More than ever, we seem to enjoy the pithy one liner with the positive implications.
On all social media, personal or professional, we witness people, often with grandiose titles for the jobs they do, posting the one liner and inferring it has far deeper meaning linked back to their grandiose job title. They regularly get a few thousand people acknowledge their existence as we hit the ‘like’ ‘applause’ button to show something. To show exactly what is rarely entered in to? Are we in a new age of reading horoscope mentality? Instead we read a pithy one liner and say Yep, that’s great.
1 – We follow influential people? Ask why are they influential. It is certainly not because they use the Internet search engine better than you to find one-liners.
2 – We are up our own agendas thinking acknowledging this stuff alone will allow influence to rub off on us. Oh to make a living publishing one-liners without any analysis or effort beyond having a search on the Internet for the next pithy quote.
When one door closes, another opens. Does it? Very very rarely. If you notice, majority of doors have decent catches so when one swings shut, closes, the chances are the catch locks it. If all the doors are so made, why should another swing open? Possibly if it is a gust of wind pushing a door shut, the change in pressure will cause another to be pushed; but rarely opened. Doors swing shut, but it is only in the horror films, when the tempestuous storms hits, they swing open.
A couple of stories I know not to be apocryphal since I was the one pressing the crew call button or kicking a hole in the closed door illustrate what really needs to happen when one door closes.
I had been asked back to East Africa to undertake a couple of pieces of work for a non-governmental organisation. Tight budget, no frills on this piece of work but the organisation had good links and a return ticket with British Airways then a decent hotel meant I felt reasonable safe carrying a brick of US dollar one hundred, $100, bills. 100 of them in fact – 1000 x 100 = $100,000. Back then, if not now, a decent sum of money. Through the airport in Nairobi, straight to the hotel, locked the brick in the safe, did not sleep well as doors on hotel safe deposit boxes do swing open remarkably easy.
A taxi to the office, handed over the brick before tea and coffee were offered.
Part of this money was my finances for a trip into Somaliland where all transactions would by cash or Kalashnikov (That will do nicely Sir – another story to debunk more apocryphal one liners). I took $10,000 and the rest was for other expenses and operations in Somalia
We flew in, did the work and returned to Nairobi via a circuitous, torturous even; route where more door stories came to the fore. I had to return to the office and found myself with a little bit of a dodgy stomach after days of eating badly took their toll. Walking from the office to the shopping mall, I thought the need to use the facilities were required. Finding the toilets locked on the ground floor, I asked an askari, private security guard, where the toilets were? He pointed me downstairs into the below ground shopping area. There I found a clean and serviceable Gents. As you would expect in a shopping mall? Well not (still) the norm in Kenya, definitely not in those days.
Having ensured all was in order, washing my hands, I turned to leave. The main door of the toilets had been locked. From not being able to get in to use a bathroom, now I was locked in a bathroom.
There was a window in this door so I knocked to attract the attention of another askari – Kenya, Nairobi, is never short of askaris, private security guards who develop a superciliousness directly proportional to the amount of buttons and epaulettes the company employing them puts on their uniforms. I could see the guy look as to where the knocking was coming from. And then turn and walk away.
I pulled on the door, it did not budge, even Chinese locks lock. In frustration I kicked the door. This was not a great build. My foot went straight through the bottom of the door. At least my right foot and shin were now out in the mall for anyone to see. The askari came back, looked through the window and asked what I was doing in there. Ask a silly question, you get a silly answer. I certainly did not answer with a soliloquy for sure. He unlocked the door and off I went to get on with my day. The opening door? Possibly the realisation after you have been travelling eating strange food, better to get locked in a toilet than locked out.
The other door lesson? Taught to me by a hippy Deep Purple rocking guy who went on to be head of hospital theatre operations ensuring cleanliness, put some toilet paper in your pocket – chances are when you need some, it will not be in the places where there is privacy and closed doors to do your business.
And so my trip was coming to an end. Had a few moments along the way as flew into places where Toyotas, the odd Nissan, had been chopped apart to become what have come to be known as ‘Technicals’ – chopped down pick up trucks with big guns mounted on the back. No doors let alone open doors. The good thing, I also saw an attempt to put one of these vehicles back to ‘civilian’ use, welded the top back on. The doors certainly did not seat well in the frames.
When one top is chopped off, chances are we will not see a return to peace.
I flew back out on British Airways, a Boeing 747, took my seat close to the back and decided I should pop to the bathroom before take off. Still struggling a little with a dietary system not wholly under control, I asked the steward and he said to go for it, we were delayed.
As I washed my hands, I felt the aircraft start to move. We were taxiing. Hurried to head back to my seat and seat belt. Opened the lock on the door. This door was not for opening. It was stuck fast. Couple of deep breadths, press the call button. No one came. No use panicking, press the button again and started to think how does one brace one’s self, taking off in a 747 WC? The engines started to rev up. I was going to take off from the tail and in the smallest room on the giant aircraft. As we turned on to the runway I heard the voice of two crewmembers come to rescue me. Not quite the sensational rescue of a technical pulling up to stop my being incarcerated by renegades, rather two BA crew having to put the life raft back where it fell and blocked the door of the toilet from opening. Profuse apologies from the crew as we all swiftly went back to our seats complaining about faulty catches and doors being jammed.
Are there lessons for any of us from this anecdote?
No harm done is never done without a good turn being required (think on)
Do not believe people coming out with pithy one-liners not backed by some knowledge or experience.
When doors slam shut, the way to make things happen is to ensure you have good people around, make sure there are other ways to move forward or open the damn doors yourself.
The one thing not to do? Believe things will happen without you making them happen – when one door closes another opens? Nope, not unless you make it happen.
Have a choice on which way next as you enjoy the rest of your day. Oh, and put some tissue in your pocket or purse – you never know about those doors and demands.
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