I have a manager who tells me that he doesn’t trust me. He says that he does not believe that I have his or the team’s best interest at heart, that I have my own side agendas, which I am pushing.
He states honestly that he doesn’t feel like he can trust me. He would like to someday, but he can’t — just yet.
He is a really bright guy. Hard-working with a solid work ethic and always able to resolve anything thrown at him, one way or the other.
However, his intellect is rationalizing and trying to find reasons to bridge the gap between his belief and mine and it’s probably proving a bit much for him to handle.
We have worked together for just over a year now.
On good days, he is extremely helpful and at times, I feel like he actually wants to solicit my inputs, not just put a face on it.
Then there are days when he is just upset and I cannot do anything right. I let it go most days but there are days when our frustrations do intersect.
The trust comment lingers with me long after it’s made. It has struck a chord within me.
I come back from the office after the day is over and am unusually quiet. Ana picks up on it quickly and I have to give her a brief overview. Mostly, I vent. I feel slightly bruised, wounded.
I would like him to believe and to convince him that I am as loyal as they come.
That there were a couple of instances where people who have an adverse opinion of him sound off and that I have on those occasions gently steered them away from there, without it seeming too obvious.
That I remember well how he helped me once when I was new and that I carry that gratitude with me always, irrespective of how insulting he could get, sometimes without even consciously realizing it.
I chalk it up to a brother taking some slight abuse from another and I hold no grudges towards him. In fact, they would have to go through me if they ever wanted to get to him.
I don’t think he realizes this or he probably does and doesn’t feel like he can acknowledge it.
My mother is very sick and I am worried about her, a lot actually. I wonder if her thin frame would make it through this bout of ravage.
As I sit across the conference table in the large room facing him on an early Wednesday morning, I glance down at my phone to read my younger sister’s message.
“She is still running a very high fever. Should we shift her to the hospital?”
He is meanwhile telling me how disappointed he is and how I could do a lot better.
I know man…. I know.
I see him look at me with naked disapproval and wonder what I should say to mitigate that. Maybe, just maybe he will know one day, that I am a shield, not the spear coming at him.
I have no way of convincing him otherwise. If this were a couple of centuries ago, maybe I would have knocked some sense into him.
There is no new message on my phone. It is 5.50 PM in India.
I would like to tell him that I just want to work as best as I can, laugh a little with my people around and go home to the family.
I start to tell him some empty words and then realize that the more he hears, the harder his opinions get.
He shakes his head slightly, unconsciously. He does not want to hear me. I can see he has already tuned out.
His opinions have solidified in the cold winter of suspicion.
As I watch the ocean out of the window sitting in that conference room hearing him speak, I suddenly realize something -
The hardest thing to give up is the thing we have decided to believe.
