Remember to bend with the wind when things get difficult, otherwise you’ll snap, says John Masterson
I pride myself on being flexible. If arrangements change, I don’t so much as flinch and just switch everything around.
Current affairs television, where I put in a few years in the Today Tonight era, was a good training ground. It was commonplace to go to work expecting to travel to Cork and next thing be on the way to the airport because a bomb had gone off in London. I remember checking in for a flight home at Heathrow to be told the office had just been on and wanted us to go to Rome because the Irish fans couldn’t get tickets for a World Cup match. Off we went. It was commonplace for the important story you had been working on to become irrelevant and be cut in half. Or worse, end up in the bin.
I saw the perfect paperweight recently. It was a piece of granite with “Nothing is set in stone” carved in it. Being flexible, I also expect similar effortless change from those around me, at work and at play. People who don’t cope well with the apple cart being upset regularly will not fare well in any part of the media.
I have said before that when I am a bit stressed, I get short with people. I can usually spot it and control it. It also happens when I am apprehensive — and that is not spotted as easily. Recently, I was in the throes of getting a lot of loose ends tied up before going on a 2,000-mile bike trip when it dawned on me that I must be a bit scared. It wasn’t that I expected to break down or anything, but just that I knew that if I did it would be beside that house where the larger woman traps truck drivers. And I noticed that I wasn’t just being ratty with people. I was also going mad when plans changed. My flexibility was turning to cement.
This came to a head as I waited at the airport to collect my sister and niece. Their early-morning flight had been delayed for two hours. I had a chock-a-block day lined up, and images of being stuck on the M50 had me fuming and pacing up and down like a caged lion wondering how they could have been so stupid as to get that particular flight, etc etc.
I was in a tracksuit and had to get home for a shower before a meeting. Then absolutely had to get to Bray for a gizmo for a bike. And was having a lunch that I was looking forward to. Something had to go.
Then, to make matters worse, the phone rang, and a piece of work I had slotted in for later in the week was needed earlier. I wasn’t even polite. “Why couldn’t they have let me know earlier? Were they completely incompetent?” I might have only thought the second sentence rather than said it out loud.
I got a cup of coffee and sat down fuming. Then it all started to fall into place. To hell with the M50. I could use the port tunnel and give them the car to get home. I could go to a meeting in a tracksuit. No one would bat an eyelid. Then get a taxi home to change and all would be well.
I noticed a woman organising stuff from a big notebook. “Could I have a few pages please? I am stuck here for a while,” She smiled a smile that would warm a room and by the time the plane arrived the back was broken on the rescheduled piece of work.
When the family finally emerged I was in the best of form and all hugs. Mind you, my niece does not think of me as a flexible friend. More like a walking wallet.
John Masterson is a doctor of psychology
First published in September ‘07
I’m flexible without any arm-twisting.
Remember to bend with the wind when things get difficult, otherwise you’ll snap, says John Masterson
I pride myself on being flexible. If arrangements change, I don’t so much as flinch and just switch everything around.
Current affairs television, where I put in a few years in the Today Tonight era, was a good training ground. It was commonplace to go to work expecting to travel to Cork and next thing be on the way to the airport because a bomb had gone off in London. I remember checking in for a flight home at Heathrow to be told the office had just been on and wanted us to go to Rome because the Irish fans couldn’t get tickets for a World Cup match. Off we went. It was commonplace for the important story you had been working on to become irrelevant and be cut in half. Or worse, end up in the bin.
I saw the perfect paperweight recently. It was a piece of granite with “Nothing is set in stone” carved in it. Being flexible, I also expect similar effortless change from those around me, at work and at play. People who don’t cope well with the apple cart being upset regularly will not fare well in any part of the media.
I have said before that when I am a bit stressed, I get short with people. I can usually spot it and control it. It also happens when I am apprehensive — and that is not spotted as easily. Recently, I was in the throes of getting a lot of loose ends tied up before going on a 2,000-mile bike trip when it dawned on me that I must be a bit scared. It wasn’t that I expected to break down or anything, but just that I knew that if I did it would be beside that house where the larger woman traps truck drivers. And I noticed that I wasn’t just being ratty with people. I was also going mad when plans changed. My flexibility was turning to cement.
This came to a head as I waited at the airport to collect my sister and niece. Their early-morning flight had been delayed for two hours. I had a chock-a-block day lined up, and images of being stuck on the M50 had me fuming and pacing up and down like a caged lion wondering how they could have been so stupid as to get that particular flight, etc etc.
I was in a tracksuit and had to get home for a shower before a meeting. Then absolutely had to get to Bray for a gizmo for a bike. And was having a lunch that I was looking forward to. Something had to go.
Then, to make matters worse, the phone rang, and a piece of work I had slotted in for later in the week was needed earlier. I wasn’t even polite. “Why couldn’t they have let me know earlier? Were they completely incompetent?” I might have only thought the second sentence rather than said it out loud.
I got a cup of coffee and sat down fuming. Then it all started to fall into place. To hell with the M50. I could use the port tunnel and give them the car to get home. I could go to a meeting in a tracksuit. No one would bat an eyelid. Then get a taxi home to change and all would be well.
I noticed a woman organising stuff from a big notebook. “Could I have a few pages please? I am stuck here for a while,” She smiled a smile that would warm a room and by the time the plane arrived the back was broken on the rescheduled piece of work.
When the family finally emerged I was in the best of form and all hugs. Mind you, my niece does not think of me as a flexible friend. More like a walking wallet.
John Masterson is a doctor of psychology
First published in September ‘07