What keeps me going...

I am constantly fighting the urge to say two simple words sum up how I feel 10 days after my father's death.

These words are...fuck it.

I want to give up. I want to not feel. I want to stay at home and watch Springer all day.

But I don't. It's not responsible and I have always been the responsible one.

It is a struggle. I feel like so many of the lessons that my dad taught me over the years didn't really get him anything.

Work hard and then you die.

I'm having trouble figuring out what the point of it all is.

I know that I need to get back into work. Get back into being a husband and a father. Get back to normal.

A new normal.

A different normal.

Monday comes and I unpack at my new cube. There's a welcome sign their from the two other Training Managers that I share this area with.

It says, "Welcome Home." It makes me cry (but that isn't too hard these days).

I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing. Is it home because I spend too much time here? Or is it home because I'm a part of something special at work.

I'm not really sure. It could go either way.

I start unpacking and I find another reminder of the friendships that I've made here at work.

Shortly after the Chicken was born, I told some people at work what my Mom did when she first saw the Chicken.

My Mom immediately unwrapped the blanket and checked all of the Chicken's fingers and toes.

"Mom, what are you doing?" I asked. "I told you already that she had all of her digits."

"Oh, I was just checking to see if she had web feet. It runs in our family, you know."

I didn't know that and (like the black godfather story) it entertained some of my friends to no end.

In fact, a couple co-workers took the time and effort to paper my cube with pictures of the Chicken but with duck feet instead of regular feet.

These pictures were put EVERYWHERE. They even told me that I would find more years later.

And now I'm unpacking after my second move in two years.

And I'm finding more pictures of the web-footed Chicken.

I spend all of Monday unpacking and getting ready for a class that I'm teaching on Tuesday.

I don't like the class very much. I don't know if I teach it very well. For the most part, I try to get through it without getting any of the content wrong.

I get asked if I'm ready to teach the class...if I'm ready to be in front of people.

I'm not but I recognize that I need to back into the swing of things.

The class ends up going very well. I get great feedback on the five-point Likert scale that we use for our class evaluation.

I leave the class feeling pretty good about my performance but I'm still a bit indifferent to being here at work.

Springer is still sounding good.

And then I get an email from one of the class participants:

VW,

I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for the work you do. I've had the pleasure of taking two classes with you as the instructor. In both classes I obtained a lot of knowledge about the resort and how to better myself as a Cast Member. I love the fact that you share the knowledge in a fun way and are not afraid to crack jokes. Many of the classes I have taken have been very dry and seem straight from the textbook. You, however bring a spark of excitement and energy to the content. It's nice to see that you KNOW what you are teaching. It is obvious that you understand what it is you are talking about and have done the work to make sure you can answer any questions that may come up. It doesn't come across as though you are reading it from the power point and making it up as you go. It shows that you have a knowledge of the subject and a passion for what you do. I look forward to having the opportunity to sit in on more of the classes you may teach.

Thank You Again,

A class participant

It finally hits me.

It's not work hard and then you die.

It's the impact that you can have on others that is what matters.

It is knowing that when you move to a new cube, somebody is there to welcome you.

It is knowing that when people like you, they are willing to go through the effort of pulling a prank on you that will last for years to come.

It is knowing that sharing a little knowledge can pay dividends that most of us will never see.

In my own way, I am making an impact.

And for right now, that is what keeps me going.

VW