They roll in like thunder. Dark clouds and light flashing. Whipping up the sands of change and loud in their demands that they are here to make things better. And then they leave. They disappear or go off somewhere over the horizon having done something they thought was significant, but in the end run was only a slight reconfiguring of the landscape and is either irrelevant or inconsequential.
But their egos are big. They are huge. They strut ostrich like during their short tenures taking credit for all the good, deflecting to their subordinates all the bad. They've taken courses on this and are experts in this craft. There is no response possible, though some of us have tried and failed in frustration.
They have golden smiles. Serious nod reflex. Eyes that sometimes make you think they are listening. But they are not. Their agenda is the agenda and your needs are irrelevant. They'll tell you that they want to get to know you. Want to better understand you. They say this a lot after one of you dies and they find out that you existed outside of their domain. They are suddenly sensitive. Suddenly aware. Moved to find that you were more than what they thought you were in the role you had played for them. They promise to get to "know" those of you who have not vanished and have remained. But they don't. They have moved on by the next day, glowing in their good intentions.
They roll in like thunder and then they are gone. But there is never a void. Never a missed step or beat. Their replacement will strut in and make you feel that perhaps this time, yes this time, somebody is going to listen. That the changes will be based on a collective will and that a true democratic ideal exemplified. Yet, after a short passage of time you realize that these are the roles and this is the script. It is etched in stone and it's smarter to play your part than to deviate so that you stand out. So you blend in the best you can and count your days. They are not going anywhere, and you can only hope that you are.
But their egos are big. They are huge. They strut ostrich like during their short tenures taking credit for all the good, deflecting to their subordinates all the bad. They've taken courses on this and are experts in this craft. There is no response possible, though some of us have tried and failed in frustration.
They have golden smiles. Serious nod reflex. Eyes that sometimes make you think they are listening. But they are not. Their agenda is the agenda and your needs are irrelevant. They'll tell you that they want to get to know you. Want to better understand you. They say this a lot after one of you dies and they find out that you existed outside of their domain. They are suddenly sensitive. Suddenly aware. Moved to find that you were more than what they thought you were in the role you had played for them. They promise to get to "know" those of you who have not vanished and have remained. But they don't. They have moved on by the next day, glowing in their good intentions.
They roll in like thunder and then they are gone. But there is never a void. Never a missed step or beat. Their replacement will strut in and make you feel that perhaps this time, yes this time, somebody is going to listen. That the changes will be based on a collective will and that a true democratic ideal exemplified. Yet, after a short passage of time you realize that these are the roles and this is the script. It is etched in stone and it's smarter to play your part than to deviate so that you stand out. So you blend in the best you can and count your days. They are not going anywhere, and you can only hope that you are.
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