Dog Sh*t & Dust Bunnies

As I prepare to retire after 27 years in the Public Service, I suppose it’s only natural to take a look back at what has become my career. I know I’ll be replaced and eventually, I’ll just be a memory, a dusty pile of files tucked away in a corner cabinet. The work will carry on. Still, I’m grateful for the things I’ve learned and above all for the people I’ve met (and I’ll speak more on this another time - too many big feelings to process for this piece!).

In our business, we measure and mitigate risks, we give advice, we come up with options, we debate a course of action, we work together or we agree to disagree. Come what may, because of the nature of the work, we also have each other’s backs. It’s the Public Service, but it’s also Public Safety. Yet the variable in all of our considerations that cannot be controlled, that can never be absolutely certain, is human behaviour.

As I reflect on my time with the Service, I also can’t help but think about what’s to come.

It’s a Saturday morning and I’m waiting not so patiently for my partner to get his act together so we can head to the city for some time away. It’s funny, isn’t it? We’ve got everything we need here at home, but we’re going away for the night to “get away from it all”.

Or rather, we WILL go away… when he’s finally ready to go.

As for me, I’ve been ready for awhile. In fact, I’m making up more stuff to do while I wait so I don’t blow my stack at him when he comes down the stairs. He knows me a little bit. He’s giving me a wide berth because he must sense that I’m irritated and anxious to get going.

This waiting period, this intermission between what I’ve been doing and what I want to do as the day goes on (much like this juncture in my work life) gives me pause.

It strikes me that I simply cannot ever die or otherwise be incapacitated for any length of time. I fear my partner and the son who occasionally calls this place home as well as his dog will perish in my absence. No, I must take my vitamins and eat my leafy green vegetables and exercise regularly so that I extend my life. I have to outlive them all. If I don’t, there’ll be nothing left of this house except for dog shit and dust bunnies.

It’s a blunt reminder - like the weather, when it comes to other people and their feelings, choices, and behaviours, that I am not in control.

The best laid plans are just that - plans. You can make your plans in a general sense, but you really can’t 100% depend on people and how they’ll react to things and circumstances. Sure, you can predict and try to manage around it, but you can’t really can’t know anything for certain. It’s human behaviour and it’s not an exact science.

When the kids were little, I remember thinking that we could all be ready to head out the door and perhaps even be running a few minutes early… and then someone would sh*t themselves.

It’s kind of a metaphor for life when you think about it. Some things are simply beyond our control.

In work and in life, I’ve been a true practitioner of the social sciences. As often as I don’t feel very ”peopley”, they are everywhere. We kind of rely on each other, even without meaning to. Our interactions make life more challenging, but also ever so much richer. It’s the dance we do while we’re here.

Maybe it’s all part of the bigger plan. Maybe it’s all part of the lesson we’re meant to learn. Maybe it’s the chemistry that creates the balance that keeps this boat afloat.

But goddamn it, every so often, I wish they’d all just let me lead.

In work and in life, please let my legacy be more than dog shit and dust bunnies.

*****

PS. We finally DID get on the road, and not too far off schedule. It was a pretty quiet drive, I’ll admit. As we approached the half-way point to our destination, my bladder interrupted our itinerary - yet another variable beyond my control. “Um, hey…” I offered nervously. “Can we stop somewhere so I can pee?”

“Sure,” he said, without any echo of irritation whatsoever. He is so unlike me - much nicer and far more tolerant - and in this particular instance, I was so grateful. “Do you mind if we pull up to this place up here?”, he pointed.

“Not at all,” I answered, relieved.

The dance continues.