Mr. Happy Pants

It’s always been a struggle for me to not take work home with me. Pulling out a document I had been working on several hours ago at the office: it’s a giddy, rush-of-adrenaline moment. Now, in a new environment, it’s a more intense battle. I really love what I do!

Being the new girl at work, however, I’m the outsider looking in over shoulders. Or so I thought. I’ve found it’s a safety zone for sharing. Even if I wrapped my emotional baggage in designer bags, it’s baggage nonetheless. When I noticed that the level of communication at work was essential to the momentum of the team, I realized how the empathy and wisdom they gave and gained made taking work home an even more positive thing. That baggage I carried in? It’s been lightened and can now be refilled with encouragement.

I’m learning to listen; I’ve been listened to. Now I feel like an insider.

I thought I was alone in some of my quirks and hang-ups. I told myself to shut up if the urge to speak arose. But as I listened, they listened in return and turns out, we aren’t as unique as we think when it comes to mishaps of life.

And Mr. Happy Pants? He’s the gentleman who inspired me, long ago, to smile, laugh at oneself and move on. Every time he came into my old store, he wore his ripped pants; a big L-shaped tear that created a flap right over the seat of his pants. If only his boxers had smiley faces: ) He was aware of this clothing defect, but he always smiled through the recounting of his stories… even when the things in his life were ripping him apart.

The next time I go into work I can be Mr. Happy Pants, because I work with a group of Happy Pants. They too have been ripped, but when they brought their home into work, they slipped on Happy Pants, and could take that renewed work energy home with them. Today, especially, I saw how my co-workers and boss take those Happy Pants everywhere, and I see sharing -tears, rips and all- really is caring.