#28 We need to talk (even if you don’t want to)

Last year, I wrote a little piece called “Love letters,” where I apologized (kind of) because I would not write Christmas cards like the ones I’d sent the previous years. I was not feeling it; I was busy with other stuff and did not know what to say to people I had not seen or spoken to for more than a year. Last Christmas, I called some friends and met others, but I did not write a single card, not even when I handed presents. Still, unexpectedly, we got three cards at home.

The first was from our accountant.

The second was from our veterinarian, so I’m not sure if it was for the pups or for us, who pay the bills religiously.

The third was from a former colleague of mine, one of the few who had replied to my cards the years before.

When I opened the third envelope, I did not find the typical phrases— those that many write when there is nothing else to say— but an executive summary of what had happened in a year, including proud and painful moments, which led me to think that, either that person misses me or no one else is paying attention. Although I’m sure that over the years, I’ve touched some people’s lives (for good and worse, let’s not pretend I’m an angel), I cannot stop thinking that I got the card because of the second reason: someone should know better and listen.

For me, writing is a way to escape this world and get lost in lives I know are not mine and probably will never be. My characters laugh and cry equally, and most of them share things with me. The heroes have the traits I consider good, and the villains… well, those represent what people complain about. In my “bad people,” I magnify the terrible defects some pointed at me: the hunger to have more, the will to overcome whatever is thrown at them, the big mouth, the need to know. I’ve turned these characteristics into egomaniacal characters, people without spines, bad-tempered, and sometimes nosy. That’s my way of coping with my own issues, transforming the good and bad experiences into something I love, and creating something (books) that eventually will become my income source. In summary, I write because I like it.

But that person does not like it, not like me. I know this because I was told so years ago when I shared my plan to change my life. Some people like letters, and others prefer numbers, and that’s perfectly okay, until it isn’t anymore.

I am an engineer, or better said, I studied to be one, worked as such, and decided to be no more a few years ago. Over the years, I discovered the complexity of dealing with machines, money, and people, and without any doubt, I always thought the worst was dealing with my fellow humans. You can kick a machine in a moment of desperation (been there, done that), but you cannot do it to a customer or a colleague because… well, let’s say you can’t. When I became a people manager, I was very good at planning work, evaluating results, and looking for alternatives. Still, there was something I learned that really surprised me, which was taking care of people. The reason for such surprise was not discovering I had to do it, though, but realizing I was good at it.

Because I’m a woman, some people might think that my motherly instincts kicked in, and I took my team members below my wing and sang love songs to them— those people have never spoken to my team members or my kids— but please don’t confuse my gender with what I’m able to do. Please don’t believe that, because I have children, I am better at taking care of anyone. I was good at my job, not because I am a woman, but because I cared. I cared about the objectives, the goals, the projects, and how to make it all work and arrive home for dinner. And because I cared, I had to learn, and to learn, I had to listen to many people saying many things. When you want to operate a machine, you read the manual (or not… again, I was once an engineer); when you want someone to operate at their best, you must listen to understand what they need. That’s the job, and it’s a pity some people cannot see it.

So, to anyone who wants to listen, imagine me saying, “You have to talk.”

We must care for ourselves, but we cannot close our eyes and forget those around us. We all need help sometimes. It might be professional or personal, but that doesn’t mean we cannot help. Offering a coffee, walking together, giving extra time to finish a task, or just asking can make a huge difference, so, ask! If you see someone hurting, ask! And if you hurt yourself, keep sending cards if that helps you. I will keep on answering from my living room.

There are days I miss my old job; I can’t deny it…