being micromanaged
Because we were celebrating something lovely, we ate at a fancy restaurant. We made reservations months in advance. And before we sat down to eat, I got seven email messages from the restaurant: confirming the details. These were nailing down an assurance that we would pay to tell us how committed they were to their dress code and to give us friendly pointers to enjoy the menu. Reminders followed those messages. As we got closer to our outing, I began to feel a little rebellious about their nagging (Don’t miss a course! Men, wear a jacket, or we'll turn you away!)
On the day of our reservation, I got a call from the friendly folks at the restaurant reminding me--yet again--that we should be on time for our meal. I started to laugh. "Wow," I said, "y’all are really intense! You better measure up to all this anticipation you're building!"
They did measure up. The food was amazing; the service was excellent.
However.
Each of us carried - especially the guest who had sprinted to ensure she was on time- a bit of resentment because of the onslaught of rules and reminders. We showed up on time and wore the right thing. But I have a sneaky suspicion we would have done it without all their reminders!
That restaurant is in full control.
The next day I watched a small child slide out of his seat to do a happy may-pole dance around the grab bar in the middle of the subway car. Every single one of us was watching him. No exceptions. We all looked up from our cell phones and our daydreams to smile at his utterly joyful little face. "I love this pole," he chortled to his bemused mother, "it's great for my dance moves!" And the entire subway car of jaded New York City commuters burst out laughing.
That, my darlings, is power.
Making rules, sending memos, and standing over someone to ensure they go in precisely the right direction may give us a sense of control. Mostly it will just exhaust us. But the real power is the metaphorical equivalent of a joyful, irresistible dance of passion. It’s magnetic and inspiring.
