Jocks

My least favourite kind of jock...

   I encountered jocks for the first time back in high school. I'm guessing that this is where most of us begin our relationships with jocks. Actually, before I continue, I should clarify that when I say "jock" I am not referring to the article of athletic apparel but more directly to the athlete himself. I have never had a problem with the jock you wear, in fact it is one of my favourite pieces of athletic clothing. Unfortunately, it was a different story with the human variety.

My favourite kind of jock...

   Generally, you run into your first jocks in gym class. They're the kids who, although only in Grade 9, already seem to have known the phys ed teacher their whole lives. They joke with him, talk sports with him and are physically able to do almost whatever he asks them to do.
   That was never me. In the first place, I've pretty well always been more comfortable around women and, secondly, for a variety of reasons there were many aspects of phys ed I either didn't get or simply couldn't perform. For the life of me. Rope climbing was one, but that's probably a blog unto itself.
   I began to inhabit that middle ground between the land of the jocks and the land of the nerds. With my friends in the neighbourhood, I was always playing one sport or another and was actually quite adept. This never translated too well in school, however. The little bit of athletic ability I did have managed to elevate me a touch above nerdism but never even came close to making me a jock. Which was fine. I flirted enough around the edges of jockism to find myself on the junior football team, the senior basketball team and the senior volleyball team at Oakridge. These associations had me rubbing shoulders with jocks on a regular basis (what was I thinking?) and they and I very quickly realized just how out-of-place I actually was. More than anything, I guess, I got in their way. They'd go in for a lay-up and, when they came down, I, for some reason, would be right underneath them. This apparently made made me a dip-stick once when it happened to the star of the team, right from the star's mouth. It was hard to run plays in practice because I, knowing where the ball was going, always got in the way of it. This did not elicit a positive response from a couple of the jocks on the team. They'd pass around orange slices at half time of a football game and give me a hard time if I took one because I hadn't played much, if at all.

   I actually got cut from both the football team and the basketball team but ended back on both of them, for different reasons and miraculously. Apparently I didn't get the hint. For whatever reason, this enabled me to continue my square-peg-in-a-round-hole experience with high school sports and the world of jocks.
   Fortunately, this experience never actually included any form of physical confrontation with any of the jocks I ran across, I always tried pretty hard to stay under the radar. At the same time, they had other ways of making my life miserable.
   Round about Grade 10, I fell in love with a cheerleader. I didn't fall in love with her because she was a cheerleader, I just fell in love with her. She, however, was relegated to the category of all-time-stereotypical-jock-gets-what-he-doesn't-deserve-just-like-in-a-teen-movie as she, of course, was the girlfriend of the captain of the senior football team. So, due to this jock I didn't even know, my life was ruined, at least for a month or so.

   About the same time I was in love with the cheerleader, I was also in love with my Spanish teacher (yes, I really had enough love to spread around back in those days) and I truly felt there was something special between us. I felt this way right up to the Xmas break. Upon returning from the break, we were all informed that she had, in the meantime, gotten married. Not only had she been stolen from me, she had been stolen from me by.....my gym teacher! This made a low moment even that much lower.
   Eventually, I continued to fall in love with a different girl every couple of months or so and the pain of these two losses slowly diminished. In Grades 12 and 13, I ended up on the volleyball team. The Oakridge volleyball team is much storied and has a history of being one of the top volleyball powers in the province. And all this started just after I played for them. In my day with the team, we were pretty well a bunch of nerds dressed up as athletes. We did not win a game in the year previous to my starting to play and we did not win a game in the two years I was on the team. There was absolutely no jockism on the team, we stole no one's girlfriend, we intimidated no one and I'm pretty sure no one looked up to us. We did have some fun and actually came close to winning once or twice in my final year. I spent my last year on the team as captain and MVP and at the year-end awards banquet found myself up there with all the other jocks, accepting my award. The irony was not lost on me!

     
  
  
  

I Am Invisible

There I am....

   Yes, I surely am. Invisible, that is. I am that person whose name you can't remember five minutes after you meet me. I am "the old guy" on the team. I am the guy you spent five hours with at the same table at last year's Xmas party that you don't remember this year. I am the person you don't say goodbye to when you say goodbye to the only other person in the room you're leaving. I am the person who didn't get invited to any of the New Year's Eve parties, not because I wasn't popular but because no-one remembered about me. I am also the person who occasionally doesn't get invited on the family vacation.
   My car has been hit from behind three times in a row, while it was stopped, simply because I am apparently invisible.
   I don't stand out in a crowd, my personality is so low-key that I can't initiate conversations and I never have enough self-confidence to simply introduce myself to strangers and then carry on talking with them. If something truly remarkable happens right in front of us then sometimes I will have something to say. If I am in a meeting I will let everyone voice an opinion and will only venture mine if it doesn't get voiced by someone else first.
   I don't scream and yell (even when I likely should sometimes) and I don't take charge unless there is some dire emergency. I have a sense of humour but I certainly don't tell jokes. I will never ever be the life of the party.

Perhaps I just need to do THIS...

   Just today I was in a staff meeting and the person sitting beside me started talking about me like I wasn't even there and then realized I was sitting right there beside her, being invisible, I guess.
   I will never be bombastic enough that I become instantly engraved on anyone's memory and, really, that's fine with me. For the most part, I don't have a problem wearing my cloak of invisibility. My anonymity is almost like a shield and it is sometimes preferable to not have a bright light shining in my direction.
   So be careful wherever you are, you may think you are alone but there's every possibility that I am only five feet away, quietly passing through your space. If you notice your coffee somewhere different then where you left it a couple of minutes ago, that might have been me.
  

Perceptions

   Quite a few years ago, I received a very excellent lesson in perception. At the time, I was working in a supervisory capacity with the agency which currently employs me. I was sharing an office with another person who held essentially the same position as myself.
   One afternoon, one of the employees appeared at our door with a concern which he stated to both of us. We gave him as much feedback as we could at the time. After he left, we compared notes and realized that we had diametrically opposed views on what had, only seconds before, gone on in our office.
   She thought the employee had stated his views in an angry and frustrated kind of way whereas I thought he had been calm and collected. I remember looking at her and not being quite sure what to say. I had the distinct impression she was looking at me the same way.
   This was a seminal moment in my somewhat limited understanding of human nature. What it meant was that I couldn't believe what I saw and heard. It was as simple as that. And it wasn't just that I couldn't believe my fellow co-worker. I had been given some reason to not believe myself.
   I am not so self-centered that I believe my perception of things is flawless. My perception of anything is simply that--my perception and not too likely the same as anyone else's.

   I think of that day in our office on a pretty regular basis. As I listen to people give me their observations on things going on around them I remind myself that these are only their perceptions and that mine could very well be totally different. I have also become very suspicious of gossip, particularly as it applies to myself. In the past, I have occasionally been told negative things that other people have said about me. As tempted as I might be to take things like that to heart, I always stop and remember that day in the office. I have vowed since then that I will form no second-hand negative opinion about other people within my sphere of influence. Until they actually do me me wrong right to my face, I will continue to relate to them as I would any other.
   The problem of different people's perception of things is mind-boggling when you think about it. I imagine a boardroom with maybe twelve people sitting around a large desk, working on a venture. What hope would there be in this with twelve different perceptions of the same issue? For that matter, how the hell does someone get an education?!
   Best to double-check, I guess. Or triple- or quadruple-check. Don't take anything on face value if it is at all important to you. Feel free to ask other people for input and then weigh it carefully. Find someone who generally sees things the same way you do and run stuff past them. Then find someone who never sees things the same way you do and run it past them as well. It might be an eye-opener.