Developing A New Skill Set
Exercising patience and tolerance in all facets of life
By Ron Ciancutti
We went to an art exhibit the other evening. When you retire, you do things like that: go to an art exhibit with your wife. There was wine and crackers with cheeses I could not pronounce. There were little cheese placards there to endorse my ignorance. The food presentation looked like art itself; I wasn’t sure if I should eat it or appreciate it, so I ate it.
Photo: © Can Stock Photo / shotsstudio
Now don’t get me wrong. I am not here to take the typical “I-don’t-get-it” attitude about art that is associated with the culturally challenged. And although I enjoy the honesty that those fellows bring to the table (they call it like they see it), my problem is the people who pretend they get the profound meaning of art but clearly do not.
Artistic Interpretation
One piece was a charcoal and chalk combo that depicted a panic-stricken gentleman who’d backed himself into a corner on the floor and was frantically covering part of his face for whatever near-impact event was about to happen. One observer said, quite accurately I thought, “Oh, his boss must be giving him a last assignment just before the weekend.”
Then a lady said, “Oh, look hon, that’s how you look when I bring the bills in from the mail.”
Then another guy studied it and said, “Doesn’t work. His face betrays his body.” His buddy deliberated that assessment and whispered, “Absolutely.”
“Oh, come on,” I thought. What did that even mean? It was simply a meant-to-be-unchallenged kind of utterance that couldn’t be argued from a guy hoping to sound intellectual about it all. His friend was even weaker. All he could do was agree.
Let’s be straight. If any art moves you personally, that’s great, but most of us don’t really see the “intrinsic message value” of lines and triangles and squiggles on a canvas. Sylvester Stallone said he bought a million-dollar piece of art many years ago and it was “multi-textured,” or at least that was what he was told. After a few weeks, things started falling off the piece, and he called the artist, who said, “No worries, it’s evolving.” As I recall the price was artistically renegotiated. Must have been “expendable.”
No Drama
Classical music carries the same burden. Some pieces are incredibly beautiful with parts very soothing to the ear. Some of it is incredibly repetitive and yawn-creating. But as you leave a live performance, you will invariably overhear someone complaining about the overture dragging in places and the players not being equal with the musicians in other orchestras.
Why all the posing? What compels us to be so critical and blow things out of proportion? Must we always have something negative to say? What about live and let live? I played in the percussion section of the school band since I was in fourth grade. I recall, on performance nights, we would all be in white shirts and black pants waiting backstage to go on, and some people were so nervous, squeezing each other’s hands, closing their eyes as if in prayer.
Why all the drama? I couldn’t understand. We practiced a million times. No individual was playing alone, so mistakes would likely go unnoticed. The audience was predominately our parents, who were easily pleased as witnessed whenever we actually said “Thank you” without being prompted. The reason for those elementary school concerts was to solidify families and neighborhoods. It was all about pizza with Grandma afterwards, who complimented us over and over, but probably didn’t even know what instrument we played. Why get so worked up about it all?
Packaged Differently
I’m not trying to play it off as if I am so cool; I just never got that keyed up about those kinds of things. But maybe, because of that, I never felt compelled to be overly critical of others. I don’t go off on bank tellers, pizza-delivery kids, or grocery clerks. Rarely are mistakes their fault. Why take them to task? Anyway, in this COVID era, I am used to bad answers from inexperienced help. If I ask three clerks the same question, I get three different answers. So, I smile patiently and say, “OK, are you sure you are out of eggs? Wanna go in back and check? I’ll wait right here.” Half the time, the patient “double check” turns out it my favor.
So, maybe the tolerance I am proposing is easier on everyone when packaged differently or more generously. It’s all in the way you look at it. A set of muddy paw prints consistently appears on the driver-side door of my truck. It surely doesn’t compliment the appearance of the car, but I don’t get angry. The second look tells me my loyal dog can’t wait for me to get out of the car. It’s a sincere message of love. Reckless? Yes. Out of control? Perhaps. But sorry, Caesar, my dog is unabashed. Wish more people in my life were so open about how they feel about me.
I’m re-evaluating the patience and tolerance we should all be exercising these days. Maybe the guy at the art show felt it was important to sound like he knew something others did not. I guess I should have given him some wiggle room to express that. I’m now observing young men and women trying to establish a foothold in their careers and noticing it’s harder than ever to do so. The solid brick-and-mortar companies my friends and I all aspired to in the 1980s have all but disappeared.
So, newcomers to the job market, be prepared to develop a set of skills that can be easily transferred to the next job. Much like having a personal retirement account, the new workers in this era have to learn to be self-reliant, versatile, and willing to develop themselves in areas they never anticipated. The days of nailing down a set of job skills and then riding those through retirement are gone. It’s a whole new environment out there, folks, and patience and tolerance must be center stage as we help each other evolve and survive.
Ron Ciancutti worked in the parks and recreation industry since he was 16 years old, covering everything from maintenance, operations, engineering, surveying, park management, design, planning, recreation, and finance. He is now retired. He holds a B.S. in Business from Bowling Green State University and an M.B.A. from Baldwin Wallace University. He is not on Facebook, but he can be reached at ron@northstarpubs.com.