How to Bring Out the Best in People

On Monday I post an entry on my Facebook page:

"I am at work. I do not want to be at work. I want to be back in ******" (the location of the play in which I have just appeared...)

My post seems to strike a chord with my fellow cast members, who during the course of the day post up a series of comments highlighting what they will most miss about the production.

- The performances themselves (well attended and well received)
- Their own particular props and costumes
- The staggeringly well designed set
- and - of course - the people!

For the past couple of months, I have been able to casually say "night!" to my colleagues at around 5pm, go home and have something to eat, and then hot-foot it to rehearsals where I have been able to enjoy long periods untroubled by thoughts of work. I haven't told a single co-worker of my newly regained passion for amateur dramatics, even those of whom I am very fond. I haven't told them because I have now learned the hard way that there is only one way to keep a secret.

Tell Absolutely No-one.

This doesn't apply to former co-workers naturally. One of the people I tell about the production is my organisation's former Chief Executive, now retired. And I feel enormously boosted when he comes along to see the play in the middle of its week-long run.

When the bullying campaign against me began escalating two years ago, Former Chief Executive had already  been pensioned off, but we have always stayed in touch (not least because he is one of my referees). Obviously he could not intervene in any way with the unfolding and ghastly disciplinary processes, but throughout he provided a kindly listening ear and gave me helpful guidance on the way in which the organisation would be likely to respond. He is waiting for me outside the auditorium as I scuttle out to catch my train, and offers me a lift home.

He seems amazed at my confidence on-stage.
Sheesh. I am pretty bloody amazed at myself.

"I didn't know you could sing!" he says, cautiously navigating his way through the back streets of Anonymous Area of London. "I couldn't believe it when you came on right at the start and sang the song which opened the show."

Hmmm. This comment highlights the staggering and depressing contrast between the World of Work and my Secret Life Outside. I am probably only a fairly average singer. But by a stroke of great good fortune, I was given a part in a show which happened to feature a professional musician among the cast. And he had lots of ideas for things I could sing, and interesting ways to accompany me on his guitar, and the upshot was that our play almost turned into a musical !

And this is the kind of thing Professional Musician used to say to me when we were rehearsing:

"That's a bit high for you - I'll lower the key"
"Try dropping your shoulders"
"Oooh - that really suits your voice"
"Why don't you sing that as if you were singing it to yourself?"
"You're doing very well"

All very light touch and casual, and constantly focused on building and boosting my confidence. It is plain that if he were transplanted to an office environment, he would be an outstanding manager of staff. Not like my managers. No, no. Nothing like them at all !

And all the other people in the cast were supportive, and complimentary, and funny, and loving. And no-one did the kind of things the Jackals did to me at work. No-one took away and hid my script, made snide comments, excluded me from social occasions, lied about me, sneered at me, did impressions of me behind my back, shouted at me, bullied me, or undermined me.

Because everyone involved in the production was doing it for the sheer joy of it; and because everyone felt secure in their own considerable talents and abilities. So it was easy for us all to accept and respect each other.

God, no wonder I feel totally gutted it is all over.

Last night I logged onto the theatre website, and wrote down all the audition dates for next year's shows into my brand new 2013 diary. One always has to have something to look forward to.