Reality is that which remains

I used to work for a company whose president constantly quoted the refrain, “Perception is reality.”

And that would royally piss me off.  It still does, actually.

Because it was his way of saying that it didn’t matter what I did or didn’t do, all that mattered was what people thought of me.  So what if I killed myself trying to meet an impossible deadline.  If the client thought I was stupid, that was all that ultimately mattered.

It really killed any desire I had to go above and beyond the call of duty.  I mean, what did it matter?  I had no reason to knock myself out if the perceptions weren’t going to align with the reality.  And what if it’s in someone’s selfish interests to ignore facts in order to maintain their false perception?  I don’t quite buy it.  Sure, we all have our own viewpoints which will almost always slant in our favor.  But there has to be some common facts on which reasonable people agree.  Something hard and fast, not subject to interpretation.

Nowadays I find myself in the unenviable position of trying to explain this theory to my kid.  Her perception is that some of her teachers hate her.  My perception is that some of her teachers are really lousy teachers, and that she is so disorganized that she pays a huge penalty on that front.  It doesn’t do any good to do homework and forget to turn it in.  Her teacher’s perceptions are that she doesn’t give a good goddamn about the classwork and why should they try to change her point of view.  Sadly, they’re at least partially right.

So how do you explain this theory, when you rail against it personally?  Do I take a jaded attitude, tell her life’s inherently unfair, and she needs to learn to play the games or pay the price?  I don’t want her to learn the hard way, the way I did, that following the rules and having personal integrity simply isn’t enough to make it in the big cruel world.  Hard work isn’t always appreciated or rewarded.  Sometimes it’s even punished.   Being right and speaking your mind won’t always garner you respect.  Fight for justice but don’t expect it.

When my own parents tried to teach me these lessons, I scoffed at them.  I didn’t believe them, I thought they were old and had already surrendered and taken the easier path, not the righteous one.  I guess we all want to protect our kids from harsh realities.

A Gente de Minha Terra

I’m hoping, with that intro title, to get lots of Portuguese spam.  If you’re going to solicit spam, I always say, get the kind you don’t understand.  It’s so much harder to give away all your money to ousted Nigerian officials when you can only pick out a word or two of their heartfelt pleas.

Which doesn’t explain why I’m such a sucker for dogs and cats, since you’d think the utter lack of a verbal language would render it next to impossible for them to bend me to their will.  And yet they do, quite often.  Some of them aren’t even very nice about it.  The poor Nigerians use every flowery courtesy in the English language, and not a one of them has ever pooped on my bed, but it’s still Dogs: 55,017, Nigerians: 0.

Of course, mostly the dogs aim low.  A dog biscuit, maybe some leftovers, an extra blankie on cold nights.  I trust them to never raid my checking account, not because I think they’re above that kind of thing, but because none of them can drive, or buy stuff on eBay.    My oldest did have a fondness for twenty-dollar bills and my ex-husband’s American Express Gold Card.  But all she did was run around with money flapping in her mouth like a little green streamer, and put a hole or two in the credit card.  There was no actual financial damage.

They would work for me if  I’d let them.  Unfortunately, they have few marketable skills, other than the same skills you see listed as requirements for the girls on “Millionaire Matchmaker”.  They’ve got the silky, touchable hair.  They’re slim and leggy.  They are smart, but not smarter than me, they’re excellent listeners, and they would gladly move with me if I had to for my job.  The never ask me for anything outright, but graciously accept all my gifts.

I suppose this makes me their sugar mama.  Cool.