Providence

I had a boss once, lets call him Clyde. Clyde obviously worked out at the gym. His physical appearance commanded a presence in any room. He spoke confidently. When agitated he yelled loudly. A lot. His claim to fame in upper management’s eyes was his ability to drive his development team to meet very tight,  impossible schedules. His not-too-secret secret: intimidation.

Clyde was (and sadly no doubt, still is) an in-your-face-screaming type of motivator. I think this approach works well for him as a coach on the basketball court. And for the most part, it worked in the office if by worked we mean the organization gets people to work long hours and deliver on schedule.

However, many people left. Many people cried. Yes, literally cried in the office. Some people yelled back and some just got up and left, which always made for interesting meetings. Several people gave up time at home with their families because they felt intimidated by Clyde.

Then I come along. I was not intimidated. I did not flinch when he exploded in a meeting. The test manager might start crying. He would keep yelling. Others might return fire. When he had his say, I would affirm his passion and point out that we cannot [get] there from here and proceed to explain why. I would say what others in the room were either too afraid or too upset to say coherently. So, he became very exasperated with me.

He never knew my past. He did not know I had witnessed and experienced far scarier things than a yelling-suit. I think he was relieved to see me move on.

I wonder if subconsciously, I sparred with Clyde because I enjoyed it in some displaced-aggression kind of way. I could point out the technical flaws and make him feel, well, pretty stupid pretty easily. I remember enjoying that part.

As difficult as it was during our time working together, I think God orchestrated our lives to intersect exactly as they did and exactly when they did.

So as difficult as my now might be, the same must hold true.