Moving on up

I like to think people look up to me. I mean, I'm a funny guy, and I can be resourceful when its necessary. Yet when it comes to promotions and rising above my ranks I never seem to do well. Moving up usually comes down to two things: working well with others and leading the people beneath you. I am inexperienced in the ladder. Outside leading a boyscout troop back before I was even a teenager, I've never been in charge of supervising anyone. I was a magazine supervisor once, but supervisor an unruly periodical department is hardly the same as a bunch of disgruntled employees.

When it comes to moving up I guess people don't take me seriously. I've felt this way for many years. I think I've been typecast as the funny sidekick rather then the kind of guy that could lead a group. I like that I can make people laugh. It sometimes makes me feel like I have a bit of control over them. And typically I'm known as one of the few office clowns. That's never stopped me from applying for a job posting at work though, so when I saw they were accepting applications for an assistant buyer position in my office of course I put in for it. I know in my heart I don't have much of a shot, but putting in for these things shows initiative and will hopefully one day lead to a promotion. If I don't get it I won't be surprised, nor will I will disappointed. Sure it would be nice, but I've come to live with rejection in one form or another, and promotions are no exception.

Reflecting upon my moments of great rejection brought me back to middle school, to the one time I tried out for a promotion from average student to popular student. When I was in middle school something had been birthed that I could never have dreamed of: a gang. This gang included all of the problem kids; kids who had been held back a grade, kids who made noise in class, and I was a told a few kids had actually smoked pot. I'm sure some of them are legitimate criminals now, but at that time it was mostly a sham, and I knew no better. The notoriety was coming from so and so's cousin who was friends with someone who lived near the Latin Kings! How much more legitimate could a middle school gang get?

In middle school as was much as I am now: a pudgy, nerdy kid. This meant I was bullied and made fun of periodically. It didn't mean I wasn't popular or had no friends, I just had a bigger target on me then other kids. I decided I would somehow gain admittance to the gang in an effort to get what I thought would be protection, and popularity. And besides, at that period in my schooling, the bad kids and the cool kids were typically one in the same. I was made fun of by the gang members for trying to join, and needless to say, my application didn't make it very far into their ranks. They decided to forgo the interview process and move right on to mockery. This was worse than a square peg in a round hole scenario. A square peg, when given enough pressure could be forced into a round hole. I was a octagon peg that couldn't even find a hole of any shape or size.

It's been a week since my interview for the assistant buyer position. I think the interview went pretty well. Rumors are circulating over who the position is being given to, but nothing official has been said yet. No surprises really. No matter where I am it always feels like there is a secretive group of decision makers that I have no access to. I'll be called into the office, thanked for my application and they'll explain what I could do to improve myself for the next time a position comes up. I'll act out the part of the grateful employee and say the stuff they want to hear and dutifully return to my desk and do the same thing I've been doing for the past three years.

This is beginning to sound more and more like disappointment. Sure, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it. It would have been nice to have people look to me for answers, and getting a bigger paycheck would be nice too. Really, I'm okay with not getting it though. One day I'll have my chance. Hopefully. Until then, ever kingdom needs a good jester.