This year I want to have a motivated start. No career with handbrake on, this is my New Year´s resolution. I dream about finishing each day with a little success, receive grand applause from my boss and colleagues and to finally hold the winner´s trophy in hands when it´s time for the next annual celebration of the department. It hurt too much to see my dear colleagues return to our table, touch glasses too their success, while I was secretly annoyed that they received the prize and not me. Days after the celebration I still think about whether the celebration is meant to motivate or demotivate. For those with the trophy next to their dessert it was of course motivating. But for the rest? I ask myself if the chosen ones were really that much better than me. The more I think about it, the more I get frustrated by the whole thing. A prize for reaching the revenue target? My boss was happy about it. But was it not also my achievement? What about countless acquisition calls I took over from him in the last quarter in order to keep his back free? Basically it´s almost blatant that he- and not me- got the trophy for it. Or the prize for the best advertisement flyer. I feel like belatedly lifting my arm and ask, “who made the brilliant photos? Who edited the texts? That was me, me, me!”
I slowly unpack my laptop and plug it into the docking station in my office. My first working day after a long winter break can begin. “Happy New Year” a colleague greets while sticking his head into my office. He opens the door a little more and flashes his golden trophy. “I´ll put that one into the gents´ toilet,” he sings. I look at him pitifully because I know what he got it for: the funniest slip of tongue. I would die of shame if it would have been me. Having our boss handing it over while the lapse is being put on repeat on the screen while the entire room bursts out laughing. “My resolution” he says, laughing, “Doing an English course with a personal trainer. I definitely don´t want to attract attention again by using ambiguous vocabulary at my next presentation.” He thinks for a moment and adds, “however- sex sells.” Grinning, he looks at the trophy. “And, also got some resolutions?” he asks with a smile. I look into his eyes and answer fervently, “Yes, I do,” and with a smile I add, “Let the past be past. That´s where it belongs.”
As he leaves the room whistling, I am already changing my password. Every day it shall remind me of my resolution: “2015-KMA”. Enter.
Happy New Year!