A co-worker asked me this week if I could confirm or deny a rumour which had begun to circulate about me. I was fascinated. Obviously I immediately started checking off dark secrets in my head, reassuring myself that none of them could possibly have made it as far as Sydney. And then I began pondering what possible piece of gossip I might have inadvertently (or knowing me, quite deliberately) inspired about myself. Believe it or not, I was left momentarily speechless by the eventual question (only momentarily, mind you).
"Is it true you're a dance teacher?"
Any one reading this who has seen me dance will be laughing already, but my co-workers weren't to know. I was tempted for a moment to answer "Why yes, I am. Rhythm and movement are all I live for," and see what happened. However, I was aware that this particular co-worker had just emerged from a meeting to plan the office Christmas party and was looking for entertainment for the evening, so after overcoming my brief moment of speechlessness, I explained exactly how many left feet I have (fourteen and a half at last count, and all wearing different sized shoes).
We went back to managing our respective spreadsheets, until about five minutes later when she casually remarked "It's not that difficult to believe. You could be a dance teacher". Eventually I said
"… thanks…" and went back to scheduling voice recordings.
It got me thinking. I don't really go out of my way to share details of my life with co-workers, but neither do I consider myself particularly secretive. I'm happy to answer questions about what I get up to. And yet someone who spends most of the day sitting at a desk just across from mine has formed a picture of me that is so far from reality it is literally laughable. I wonder how many of the impressions I have of people are complete nonsense. And what other hidden talents people might believe me to possess. And what happened to that pad of post-it notes I had…
Far from home
Garry with 2 Rs