|
I don't like people who use crying as a tool to get what they want. I haven't met many in my lifetime and don't have any in my workplace. That said, I can't be quite so harsh and say there is no place for crying in the workplace. Well it shouldn't happen but nowadays with so much stress, and a harsh boss, it's easy to see why it can happen. I am a good worker and get things done efficiently as a rule, but I have cried at least once in my current job. Reason: after an extra stressful and busy week I get yelled at for no valid reason by my boss, who is very demanding and is always quick to point out flaws rather than qualities. So, I cried. It was just too much and I was trying so hard to do everything right and make everything come out seamless - that's the problem, sometimes my boss doesn't realize exactly how much work gets put into something, and how efficient I actually am. I didn't cry in front of him, but then he called me to his office and realised that I had. He later apologized. I didn't do it to elicit sympathy, I had just had enough at that particular moment. I try very hard not to get emotional in work situations, but I am thin-skinned and sometimes I really cannot help it - particularly when I feel that whoever it is that has yelled at me is totally unjustified. I just feel the tears well up inside and there's not much I can do to stop them streaming out, even when I am trying my best to stop.
__________________
Whether we write or speak or do but look
We are ever unapparent. What we are
Cannot be transfused into word or book.
Our soul from us is infinitely far.
However much we give our thoughts the will
To be our soul and gesture it abroad,
Our hearts are incommunicable still.
In what we show ourselves we are ignored.
The abyss from soul to soul cannot be bridged
By any skill of thought or trick of seeming.
Unto our very selves we are abridged
When we would utter to our thought our being.
We are our dreams of ourselves, souls by gleams,
And each to each other dreams of others' dreams.
Fernando Pessoa, 1918
|