Somebody somewhere was determined to make this just another lousy Monday, but I tried hard not to let them. On the phone first thing this morning (well, 8:30 am), I kept my head while others were losing theirs. For once, I was the one telling the Boss not to panic about whatever crisis he had concocted to start the week with.
How small a crisis was it? I canít even remember it now, thatís how small it was. Crises, at least the crises generated by people who thrive on them like the Boss, come and go, like politicians. Thereís no use getting excited about a crooked (or, just for the sake of argument, incompetent) politician getting into power, because he wonít be around long enough to destroy the system, and then someone else — someone either more or less crooked (or incompetent) — will come along to take his (or her) place.
And thatís the way it is when youíre in crisis mode all the time. Someone just has to dial it down a notch, and today was my day to do that. Sometimes, believe it or not, itís the other way around. Sometimes I get into a panicky mode and think the world is coming to an end, and itís the Boss who tells me to chill.
Iíd say it was a healthy symbiotic relationship, except for the fact that it canít be all that healthy to base a relationship around talking each other down off a ledge. Even if itís successful most of the time, you only have to fail once. And then where are you? And in how many pieces?