconds remaining to broadcast time. Or, worse again, actually being in the studio with no news to read at all.

I'm fairly sure that second scenario never happened in reality. Well, not to the extent visualised in my nightmares. I did, though, have to make up the weather forecast once or twice. In Ireland, one is rarely wrong in prognosticating wind and rain.

That I have these uncomfortable dreams could be due to my largely stress-free, relaxed-paced life on Bogotá's Mediocre Lane.

Time, perhaps, for some more daring bell ringing while I'm still in a position to do so. Better to have rung and lost than never have rung at all, right? And there's no avoiding the eternal empty silence that awaits us all.
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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

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Not so gaga for physical footy

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio version of this blog story click here.]

If somebody had told me in November 2008, just before I embarked on my first solo bout of world travelling, that I'd become indifferent to being involved in Gaelic football, I would have suggested they see a psychiatrist.

It's been nice to play some "footy". The injuries have been less fun.

At that time, in addition to playing, I'd started training my club's under-21s and I'd served as public relations officer. To say I was gaga about Gaelic football is pretty much, um, on point.

Nipped in the rib

Of the myriad concerns I had about leaving home for a protracted period, abandoning Irish football was chief amongst them.

My absence from the game could hardly grow my fondness for it — my heart was pumped full of it. Thus, it was probably only natural that travelling would begin to weaken the bond, even though I didn't think it at the time.

The love was reignited on my return to Ireland in late 2009, but it was of a different beat. Work took me to Belfast and with it a change in club. While I enjoyed playing for Naomh Bríd, my outlook had changed. Gaelic football was now a pastime, not a vocation.

Leaving Belfast in mid-2011 to base myself, eventually, in Gaelic football-free Bogotá ensured my playing days ended.

The odd game of fútbol (soccer) filled any ball-shaped void but it was with surprising speed that I kicked to touch the "need" to play such sports regularly or join a club.

Merely making ends meet became my Bogotá sport; that and travelling around Colombia when I could. Thus it has largely remained.

Yet, while Gaelic football may have been out of sight in a real-life sense, it has never been out of my mind.

'With no health insurance, I would have to be close to death to see a doctor right now. Anyway, I had a fair idea that the best treatment is ice, rest and time.'

Even so, when the game made a brief appearance in Bogotá recently thanks to the guys at Go Gaelic, I was somewhat surprised at my excitement to be reunited with an O'Neills size five — the ball used in the men's game, that is.

More surprising, if I do say so myself, was that my touch was fairly sharp, all things considered.

Glory days with Belfast's Naomh Bríd in 2010! A slightly bulkier Wrong Way is wearing No. 5.

Playing a compromise rules exhibition game with the well-established Australian (Aussie) Rules football club, Bogotá Bulldogs, my enthusiasm to play some "footy", as our antipodean acquaintances affectionately and boisterously call their game, was reignited. (Aussie Rules and Gaelic football are seen as close cousins.)

This enthusiasm was dampened when, adrenaline abated, I noticed I'd picked up a bruised rib or two. It's really only when you suffer such an injury that you realise how intrinsically involved your rib cage is in every movement of your body.

Nonetheless, invited to train weekly with the footy folk with an eye on playing in an upcoming Colombians versus The Rest internal club game, I was determined to show commitment to my new cause.

Solo fun

While the bruised ribs were still bothering me, I managed to take in a few training sessions before the big game.

Indeed, it took all four weeks between the compromise exhibition match and this internal game for the injury to heal; and not even fully at that.

One heavy, late hit later — if it was rugby, I'm sure the tackler would have been sent off — and it seemed as if my whole rib cage had been shattered.

To give an idea of my suffering in the days that followed, I was compelled to take painkillers. This is something I rarely do. I hadn't taken any for the previous rib injury. I usually take a grin-and-bear-it approach to pain.

Some barrio friends, seeing me in such a state, suggested I seek medical help. With no health insurance, I would have to be close to death to see a doctor right now. What's more, I had a fair idea that the best treatment was (still is!) ice, rest and time.

Health insurance or not, getting these rib injuries within a month of each other has certainly made me less eager to play such a high-contact sport. (Gaelic football is a little less physical.)

I'm not as bulky as I was in my early 20s and I am, naturally enough, a little slower, so both factors make me more vulnerable to getting smashed up.

OK, I did enjoy being back in the heat of battle but I haven't enjoyed the aftermath, injured to the point where I've struggled to do low-intensity activities, meaning I've been less active overall. And I'm not the most patient patient, particularly when my everyday movements are curtailed.

Thus, I won't lament a return to being indifferent to such team sports. I had been more than happy engaging in my own physical fun this past decade.
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The panadería's pudgy pauper

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio version of this blog story click here.]

A boy, about 12 years old, regularly comes into one of my panadería offices asking for food.

Unfortunately, such a scene is not unusual in these parts.

Rather than helping the bread-begging boy, are we killing him softly?

Pan out

However, what makes this particular pauper stand out from the stream of other mendicants is that he seems well, nay overly, fed and is rather neat in appearance. Also, he doesn't appear — thankfully enough, especially considering his youth — to have a drug problem.

He might, though, have a sweet-bread addiction. This would help to explain both his pudginess and penchant for the panadería.

Now, before I am accused of being both cruel and a hypocrite — I've previously documented my predilection for certain panadería delights — I'm not completely begrudging the boy of this farinaceous favour.

An occasional — occasional that is — bit of bread isn't the worst thing he could consume. And because he's plump doesn't mean he's sufficiently satiated.

One concern, however, is that if his diet consists chiefly of highly processed bread, then he's most likely facing into an adulthood of health problems.

Were I to offer him a serving of one of my vegetable stew specials, I wager he'd turn it down. (He never actually approaches me, though. I must have a mean look to me.)

So, there's a chance that he's a foti — fat on the outside, thin on the inside — but in a negative way (the standard view is that a foti is healthier than a tofi, thin on the outside, fat on the inside). This is to say, he's not getting the right nutrition. He's got plenty of company on that front.

'It's a sign that I've been in Colombia too long that I have doubts about the bona fides of the boy's begging.'

Indeed, most of the fare on offer in Colombia's ten-a-peso panaderías should come with a health warning. In addition to high quantities of salt and/or sugar glued together with poor-quality flour, the majority of bakeries use what are in essence poisonous margarines and preservatives.

The giveaway is in the shelf-life. I don't think I've ever seen panadería products go mouldy. One can only wonder what these powerful preservatives do to one's microbiome.

Beg to differ

As for eating wholesomely, some argue that pursuing a healthy diet is far more difficult for society's less well-off. Unhealthier foods are cheaper and more convenient.

That doesn't fully hold true in Colombia. Here, when it comes to diet, it's not always money that does the talking. Convenience often does the "conversing", coupled with, I guess, cravings.

This is because one can buy fresh fruit and vegetables at competitive prices all year round.

Colombia's fruit & veg: Cheap-ish and cheerful (if they're not overly laden with chemicals).

In my part of Bogotá, it's common to see a range of such foodstuffs retailing at around 1,000 pesos per pound — bananas, butternut squash, carrots, green beans, papaya, peppers, potatoes, pumpkin, tomatoes and much more besides.

Throw in the amazing avocado, regularly on offer for five for 2,000 pesos, and we've got the makings of a fairly cheap salubrious snack. (One only hopes, naively perhaps, that these natural goodies aren't laden with harmful pesticides.)

OK, fish, meat and poultry aren't quite as economical but they're not off the charts either, not when compared to what one might fork out for a nutritionally poor panadería treat.

This is why I say convenience and cravings do the conversing, not monetary concerns.

Fair enough, not everyone has access to kitchen facilities to cook food from scratch. And Colombia's worst-paid urban workers often have little free time on a typical day. Between the commute and work itself, 14-hour shifts are common.

As for my panadería's pudgy pauper, I'd have to engage in some espionage to find out his exact circumstances.

A sign, perhaps, that I've been in Colombia for too long that I have doubts, owing to his overall demeanour, about the bona fides of his begging.

Would he take a banana as readily as he takes a bit of bread? Maybe if it was deep-fried he would.
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Little thirst to teach English in these thinking times

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio version of this blog story click here.]

Earn per hour what many Colombians would be doing well to make in a day. Largely be your own boss, decide how often you want to work and, for the most part, dictate the course of affairs.

Teaching English: It's not all bad, particularly with high-level learners. 

Outside of some sinecure or getting money for nothing, that job description sounds as cosy as the best of them, doesn't it?

Didactic doubts

Yet, I have little interest in pursuing it. For some reason, when I get asked if I teach English, I shudder at the prospect.

Even in these financially lean times — in fairness, I haven't really known any other — when, in theory at least, teaching English can provide a bit of a cash cushion, I tend to shy away from it.

I should be honoured and humbled that people ask me to give classes. And no, it's not that they're so utterly desperate that they seek me out. Honestly, it's not. Well, maybe in the odd instance that's the case but it's not the norm.

Of those who've used my didactic services, most seem to be satisfied with my method. Just don't ask me exactly what that method is. It's case-dependent. Bespoke English classes in a sense. What works for Camila may not work for Camilo, so to put it. One size does not fit all.

Also, the idea that any native English speaker can be a teacher of the language isn't exactly correct. As I explained before, some qualified teachers in whatever subject area lack the ability to impart knowledge. What's more, some tutors work well with certain students and not with others.

Most importantly, the person taking lessons has to be prepared to do some grafting. As it is for honing any skill, becoming competent in another language requires dedication. If this is lacking, the task becomes next to impossible.

'Maintaining a rather minimalist lifestyle — would I have it any other way? — and being able to charge a decent hourly rate in a Colombian peso context for various jobs means I can have more "me time" than the average worker.'

While this mild defence of my didacticity may appear to be at odds with my overall disinterest in teaching English regularly — for I still do it occasionally — there are certain types of "clients" and situations that I don't mind as much as others.

The ideal scenario is a face-to-face class within a 30-minute walk from my base, with a student who contacted me for my services — I don't feel comfortable advertising as a teacher, per se — and one who already has a fairly decent level i.e. can hold a conversation, read newspaper articles and suchlike without too much difficulty. I generally dislike the idea of online classes but I can do them at a push.

With a high(ish)-level speaker, classes are often more like a chat or a podcast interview — the odd correction excepted. In fact, I often think such types don't really need classes, but hey, if they want to pay me for them, fine.

A few pesos for my thoughts?

Having said that, if I never gave an English class again in my life, I wouldn't lament the loss.

I would, though, be somewhat saddened if I were to be denied access to publish my musings. Monetarily speaking, this makes little-to-no sense. My blogging is a gratuitous gig with a minuscule reach. (Although, if this reach were to expand exponentially, Google AdSense might actually start to pay dividends. It's the hope that kills ya!)

Yet, we don't really get to choose what ignites our passions and more often than not pursuits that we enjoy aren't financially rewarding.

So that I have to occasionally do certain tasks that I find tedious to keep in the black is far from revelatory (even the "super extra" roles are now often more in this tedious bracket than stimulating, for various reasons).

And occasionally is key here. Maintaining a rather minimalist lifestyle — would I have it any other way? — and being able to charge a decent hourly rate in a Colombian peso context for various jobs means I am able to have more "me time" than the average worker.

That, however, might be a problem in itself: too much time to ponder on life, on what's happening and, more pertinently, what isn't happening. The busier one is, the less time there is to ruminate.

If only during these frequent downtimes I got a peso, or better yet a penny, for each of my thoughts. Rather than being dead, philosophy may be about to have a golden age. I'm positioning myself accordingly, just in case.
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A Boyacá fruit route: Tierra Negra-Nuevo Colón-Turmequé

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio version of this blog story click here.]

One criticism often levelled at Colombia's tourism industry is that compared to other countries in the region such as Argentina, Chile and Peru, it's quite underdeveloped.

Now also known as 'The Wrong Way Corrigan Way'!

While this can be seen as a bit unfair considering the myriad problems the country has had to deal with, it's not like the rest of Latin America has been a bastion of bliss and stability during global tourism's golden age, one that is surely ending.

Terra firma

Nonetheless, Colombia's internal conflict and notorious drug cartels gave it an especially sanguinary international reputation, keeping mass tourism in check.

It's really only in the last decade or so that it has become something of a must-visit destination. The firm-hand tactics of President Álvaro Uribe (2002-2010) played their part in this. State security forces, by fair means or foul, took control of greater parts of the national territory from insurgents. With that, locals and outsiders alike truly began to discover the country's many natural wonders.

In this light, Colombia is playing catch-up with more established tourism destinations in South America. For sure, some of its cities and regions are now relatively well-equipped in this regard. Many others, however, be it through indifference, ignorance or inadequate investment — or a mixture of all three — are not quite tourist-ready.

For me, this is often a bonus. I tend not to be a big fan of locations that are holiday hotspots. I largely subscribe to the idea, mentioned in a previous post, that 'tourism's greatest cancer is tourism'.

Thankfully, owing to its size and numerous beauty spots, Colombia has plenty of places to visit that aren't on the main tourist drag yet are worth visiting.

Indeed, never mind the country at large, one could spend years just travelling around the Boyacá and Cundinamarca departments and rarely be disappointed with what's on offer ("seasickness", by which I mean a longing for the sea, might be an issue for some).

'Unashamedly, I showed Eve-like traits in resisting temptation. We are talking about sinless pears here, not sinful apples.'

Over the last few years, I've done just that, visiting various Boyacá and Cundinamarca towns. And as long as north Bogotá remains my base and my budget remains tight — the former is most likely to change before the latter — I'll continue with such travels.

Top of the apples and pears

For my latest escapade, Boyacá's Nuevo Colón was the initial focus. A misunderstanding meant that I'd arrived at Bogotá's northern bus terminal over two hours early for the next direct service to the town.

Rather than wait, and with approval for such a move from the ticket-counter guy, I opted to take a then-departing bus to Tierra Negra. A quick check on Google Maps told me it was only 10 km from Nuevo Colón, so I figured I could walk it if needs be. And that's what I ended up doing, even though buses do run between the towns.

The fact that it's mostly a gentle downhill route in a fresh enough region climate-wise — made fresher the day I got there by overcast conditions; I was effectively walking through clouds for the first few kilometres — meant it was quite a pleasant wander.

Spontaneous as it was, the 70-minute brisk walk on a traffic-light country lane turned out to be a nice counterbalance to the two-hour bus spin to Tierra Negra. While I do like to wander around regardless, actually having a necessary destination to reach makes it more purposeful.

From a tourist perspective, Nuevo Colón's main attraction is El Ojo de Agua, a nature reserve that ranges from 2,500 to 2,780 metres above sea level with a 2.8 km walkway to trek. From its chief lookout spot, there's a nice view of both Nuevo Colón and nearby Turmequé — more on that town shortly.

That bit of tourism infrastructure aside, the main industry around Nuevo Colón is fruit. A welcome-to sign runs with the tagline 'Colombia's fruit city', while in the main square another sign labels it 'the apple village'.

Alongside apples, pears, peaches and plums are the chief fruits grown here.

On the trek up to the entrance to El Ojo de Agua, orchards are omnipresent and, as luck would have it, my visit coincided with pear-picking season. Unashamedly, I showed Eve-like traits in resisting temptation. We are talking about sinless pears here, not sinful apples.

Tejo light

Orchards also line large sections of the back-road route to Nuevo Colón's southern neighbour, Turmequé.

Turmequé: Tejo town, so they say! 

While both towns lie at similar altitudes — around 2,500 metres — and it's a mere six-kilometre walk compared to the 10 kilometres between Tierra Negra and Nuevo Colón, the trek is more taxing.

Turmequé is known as the 'world capital of tejo', (tejo being Colombia's national sport, a game where you throw metal weights at a clay-filled, metre-squared board, in which are gunpowder-filled paper pouches.

Thus, I was expecting every second establishment in the town to have tejo courts. However, to my somewhat pleasant surprise, this wasn't the case at all. I say pleasant surprise because I have to be in the mood for tejo; I'm usually not. It takes a bit of effort to play, even if it is virtually obligatory to drink beer whilst participating in it.

I had thought, as the "gringo" — I'm not a gringo! — about town, I'd be pestered to play. But no. There wasn't a word of it.

Country roads: Wandering the hills around Turmequé.

So, reputed world capital of tejo Turmequé may be, it strangely doesn't appear to be that popular in the town. Perhaps I happened to visit during tejo off-season. Those gunpowder-filled paper pouches aren't like pears you know, they don't grow on trees. (I must say, I was loath to enquire for fear of being, um, thrown into a game.)

Tejo travails or lack thereof aside, the town itself is par for the course, in a good sense that is. While it doesn't have an advertised attraction in the way that Nuevo Colón has El Ojo de Agua, there are still plenty of quiet country lanes to wander about.

The dirt-track road to the town of Úmbita winds up a few hundred metres to give rewarding views of the surrounding countryside.

The Turmequé townsfolk, as is the case for most Boyacá towns, are friendly but not overbearingly so. What's more, a few establishments actually know how to make decent, unsweetened coffee. Ditto for Nuevo Colón. The standard of a town's coffee can make or break it as a go-to destination!

While this part of Boyacá may not prioritise tourism, by happenstance I wandered across a readymade three-town tourist trek: Tierra Negra-Nuevo Colón-Turmequé. A Boyacá fruit route.

Henceforth it shall be called 'The Wrong Way Corrigan Way'!

*As for accommodation, at 50,000 COP per night, the only hotel in Nuevo Colón is on the pricier side of things for such a small town. However, rooms at 30,000 COP per night, with decent WiFi, are available above the veterinary shop on the main square. Ask for Nancy, the live-in administrator.

In Turmequé, the colonial Hotel Casa Grande — with courtyard, of course — next to the church on the main square caters for all budgets, from what amounts to a honeymoon suite at 120,000 COP per night to a far more affordable standard room at 30,000 COP. With the mild-mannered and somewhat odd 'Sí señor', 'Tranquilo' Alfonso as caretaker and its old-world style, there's something quite beguiling about Hotel Casa Grande!
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The quiet man conquereth

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio version of this blog story click here.]

'Beware the quiet ones.'

Considering this saying has achieved adage status, there must be at least some modicum of truth to it.

Keeping oneself to oneself is often the best strategy for resolving disputes.

'You say it best when you say nothing at all'

Of course, not all quiet types need to be treated with caution. From boisterous barroom banter — or in a standard Colombian setting, trashy tienda talk — to a monotonous management meeting and much else besides, there are those who simply don't want to engage in whatever conversation is taking place.

This doesn't mean that they're planning treachery or suchlike. Most likely, they just want to keep themselves to themselves and wish everyone else would do the same. Or, if it's a scenario where they are expected to engage, they may simply be a little clueless about the matter at hand or feel that no more needs to be said.

As somebody who frequently likes to use the aforementioned tiendas and my beloved panaderías — Bogotá's ubiquitous bakeries/cafés — to both unwind and ponder about life, at times I am one of the 'quiet ones'. But far from the menacing kind.

On such occasions, the only way I might become a threat is if somebody disturbs me. Keep your distance and all shall be fine.

'If it is terminal, then so be it. I'd prefer to be rid of such "friends" than keep up any pretence to the contrary.'

I do believe, though, some people get a kick out of interfering where they're clearly not wanted. An excuse can be made when alcohol is involved but when it's done in sobriety one is less understanding.

Martha the Jehovah's Witness who frequents my "office" panadería is a prime example. And it's not like I haven't been clear with her as to my thoughts about her particular faith.

Thus, rather than being wary of those who say little, I tend to have an amount of respect for them. It's like we have a mutual understanding when in each others' company. One innately knows when talk is permitted, for there is a time and a place for it. The blabberers, by nature, don't get this.

As for the "wary" side to this, giving a so-called friend who has angered or wronged you the silent treatment could lead to better outcomes than regular shouting matches.

It is said that women can be particularly adept at this tactic (although, they tend not to be bad at shouting, either). However, for most issues — especially so in romance — talking through a problem is better than ignoring it or being short with the injurious party in the hope that s/he will suddenly change.

Nonetheless, if the injured party constantly verbally attacks the perceived wrongdoer, an impasse can ensue.

Golden silence

Often, a more effective approach is to clearly explain the source of your ire, lay out how it can be assuaged, then leave it for a time whilst employing the quiet-man strategy, with the odd subtle reminder when needs be.

It's a move that is, for the most part, better suited to friendship problems rather than genuine romantic relationships. This is because, by its nature, it might sever the bond indefinitely. But if it is terminal, then so be it. I'd prefer to be rid of such "friends" than keep up any pretence to the contrary.

In fact, this largely irreversible result is the second of two main advantages of the silent treatment.

Preceding it is the opportunity it gives to de-stress somewhat. Regularly engaging in heated words, getting the blood up, takes its toll. OK, venting can be beneficial, too. But not when it's constant.

So playing the quiet man once you've explained the wrongs to the wrongdoer allows for a cooling-off period, so to put it. It's up to the "sinner" to make the next move.

Should none be forthcoming, this tells its own story; the relationship is on rocky terrain. You end it and either move on as completely as possible or pursue other methods to right wrongs.

Now, I am referring to situations where it's fairly obvious to all who is in the wrong. For example, lending money to somebody who fails to pay back within the agreed-upon timeframe. Yes, alas, I have experienced this.

It's not always so clear-cut, though, as to who's at fault; three sides to every story and all that.

Nevertheless, the quiet man, or at least the one who shouts least, is often the one who achieves more, gets more done.

So while it's not always necessary to beware the quiet ones, it is usually the case that those who make the most noise are but empty vessels.
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Find a way or fade away

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio version of this blog story click here.]

'Why try to be somebody you're not?'

That epigraph has been brought to you by the soft drink, Sprite. OK, the brand wasn't the first to use it, but I do recall its TV advert — commercial if you prefer — from the early noughties where it was the central theme (watch it at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JjEHEKhwnEo). And by attributing it to Sprite here maybe they'll reward me for the mention (financially that is — I'm not a fan of such saccharine soft drinks).

The way may not be clear and appear long but it does end for us all, one way or the other.

'Who am I?'

Marketing matters aside, it's sound advice. Trying to be somebody you're not, not being true to yourself, is unlikely to lead to any lasting, meaningful contentment or fulfilment.

The key lies in finding out who you are meant to be. Or at least in finding a version of yourself that accentuates as many of your positive attributes as possible. Like most things, this is easier pointed out than carried out.

Some of us may have more of an idea of who we're not, nay what we don't want in life, more so than what we want or who we ought to be.

What's more, in an imperfect, ever-changing world, we have to be willing to mould ourselves to suit. This isn't to say we should abandon our values or stop defending what we believe to be true, it's just we may need to adopt a different approach to our modus operandi to achieve desired outcomes.

However, this has to be done, to come back to the motif here, in congruence with ourselves.

From a job perspective, I've expressed before how I'm not the best at working for people. I prefer to work with people, i.e. having the same level of input as possible and practical in whatever we're undertaking. Partners, basically.

It's why I found the marketing agency model particularly toxic — doing somebody else's tedious dirty work, often having to be economical with the truth in the process and getting very little credit for it.

Work's out?

Indeed, on the whole, the wage-slave system is anathema to me. There are, though, some gigs, at least on paper, for which I'd give up the relative independence that I currently enjoy. (Ireland's national broadcaster, RTÉ, is showing fierce pigheadedness in not approaching me about that vacant The Late Late Show host position.)

My many concerns about today's Digital Revolution notwithstanding, one hope is that it will provide more opportunities for people to throw off the wage-slave shackles, addressing a societal ill that became particularly acute in the Industrial Revolution.

A world freed from "wage slavery" was one aspiration expressed by the 2006 Nobel Peace Prize winner, Muhammad Yunus, at a forum in Bogotá in November 2022.

'It could be that your true calling, the skill that you do better than most, simply isn't deemed worthy enough of recompense.'

While I haven't had the opportunity to read Yunus' book, A World of Three Zeros: The New Economics of Zero Poverty, Zero Unemployment, and Zero Net Carbon Emissions, going by his Bogotá talk, one element to zero unemployment is creating the conditions for self-employment. It certainly sounds appealing; making it an effective reality is another matter.

One passage from Yunus' tome, which I found in an online review, only serves to highlight, so I believe, the difficulties of ditching the current system:

'When you become an adult, you offer yourself to the scrutiny of the job market. A job is your destiny. If you miss it, you show up in the bread line. Nobody tells young people that they are nature-built to become entrepreneurs rather than waiting in line to get hired.'

Any chance of a grant, Muhammad?

The way I see it, nature tells us we must always have subordinates, in one form or another. 

However, unlike an ant colony or a beehive, humanity can aspire to allow such types to advance, should they want to. Serve your time, learn and move on. Some will say this is already the case. I say it's mostly so in theory rather than in practice.

Now, if you do escape from or manage to shun altogether the wage-slave system, there's the difficulty of getting adequately remunerated for whatever your contribution to society happens to be. (If only IQuiz and my musings published here actually paid me well, eh?! As the days pass, a subsistence existence at one with nature gets more appealing!)

It could be that your true calling, the skill that you do better than most, simply isn't deemed worthy enough of recompense. Or you might have a decent idea, it's just the wrong time. Thus, to survive economically, alternatives are required.

You may actually have to try to be somebody you're really not. (I am, of course, referring to those of us who haven't a wealthy family to fall back on and/or haven't been the recipients of a generous inheritance.)

'Many of us may simply become surplus to requirements from an employment perspective.'

The retort from those of a certain vintage would most likely be along the lines of, 'Well, welcome to the real world, kiddo!' Or, 'Shock! Horror! Man dislikes his job.' Indeed.

I think it's safe to assume that most people earn a living from work that isn't quite their preference, spending a large proportion of their time doing it, to boot.

There is also the thinking that we shouldn't define ourselves by our work, by our careers. I understand that perspective. Nonetheless, we are judged by others in terms of our words, our actions and how we contribute — or not — to society. In a capitalist world, our work plays a large part in that. 'What do you do?' is, after all, one of the most common ice-breaker questions.

Be that as it may, no one can say with any certainty what the state of humanity will be in a generation or so. The Digital Revolution and artificial intelligence certainly look set to bring about significant changes in how — and how often — we work.

Many of us may simply become surplus to requirements from an employment perspective. It could be a case of being paid to exist (whilst trying to be a net positive for society and the planet in the process): a universal basic income.

Should, though, the more damaging predictions of the effects of climate change come to pass — perhaps coupled with some other major disasters — then many may be forced into that subsistence existence at one with nature I mentioned above. It just most likely won't be as idyllic as it might sound.

In such a scenario, worrying about "being somebody you're not" becomes largely irrelevant.

When our survival instincts kick in, we either find a way or fade away forever.
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