The Return of the Stormtroopers

With more and more Stormtroopers being mandated back to the Death Star office, I am enjoying work less. It has taken me years to get comfortable working by myself. Deep down, I truly expected that having more people around would mean more fun. More engagement.

It hasn’t happened. There is zero fun being had.

I don’t actively avoid my team when they come into the office, but I do absolutely nothing to engage. When random interactions happen, I usually enjoy them, but I never go out of my way to initiate it. I consciously leave people alone.  I don’t want to get to know them and I really don’t want to be involved in their work unless I need to.  

Ironically, that choice probably makes the office environment worse for me.  More isolated. 

There are a select few people I work with I have known for close to a decade. I genuinely enjoy seeing them, and I will actively find time to connect with them. But the rest of the time? I would be perfectly happy just shutting my office door.

For a guy who constantly reminds himself to cultivate a better social life, you would think I’d be bending over backwards to connect. Instead, it feels like a psychological defense mechanism. If I don’t enjoy work, it will be that much easier to leave when the time comes. 

The truth is, out of those decade-long office friendships, I will probably only see one of them once I finally walk out the door. So why bother investing in others.  This is what i learned from my last few Death Stars

Maybe “bothered” is the wrong word for how I feel about the crowded office. Indifferent or minor annoyance fits better. The people themselves don’t bother me. 

It’s the tax I pay for the annoyance of the “theater of work.” Having to pretend to move the ball forward is exhausting when you already know the final score.  I am still judging myself by my old operational metric: you have to  appear to be moving the ball forward at all times, or it’s rolling backward.

In the grand scheme of things, I know that isn’t true anymore. But old habits die hard.

An Audience with the Empress

I finally met my Emperor(ess) this week. She has officially been my boss for two months, but this was our very first one-on-one conversation. It left me sitting with a lot of weird, conflicting feelings.

I don’t know if I like this new Empress yet

First, I was slightly insulted. She had never reached out once. Her message in team meetings was, “Reach out to me if you need to.” I never did, mostly because I don’t actually need her for anything. But in my mind, it is a leader’s job to actively meet their new team.

Second, I was incredibly relieved. I don’t want her micro-managing my business. There is nothing in my portfolio I can’t handle, and realistically, there is very little she can do to help me anyway. By design, my sector of the Death Star operates entirely independently from the others.

So, I was conflicted. Insulted that she didn’t care to get to know me, but relieved she has left me alone. It made me realize I was still looking for some kind of “adult validation” at work, regardless of how shallow the corporate relationship actually is.

The irony, which was definitely not lost on me, is that I treat my own team the exact same way. My philosophy has always been: Call me if you need me or if the crap hits the fan. Otherwise, you are adults—you don’t need me hovering. 

I guess I got a taste of my own medicine this week, and now I know exactly how it feels to be on the other side of that hands-off approach.

Crossing the Threshold

I spent the entire week leading up to this meeting trying to figure out if I should tell my new boss about my retirement date and that I am thinking of  dropping to four days a week.  

It actually caused me to lose sleep. I have absolutely nothing to lose at this point, so I was genuinely surprised by how much underlying stress it caused me.

When it came down to our 45-minute conversation, it just didn’t feel right to bring it up. Maybe I chickened out, or maybe I just kicked the can down the road until I get to know her a bit better (which, let’s be honest, won’t happen since we have no regular one-on-ones scheduled).

So, let’s just say I chickened out.

It is incredibly tough to cross that final threshold in your own mind and commit to what you are going to do. It is just as tough to figure out how to make a retirement exit strategy sound intelligent and coherent to corporate folks who simply won’t understand the logic.

I don’t think a real Sith Lord would have these self-doubts.

The Million-Dollar Question: Finding Your Joy

Padme brought up an expression the other day while exploring her own thoughts about returning to work: finding your joy. She was talking about the necessity of aligning your daily work with actual fulfillment.

Then, she looked right through me and hit the nail squarely on the head. She said she worries about me finding my joy, saying that it has been a very long time since she has seen me experience it.

She’s right. She sees right through the mask.

My immediate answer to her was that I have been chasing money just to get to the end.

That was the first answer that popped into my head, and it’s likely the truest one. I haven’t fully enjoyed my job since one of my startups collapsed about 15 years ago. That was the last time I was 100% engaged, all-in, and firing on all cylinders. I loved almost every minute of that five-and-a-half-year run.

There have been brief stints of engagement and happiness over the last 15 years, but they never lasted. At my last Death Star, I was probably all in for about three out of the seven and a half years I spent there, mostly at the very beginning.

For the last five to six years? I’ve drifted down to about one-third engagement speed at work.

That means I’ve only been experiencing one-third of the joy I could have had. Padme can see it, and it makes her worried for my upcoming retirement. Frankly, she should be worried. Work has undeniably dictated my mood for a long time. When I am finally left to my own devices without a corporate schedule, will I actually be able to lead myself to water and find that joy?

That is the million-dollar question, and right now, I can’t answer it.

I would love to sit here and state with 100% conviction that I will find my joy the second I walk out the door. But I can’t. It worries me, too.

So, Joy—if you are reading this and tracking my coordinates, feel free to fly down and hit me right in the face.

Looking for joy ?