A professional baseball player was asked recently about his role on the team. The broadcaster’s focus was on how he had been a positive influence in the locker room. A comedic thespian of sorts, he was credited with keeping the team in good spirits and maintaining a lighthearted atmosphere through the dog days of summer, helping teammates persevere when they were burdened with a bad slump at the plate. The player, a proud professional, made it clear that he wanted to be considered more than a “good guy”:
“If all they wanted was someone to keep guys loose in the clubhouse, they could have hired a clown.”
. . . .
I leave, before her, large shoes to fill.
Three years ago, I took on a new job, in a new town. as an insecure and relatively inexperienced outpatient orthopedic clinician. I was unsure of how valuable I would be to my employer as a therapist, so I decided to compensate for my feared inadequacies. I believed, mistakenly, that the happier and more entertained everyone was around me, the more secure my job might be and the more valuable an asset I would be considered. Within 6 months, with effort, I had become a social fixture in the office.
That was then; things are different now. If she wants someone to provide intellectually honest care to her patients, I state with confidence that I am the man for the job. If she is looking for someone to fill the office with happiness, she can look elsewhere.