I think some people have a general understanding of morality. Actually, I think most people have a general idea of what morality looks like. Good vs. bad, doing the right thing, whatever you want to call it.
My father-in-law consistently says “do the right thing” — sure it’s a little loose, a little up to interpretation, but it kept his kids honest, for the most part at least (I got the good one).
But then there are people that you just look at kinda funny after they say or do something. Or maybe lack of saying or doing something. And you’re just thinking:
“Where the fuck were you raised? Under a bridge? With trolls? With the stalagmites in caves? Because you are about as considerate as a giant fucking rock I’m about to trip and face plant over.”
Mind you, the cave I’m picturing has no hazard signs or guard rails or any form of precautionary tale. It’s just… there. Just this friendly little rock. Waiting.
And that’s what I’ve done. Over and over and over again. Just to scream in pain, reluctantly get back up, dust myself off, and take a look behind me to meet the stale, gray face of a mouth that reads “should have watched your step.”
In one capacity or another, be it romance or trying to find my professional footing in this shit-slosh of a wave pool we call society, no offense it’s like I tripped and fell and fell hard. Those hard falls. Those are what leave impressions on your soul. Those are what feel like shipwreck memories.
The most recent email in my inbox is from the guy that ghosted me, ironically enough. Clinical specialist role.
For those of you who don’t know, clinical specialists are individuals that provide systems support and operating room protocol management for various biotechnologies. Well, I had no med device experience. Currently still trying to break into this industry. Which feels more gate-kept than Fort Knox.
I have the clinical experience, be it veterinary or human. Laboratory research and clinical research expertise, in addition to a master’s degree. I even worked as a teaching assistant during my final semester in my master’s program and absolutely loved it. Well, more so the teaching aspect and not really the grading/student conundrums.
Side note, I literally had a student email me bitching about their grade on an assignment, and said “if you had graded this earlier, I could have resubmitted it before the deadline and gotten a better grade.”
Oh, I’m sorry… could you have now… like what?
Let that entitlement just soak in. For fuck’s sake. I do NOT miss that bullshit.
Anywho, trying not to be too tangential. Maybe that’s why she didn’t do well on the assignment, maybe I went off on too many tangents and she didn’t get it. WHATEVER, IT’S MY FAULT, CLEARLY.
At any rate, I have the building blocks — the foundation of what it takes to coordinate OR workflows in an efficient and sterile manner, communicate information effectively (don’t ask that bitch ass student though), and the tenacity to keep after it until I can continue to level up.
Got all the way to the third round. Also, never met the guy in person — this was done all via phone. Never even put a face to a name. But nonetheless, as we were getting off the phone, I had a bad vibe. I felt like I would never hear from the guy again. I felt as though I didn’t make as good of an impression on him as I did his colleague in the first interview.
Then he surprised me and said “how about this, I will tweak an assignment I like some of our candidates to complete. I want a more systems/workflow approach/perspective on this case study. It’ll be in your email tonight or tomorrow morning.”
Cool. Let’s get after it.
Next day. There it was in my email inbox 6am sharp.
After driving a total of 5 hours to help my in-laws with the passing of their American Bulldog, RIP Bentley, I researched and crafted and polished responses to the interviewer’s questions. Responses I was proud of. But something inside me was still like “yeah… this dude is not gonna pick you.”
Submitted my answers on a Friday. Didn’t hear from him all the next week. Sent a follow-up email asking for confirmation of my responses and if he wanted to schedule a time to discuss them. No response for another week.
Cool. So like this is what hiring managers do these days? Fucking ghost people?
Was that your version of hitting and quitting?
Like what I wrote, did he? Who knows, fucker probably took the info and ran with it. Or never read them. Probably the latter.
But after two weeks I sent another email to finally close the communication loop on my end: and he FINALLY responded.
“Oh yes, going in a different direction. Thanks for your professionalism blah blah blah.”
All the while I just imagine the cable guys from South Park tearing off their nipple patches and finger twirling their areolas.
What’s even more rich… this dude told me he got into biotech being in the right place at the right time: being a golf caddy for some big wig in biopharma. No healthcare background. Nothing.
Just another dude happy to suck another dude’s dick.
Or so that’s the picture it paints in my demented mind. Probably shouldn’t have typed that. But fuck it, I’m bitter. This is why good people say and do stupid shit… they’ve been tipped too far too many times.
Why isn’t meritocracy more in our vocabulary? Why is it all a game? Why isn’t being a good person more incentivized? Like these are all great questions. And I’ll likely never have the answers.
Knowing what I know now, if I was a gradeschool teacher, I would encourage fighting, if ya ain’t first you’re last type language, and always a swift “you’ll get him next time, Johnny!” because that’s the real fucking truth.
That’s why adulthood hits you like a shit ton of bricks that fell off the 18-wheeler and you’re enjoying the 75-degree weather with the top down in your Mazda Miata.
Being a good person shouldn’t be incentivized though. Because then it isn’t real. Then it’s not genuine. Then you don’t have people in your corner holding you up for any more reason than to knock you back down.
You need the people that will wipe away the blood and sweat without a response, who help retape your worn knuckles. Who pat your back and restore your oxygen levels after you took a blow to the gut.
Being a good person isn’t incentivized. It’s not based upon the idea of reciprocity. And it’s not built upon the ideology that even though you suffer, you will reap success.
Yes, we live in a world of checks and balances, and I’ve witnessed karma with my own eyes. Throughout it all, the most frustrating thing is remaining doggedly determined to be soft in a world built upon bitterness and resentment.
Be kind. It’s free. Your moral compass will point you in the direction you need to go.
And throughout all my dismay and disappointment, my direction is still up.
Before I met my husband, I was beaten and bruised with the cold reality that humans can be horrible, awful beings. I swore after every heartbreak I wouldn’t lend my soul out to another. No more vulnerability for me. No. I couldn’t.
Unspeakable things. Things I can’t get out of my memory. Things I have tried desperately to forget. Things that I’m not sure if were real or not had happened.
Even from such a young age… God, people can be twisted and wickedly selfish.
But I don’t have to be. I won’t.
I won’t paint it like it was easy — it took years and a shitload of therapy to let my guard down with my husband. To physically be able to wrap my arms around him instead of myself during an embrace.
But over time I realized his soul was just as lost as mine.
Like we were two floating halves, swirling and pirouetting around the ballroom of that beloved sunken ship beneath the cave. Like we had never experienced any of life’s horrors — or maybe, that we were all too well acquainted, and still preferred to dance in the wreckage.
