Hey, Ida!
Mon., September 25, 01:30 PM
My dad sang lots of funny songs. Many of them, I’m sure, were from old vaudeville acts. Dad really enjoyed going to the show. As kids, we learned the songs. My brother sang them in school, to the delight of his teachers. This one has been running through my head:
My name is Lemmie
Lemmie what, little boy?
Lemmie kiss ya.
What’s your name, little girl?
My name is Ida
Ida what, little girl?
Ida wanna.
I don’t think I’ve ever known an Ida, but that’s me this month. How long ago did I call GE about the stove? They came in a timely manner, and they told me the problem was electrical. (This has happened before.) Did I call the electrician? Not until two weeks later. He came the same day, replaced a breaker and charged me for an hour’s labor. Easy. Why did I procrastinate? I don’t know; I feel like a little kid digging in my heels and yelling, “I don’t want to!”
Ida wanna clean house. Ida wanna cook. Ida wanna do the laundry. Ida wanna rake leaves. Well, I don’t want to see summer end, with the days getting shorter. Ida wanna get up if it’s still dark outside.
This is very unlike me, so of course I have to analyze. Maybe it has something to do with my retiring. Whenever I was working, if there was something that had to be done now, I did it; we could worry later about whether or not it was someone else’s responsibility. After I had studied Theory of Constraints, a facilitator told me that such situations don’t exist. (You can’t make it the basis of a syllogism if it doesn’t exist.) She just didn’t know. If something has to be done, and if you don’t have time to analyze what will result if you don’t do it, that constitutes an emergency.
I remember once doing an analysis of the wastebaskets. The boy who was supposed to empty them usually managed to evade the task. Reminding him was useless. So, if I came into the office in the morning and the baskets were full, I emptied them. Just as I cleaned ashtrays and washed coffee cups. The secretaries kept that office running; I was usually the first one there.
In one sense it was a bad move, because he soon learned that people would do any of his tasks if he neglected them long enough. (And no, he wouldn’t be fired, because he was a hard-luck youth to whom they were giving a second – or third or fourth – chance.) So what would happen if I didn’t empty the baskets? I ended up deciding that it probably would accomplish nothing except overflowing trash. It would not force him to do the work. Other people – such as executives – might get annoyed, but they wouldn’t do it either. (Try never to work for someone who considers himself too important to do menial tasks. S/he will probably not be too kind to you either.) Most important, visitors – like potential clients – would not see our enterprise as a well-oiled machine, but as a junkyard. Until we hired daily housekeeping, I emptied the baskets.
I’ve “stepped up” in every job I’ve held. Of course, no job means I don’t have to do that any more. I have a feeling that “Ida” is a relaxation of the stress I put upon myself. Yes, I did it; nobody ever told me I had to. It made me a better worker, but in the end nobody cared.
Well, there’s no emergency now. I’m tired of these jobs, and Ida wanna!
