Whenever my journey in the hallowed halls of the IB is broached, the inevitable question arises, flitting about like a socially awkward butterfly at a summer garden party. The subsequent conversation often seems like a scene stolen from 'Waiting for Godot': "So, you’ll move on to bigger roles?" "No." "Why ever not?" "Still waiting for Godot.” Ah, the classic deflection! This persistent query, looming like the proverbial sword of Damocles, often springs from the lips of some well-meaning HR savant who believes they've stumbled upon the hidden depths of my talents. How gracious of them!
But, you see, when faced with such interrogations, I usually lean into a sly grin and gracefully sidestep. For I've chosen to remain, by design, entrenched in the world of literature. Not because I'm oblivious to promotions, but because, in the very marrow of my being, I'm a poet. I dance to the unsung rhythm of silence and savor the secretive murmurs of the fall leaves. Sure, administrative roles offer a bird's-eye view, perhaps even a plush chair and a swankier office. But can they compare to the sheer enchantment of seeing a young mind utterly smitten by a sonnet or a story? The classroom, for me, is akin to a live theatre where Shakespeare's musings coalesce with a teen's daydream. My raison d'être is not merely to recite literary classics, but to mold the very souls who, I hope, will one day pen them. *Well, as they say, the proof is in the pudding! And oh boy, have my students whipped up a decadent dessert! Here, feast your eyes on the culinary... I mean, poetic masterpieces these future Shakespeares have whipped up in the kitchen... err, classroom. Bon appétit... or should I say, happy reading!
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I recently found myself marveling at the independent shenanigans of my friend's tabby. As it confidently knocked a coaster off the table, I turned to her and mused, "Ever wonder why your cat doesn’t need a kitty boss overseeing its mischief?" She gave me a puzzled look, but think about it! Cats, like many of today's workers, seem to have figured out that traditional leadership is pawsitively outdated. While some of us can't even manage to match our socks in the morning, the contemporary American workspace is all about embracing our inner feline autonomy. And if research is to be believed, hierarchy in companies is becoming as redundant as that cat-themed 2020 calendar still hanging on your wall or for that matter, matching socks!
Hold onto your mismatched socks, folks, because according to studies in the USA, an increasing number of companies are doing away with the classic boss-subordinate structure. Maybe they figured out that the coffee fetched by interns tastes the same as the one fetched by, well, anyone else. Or perhaps they've just acknowledged the infinite wisdom of the age-old proverb: too many chiefs, not enough Indians. Remember the time when being called "bossy" was almost a compliment? Now, it's more like: "Hey bossy pants, where's your team?" Answer: "Who needs one when I have ME?" Jokes apart, the shift underscores a bigger movement: empowerment! Recognizing that each individual has the potential to inspire, manage, and innovate on their own terms. No hovering supervisor required. The future of work might just look like a flat, open playground instead of a pyramid. It's time to become your own inspiration, be your own leader. And, maybe, just maybe, get yourself matching socks. If you're into that kind of thing. While, I sit back and admire my mismatched 'floral' socks, may the forests of democracy flourish! Here's to leading myself with a hint of tabby flair! Jaspreet Mann |
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