Frankly Told: Safety In Numbers
The sound of the light clinking of cutlery helped to build the mood of the cafe. Soft jazz played from the overhead speakers embedded in the ceiling and the murmur of businessmen and businesswomen surrendered itself to white noise.
He swirled his drink with the splint wood that came with it. The brown and white danced in the cup draining the foam from the surface and bringing out the sweet aroma of the hot chocolate. The rains had called for a hot beverage and he loved it. The dull skies, the heavy coats, the slowing down of the city and the pop of the green in the few planted areas.
Across from him sat a man, a little older with slightly greying hair. The look on his face told of his dissatisfaction with the black coffee he had ordered. With a sigh, the white mug was set down and the older gentleman looked up from his wasted money.
“Where did all the decent coffee go to in this city,” the man asked in a gruff tone.
“I think I am the last person you would ask that and get a proper answer from,” he responded, lifting his hot cocoa slightly into view.
“Right,” the man scoffed. “Well, no sense in wasting money.”
There was a beat of silence. He looked out of the window and caught the race between two droplets to the bottom of the window pane. Before they reached the bottom his attention was called away.
“Now,” the older man spoke again. “I’m going to cut to the chase here. I called you this morning to discuss something that I have been meaning to ask you.”
“Okay,” was all he could say back.
“It’s to do with your work,” the old man continued.
He nodded.
“You have been in the same position for the past decade,” the old man prodded. “Why?”
“What do you mean why?” the question took him aback.
“Exactly that,” the old man pushed. “Do you not feel like you are growing? Do you not strive to move up in the industry? I would like to know from you, what seems to be the matter?”
He paused and leaned back in his seat. A sigh escaped his lips and his fingers drew a line around his goatee.
“I didn’t think this was where this conversation was going,” he answered. “I am actually okay where I am. When I think about it, I can pay my bills, I have steady pay and I am able to work within my abilities. I did not know that would be an issue.”
“It isn’t particularly an issue,” the older man put forth. “I am just wondering because I have seen what you are capable of. You are someone who can do great things in this particular industry. Being your boss for as long as I have, I think you are someone who has the capacity to move in this market.”
“I don’t see it like that actually,” he said.
“How do you see it?” the old man inquired, leaning forward.
“I see it as I finally have the life that I wanted to live,” he took a sip of his drink. “Like I am able to satisfy my needs without chasing this unknown concept. Yes, lots of money is nice, and yes being on the front lines of innovation is great but I think my days of running after that are over.”
The older man stroked the scruff on his chin in intrigue and equal measure bewilderment.
“I no longer dream of being at the top,” he continued. “The grandness of that idea displeases me. I’m just living for the now and if I can help it I’d like to live in a space where my skills are able to meet the demand for them. Where I am comfortable enough to just be.”
“So you do not see a future of moving to a bigger company?” the older man asked.
“Not unless this one dies out,” the younger man shrugged. “I recognize it sounds like a privilege to say this and I am not so far removed from reality to see it as such. I think I spent too long trying to find my niche and now that I found it, I’m good.”
“Interesting,” was all the old man could say.
Silence resumed its seat between the two men. An out-of-pocket laughing spasm caught one of the people in the cafe and their laughter drowned out all the other noise. He sat there slowly sipping his drink, the steam fogging his glasses up.
“Do you not feel the urge to grow in the position you are in?” the old man came out of his thought.
“Well,” the young man started. “I did when other things in life started to come into the picture. You know… Wife, kids, house, cars, the whole sha-bang. Those thoughts left just as fast as they came. The person I’m seeing doesn’t care for those things and to be honest, is quite okay with the dynamic we have right now.”
“This generation…” the older man wondered.
“She works too,” the young man said, with this sheepish grin on his face. “Anything she wants, she can get for herself. A Miss Independent, so to speak.”
“I see,” the older man took a sip of his coffee and cringed at the taste. “In my time, that almost sounds like complacency so forgive my asking. In your capacity and with all your potential, do you not feel an itch in your soul to do more?”
“I do, sometimes,” he answered. “I just don’t listen to it because it is less of a force than the total acceptance that where I am I do not have to fight for my portion. My position is mine and I’m not afraid of losing it, owning to the fact that I have done it so well for so long, the company might just fall apart if I leave.”
The older man scoffed unconsciously.
“I mean it,” he affirmed. “Not to sound proud or anything but if not for me, my department would not run as well as it does. This well-oiled machine where everybody knows their strength and that is what they work with and so we close any gaps of lack.”
“A safety in numbers,” the older man commented.
