Paint and an Artist

My last day on the job was October 13, 2014. And there are days when I feel like I'm still picking up the pieces. Have you ever worked somewhere that was run by a bunch of hypocrites? Crisp business suits. Specific job descriptions. And the inability to sincerely thank those making them look good. You are never good enough. And you are told so every time you don't meet their unrealistic expectations. And to make it even better , you work for the church. It will destroy you, from the inside out. Each little word.  Each little reminder that you aren't good enough.  Each tiny mistake enlarged for all to see. And you try. You try so hard not to let it get to you. You try to have that "tougher shell" that those who inflict the pain insist you need to have to survive. Except it doesn't work. Because you are a sponge. You take in your surroundings. You put your heart and soul into what you create. So when your superiors find fault with your work —it hurt

We rely on stereotypes. We prejudge people with our preconceived ideas—and "people watching" is a classic example of this. Especially when you are stuck in a waiting room at the Social Security office and your phone is out of commission. I took the room in at a glance. If needed, I could probably describe the room in detail from the number of chairs to the limited artwork on the walls. The first human interaction I had was with the security guard. Who directed me to a computer to sign in with. He didn't smile. He was clearly of Asian decent, with a stocky build and weathered face. He sat behind a desk and the most you could see of him at any given time were his eyes and balding head. He reminded me of our head copy editor—an Asian version of Gerald. His face was encased by wrinkles, with a hint of merriment in his eyes. I liked him. We each received a stern reminder from the security guard. Turn off your phone. Which is stated on a sign taped to his desk as well.