Arnold Levine. My mentor. Died about ten years ago. Here's how he taught me to stay motivated, and I'm going to tell it the way he would want it told, it won't be PC.
Me: "I can do this anymore, I'm sick of it."
Him: "Really?".
Me: "Yeah, its mind numbing. I'm turning to jelly."
Him: (cold stare like he was about to murder me. 60 years of rage, booze, cigarettes, diabetes and disappointment bearing down on my through eyes that became dead in a flash).
Him: "If I put a fucking gun to your head and told you I'm gonna blow your brains all over this office could you keep going?
Me: (nervous laugh).
Him: (louder and angrier). "You think this is joke? You think I'm fucking kidding?"
Me: No. You're serious.
Him: That's right. Now shut the fuck up and keep working.
No, this wasn't abuse. It wasn't bullying. There was no insensitivity. I wasn't sure he wouldn't get violent in some way if I back talked. He was teaching me a lesson about strength and humility as I wrestled with my frustration and self-importance. There are a dozen stories like this from working with him, not one the same. I miss him. I loved the guy.
I should probably hang out with my angry chainsmoking bit-twiddling mentor more while he's still around. Telling people who "can" that they "should" is something where delivery makes all the difference. Those greybeards don't tolerate slacking or whining when it's business time, and when you've earned a smile for being clever, damn it's good. Also there are so many more nuances to the appropriate use of the word "fuck" I don't understand yet.
Me: "I can do this anymore, I'm sick of it."
Him: "Really?".
Me: "Yeah, its mind numbing. I'm turning to jelly."
Him: (cold stare like he was about to murder me. 60 years of rage, booze, cigarettes, diabetes and disappointment bearing down on my through eyes that became dead in a flash).
Him: "If I put a fucking gun to your head and told you I'm gonna blow your brains all over this office could you keep going?
Me: (nervous laugh).
Him: (louder and angrier). "You think this is joke? You think I'm fucking kidding?"
Me: No. You're serious.
Him: That's right. Now shut the fuck up and keep working.
No, this wasn't abuse. It wasn't bullying. There was no insensitivity. I wasn't sure he wouldn't get violent in some way if I back talked. He was teaching me a lesson about strength and humility as I wrestled with my frustration and self-importance. There are a dozen stories like this from working with him, not one the same. I miss him. I loved the guy.