The Wolf of the Workplace

On Expecting the Expected when Dealing with a Wolf

As a former teacher and therapist, I often found myself in need of a relatable allegory to teach complex aspects of humanity, and the complicated ways we interact, to children. Fables are a natural starting place, but the imagery and animalistic parallels are not as easily understood as they once were. The Modern Retellings series is attempting to change that.

Adapted from Aesop’s The Wolf and the Lamb may this retelling, in 2 minutes or less, enable a conversation to explain that wolves will be wolves, despite what they may say. After the story, read the moral of Aesop’s fable as I interpret it, use the discussion questions to lead a conversation about the symbolic parallels, make connections to daily life, and get a glimpse of the inspiration behind the Modern Retellings series.

Modern Retellings for Everyday Life

[4] Aesop’s Fable: The Wolf and the Lamb

For a hardworking and caring person, the hardest lesson is learning that others may not be.

The Wolf of the Workplace

(in 2 minutes or less)

T was hired to work as a graphic designer for a big company and was excited to do whatever was necessary to succeed. T worked long hours in the office cubicle, submitting work files by email to M, the floor supervisor. T had never spoken to M, and that was okay because M was quick to anger and known to fire new employees for no reason at all.

After 4 weeks of handing in designs and following client briefs, M stormed into T’s cubicle. M was angry because T hadn’t asked for help completing any project and deemed T too new at graphic design to be working alone. M cautioned T that the job was at-will, meaning anyone could be fired anytime for any reason. T heard the message loud and clear.

T was fearful about losing the job, and nervous about being yelled at again, so they changed their approach to suit M. Every time a new client project was assigned, T immediately asked an experienced coworker how to complete the project. Each project took twice as long to complete, but T doing what M asked.

Two weeks after the first visit, M returned to T’s desk. Now, M was angry about T being away from the cubicle too often, bothering coworkers, and relying too heavily on the assistance of others. M said the completed work looked like the copied work of other designers, and that if T did not change tactics, they would be fired.

T was determined to get it right and to please M. In the next week, T balanced artistic vision with help from others. T took each client project, created a first draft, and then emailed coworkers to ask for feedback if they had time and were willing. This way, T couldn’t be accused of stealing work from others or accused of being too new to work alone. T felt the clients and M would be happy with the new strategy.

On the following Monday, T was summoned to M’s office. M angrily explained that no designer should be as flexible as T, that the company didn’t want a designer who was easy to push around. It made no sense to T, because they had done exactly what was asked and they were a skilled graphic designer. T was told to clean out their cubicle and go home. They were fired. M was a terrible supervisor with a mean streak and a bad attitude, and T was glad to be leaving.

A hungry, trickster wolf may appear to be trying to save the lamb from being eaten, but expect that wolf to eat that lamb, no matter what they say or do.

Photo by Steve on Pexels.com

Family Discussion Questions

Use these questions to help lead a conversation about the fable and its intended meaning.

  1. In the story of T and M, who is the lamb and who is the wolf? How do you know?
  2. What did “the wolf” want, before “the lamb” even began to work at the company?
  3. What does “eating the lamb” actually symbolize in the workplace?
  4. Could “the lamb” have done anything to keep working there?
  5. If you were “the lamb”, how would you feel after dealing with “the wolf” boss?
Suggested Answers:
  1. T is the lamb. M is the wolf. M is in control and threatening T’s job, and T is trying to please their boss M.
  2. “The Wolf” is known to get angry and fire employees for no reason. M creates a fearful office environment. M wants employees to be afraid and doesn’t seem to care about the design work at all.
  3. “Eating the lamb” symbolizes “firing a new employee, T” in this story.
  4. T could not have done anything to change M’s actions, and likely no change to T’s work would have been acceptable to M. But, in the modern workplace, there are other ways to deal with a difficult boss, and depending on the level of comprehension, the conversation can lead in this direction.
  5. There are no wrong answers. Examples might be: Sad or happy to be fired. Scared or nervous of the boss’ anger. Angry at being yelled at for no good reason or for not having hard work recognized.

Wolves in Our Daily Lives

It has taken me nearly three decades to learn that my choices are my own, and I cannot choose for another what they will not choose for themselves. As a child, I was eager to please every person with whom I connected, and that led to a lot of difficult situations surrounding the expectations of others and the expectations I had for myself. Not everyone would be a friend. Not everyone would be acting rationally, morally, or in a justifiable way. No amount of helping, teaching, explaining, or placating could mollify the wolfish way.

Sometimes people will ask the impossible to test boundaries or cause damage. Sometimes people will ask others to bend over backwards just to watch them break in half. Sometimes people sense a person’s weakness and immediately wish to exploit it, rather than adapt to it. Sometimes people choose cruelty over kindness.

For some, this went without saying. For do-gooder, people-pleaser, rationalizing logicians like me, the question of why people act badly towards others was constantly on my mind. I, and others like me, have trouble accepting that we cannot always understand the actions of others, and that people may act irrationally, cruelly, aggressively, and immorally for no reason at all, or for reasons we simply can’t know. If we have done our best, striven to be good, and are still faced with difficulty, we must move forward as best we can, ask for help if we need it, and leave the search for answers behind.

Photo by Kat Jayne on Pexels.com

What are your thoughts on Aesop’s The Wolf and The Lamb? 

Do you know any lambs or wolves in your life? What qualities do they have? How would you describe them?

Comment below, and with your permission, I may incorporate your thoughts into the next installment of the Modern Retellings series.

This is the 4th part in the Modern Retellings series. Catch up with the series:

Part 1 The Fox and the Briefcase
Part 2 The Snapchat Gnat
Part 3 Friendly, Feathered Competition

Why We Play Pool Every Week

My partner and I are busy working professionals, working nine to five while cultivating side hustles, keeping house, landscaping, staying fit, eating healthfully, and raising cats. We’re Busy. And yet, just about every week, we make time to head down to the local pool hall and play a few games. It keeps our relationship strong.

Basic Rules

[Skip to the next heading if you’re familiar with the basics. Or read on to read as I summarize a rule book in a couple of paragraphs. ]

If you’ve never played pool before, I’m going to give an amateur description of the game play and rules. One person racks, which means sets up the balls. The rack is a triangle formation of 10 balls, the 8 ball being the most important to keep in the center position. The other person will break using a cue stick, meaning attempt to hit the white cue ball into this formation, hard enough break up the balls, but not so hard the cue ball flies off the table. If the breaker gets one in, they’re entitled to aim the cue ball toward any other ball other than the 8 toward any pocket (that’s the cup or hole where the ball falls.) If the breaker doesn’t get one in on the break, or if they do and miss their second shot, the table is Open.

The racking person now has a chance to hit the cue ball into any (not the 8) ball they like. Once either person makes a shot in after the break, they will either be stripes or solids (or high ball/low ball based on the numbers on the ball), depending on which they got in. The players take turns, shooting until they miss, until all of their solids or stripes are in. Once the colored balls are in, the player can shoot on the 8.

If one accidently moves a ball, accidently sinks the cue ball, or does a number of other things, that’s a scratch. Other person can put the cue where ever they want behind the starting line to start their turn. If the 8 ball goes in out of order, as in before all of the solids or all of the stripes are in, game over, that player loses. My partner and I also call our shots, so if the ball goes into a pocket we made by mistake or didn’t announce ahead of time, lose a turn. And if the 8 ball goes into a pocket we didn’t call, game over, that’s losing. And if a player sinks the cue while missing the shot on the 8, that’s ball-in-hand, meaning the other person can set up the cue anywhere they like. If the first player scratches while sinking the 8, that’s game over, and how statistically I beat my partner most nights.

That’s probably good enough for background.

Partners & Competitors

It’s a game you can play alone, but it strengthens the partnership.

One thing we have consistently found is that we are excellent partners in life. We divide the chores. We plan with consideration. He help and trust each other without question. We are able to support one another through nearly every difficulty, and one of us is always able to take the lead in difficult moments to get us to where we need to be.

But we’re also incredibly competitive, and that’s not something that goes well with partnership typically. If we didn’t play pool, we would get overly supportive of one another, sappy, sweet, take each other too seriously, and generally miss out on the fun of competition. We love to compete, and pool gives us a way of doing it in a confined and specific way where no one is taking themselves too seriously.

In the past, we’ve also played in weekly leagues in doubles rounds. This is a different way of channeling both our partnership instinct and our need for competition. We’ve learned how to set each other up while defending against the other pair, how to support one another with the right praise at the right time, and we’re pretty unstoppable in most local doubles matches.

Trash Talk Motivates

On the off chance that either of us decides to trash talk the other in the fun spirit of competition, typically the receiver of the trashing rises to prove the other wrong. I’ve trashed my partner’s play many times with the idea of motivating him to shoot better- and I always regret it because of how quickly he proves me wrong.

Clearing the Mind

Meditation in Precision

No matter what has happened during the work day, we leave it at the door. (We’ve sat in the car outside the hall a number of times to vent before the play.) We have an unspoken agreement that we do not discuss work or other stressors during the game. First, it’s a game best played quietly and in a focused manner. The chatterer could throw either person off. Second, I have no desire to ruin my partner’s mood when I’ve had a bad workday and we’re in a relaxed setting. We need time to decompress away from the stressors, not around them.. Third, the simple act of lining up the cue, focusing the energy, creating a delicate force, and choosing the proper angles is meditative. During our most skilled games, we’re likely not talking much at all. The silence is sweet. We’re meditating in precise movements.

Geometry is Wild

It’s hard to deny how cool math and physics can be.

Those angles I mentioned? At first, as an amateur player, I saw the balls straight on. But I’ve never played a game with a clear straightaway shot on every turn. In the beginning, it was all defense. How can I hide this cue ball or make it more difficult at the very least? Then, as I developed skills, I started to see banks (hitting the ball against the side or rail of the table) and combinations (hitting one ball into another ball to knock it in.) My growing comfort and increasing finesse has led me to learning about how spin (English) on the cue can move the ball in otherwise seemingly impossible ways. My partner is working on Masse’ — curving the cue around something to his what he’s aiming at. The more we play, the more we see see the options, angles, and possibilities. We’re developing a kind of second sight. Geometry (seeing the angles) and physics (understanding force) are undeniably necessary and totally cool in this setting. And often, it is the lightest of touch that is needed- a lesson my partner and I both have absorbed over time.

Progress is Possible

The act of playing is practice enough to get comfortable.

Like with other things, the more we play, the better we get. And even if I’m having an off-night, not able to see straight or find the force I need, e.g., there is still the growing sensation that practice makes progress. Not every hobby has perceivable levels of difficulty on which to measure ability. In this game, the way we play, it’s not about winning and losing, it’s about shooting the shot.

Also Winning and Losing

We don’t keep an ongoing record, but it’s nice to win the night.

Despite what I said above, it’s also about winning and losing. Of course it is. My partner and I look at the game one shot at a time, and then a series of games at a time. We give praise freely for the great shots, but we don’t suffer the loss of the individual games. (My first game is always a practice game, unless I win, then it counts.) We play best of 5 or 7, and whoever loses buys dinner or drives home. The reward is irrelevant, but it adds a fun twist to our night. Then the next time we get to the table, usually the one who won will be sure to mention their greatest shot from the previous game. And it makes the one who lost all the more fired up to win this time around.

A Uniquely Individual Sport

How you play is how You play.

My bridge (how I balance the cue on my left hand to aim with my right) is strange. Most people balance their cue in between their thumb and forefinger, but me — I feel more comfortable shooting between my index and middle finger. I have long hands, and I feel I have more stability if I use my spidery fingers to this end. And at the pool hall, no one will ever give me any stress about not doing it “right”, whatever that means. Whether its how you stand, how you approach the table, your hand positions, your aim, the way you see the game, the kinds of shots you take or any other facet of the game — no one is ever going to stop you unless you’re breaking a specific rule. There’s no right or wrong way to play, at least not at this level, and there’s a freedom in developing style and technique in an expectation vacuum. It’s cathartic in a world that is typically full of people telling other people what to do and not to do. (Professionals have thoroughly developed techniques and thoughtfully considered approaches, but we’re just a couple of weeknight players.)

Help is Fine Too

If the game isn’t that serious, ask the question.

How many times have I asked my partner — not as a competitor but as a friend — what do you think I should do here? I respect the way he plays and his eye for the game, and sometimes, if I’m in a pickle between two options, I’ll ask him to step outside the game and look with me, as a teammate. Sometimes he’ll tell me that I don’t have a clear shot, because of how he left the table. Sometimes, he’ll weigh in specifically based on what he sees. And I don’t always take his advice. Sometimes, after he weighs in, I realize (like calling the coin flip in the air) that I’ve already made my decision. And since we play different games, different styles, different techniques — the respect is mutual. I don’t have to take his advice, but I’m free to ask it.

10 Lessons Learned

  1. Always shoot your shot and aim to shoot well.
  2. Respect your opponent as if they were yourself.
  3. Silence is golden.
  4. Meditation can be active.
  5. Try and see all the angles.
  6. A delicate hand beats a heavy hand most of the time.
  7. Practice makes progress.
  8. Mistakes are not setbacks.
  9. Schedule play dates, especially as an adult and leave your troubles at the door.
  10. Respect the rules and earn respect.

Find Your Table

It might not be pool.

The healthiest thing we’ve done as partners is add a competitive outlet to an otherwise supportive set-up. I can’t recommend enough that all partners do the same. Your thing might not be pool (we also love a few challenging board games for similar reasons) but whatever it is, your partnership outlet should be the following things:

  1. A medium where you feel both competitive and supportive of one another
  2. A forum that requires concentration, focus, or the honing of a skill
  3. An activity that can connect to other enjoyable aspects of life
  4. A hobby with delineated progress and achievement levels
  5. A fun, playful, enjoyable, not-too-serious time
  6. An equal balance of procedure and free choice
  7. A place either person can ask for or provide assistance
  8. Something you can laugh about together
  9. Something that can sweep you up in the moment
  10. Something that feels right for you both

How do you and your partner destress as a team and strengthen your skills?

How does game play enhance your life

Friendly Feathered Competition

[This is the 3rd part in the Modern Retellings series. Want to check out Part 1 The Fox and the Briefcase or Part 2 The Snapchat Gnat?]

Adapted from Aesop’s The Peacock and the Crane, may this retelling, in 2 minutes or less, enable a conversation about value and competition. After the story, see the moral of Aesop’s fable as I interpret it, read on to learn more about the intention of the Modern Retelling series, and share with me your thoughts or fable ideas.

Friendly, Feathered Competition

(in 2-min or less)

J & R had a friendly competition over everything — who could hit the most homeruns, who would get higher grades, who had the better phone . They both wanted to learn how to drive and to have a sporty, fast car, and boasted about who would be driving first. They passed their driving tests on the same day. When J got home with the new license, there was a brand new Crisio Peacock waiting in the driveway! J texted a picture to R right away — victory! No car could beat this! R had also received a car when arriving home from the test — a 2010 Clumper Crane, which would need some work. At school the next day, J bragged to R that the Peacock was so much nicer than the Crane. “It’s brand new, fast and sporty, not like yours!” R replied easily, “A fancy new car is great and all, but your insurance premiums must be super high and you’ll need to pay for high-octane gas. The Peacock also has the worst safety and crash test ratings on the market. My Crane will survive any accident, last me for years, the insurance will cost me almost nothing, and with the money I’m saving, I can customize it, paint it, and really make it my own.” A few weeks later, J drove into the lot with a crumpled bumper and a bruised ego, and was shocked to find that R’s Crane was detailed and gleaming with the best speaker system he’d ever seen. 

The Peacock’s feathers may be more brilliant and colorful, but the Crane knows that his dull gray feathers help him soar through the sky while the Peacock must remain on the ground, suffer the mud, and see those beautiful feathers grow dirty.

Photo by Vincent van Zalinge on Unsplash

Family Dialog

I suppose I am quite fortunate to have had parents who made dinner table conversation a priority. While a television played in the background, we’d discuss pieces of our days and catch up on topics of interest. I typically found myself in a way to criticize classmates or express exasperation at teachers- I was a bright, attentive kid, but difficult to challenge. How disappointing the world can be when you’re brilliant and bored — I was Sherlock without a case. I’d raise my hands at the table and expound, “Why do they have to do x like this? Wouldn’t it be better to do y instead?” There was no end to the frustration.

At this point, my father, utilizing the Socratic method, would begin asking me to think through decision trees and the potential motivations of others. While I could never be sure why someone had chosen a particular route, I could work out reasonings for deliberate choices that were made. (It wasn’t until much later I realized that not everyone makes deliberate choices. This was a facet of life that I learned from my mother — some of us swim with the current, some against, and some just allow the water to move us along.) This discussion method, Socratic questioning in particular, raised my empathetic awareness and has made me the person I am today.

I encourage you to open a dialog with loved ones. Use the fables as a starting place. Can you create another analogous, more modern adaptation of the Peacock and the Crane? Are there things that you covet that are not necessarily worth what they seem? Is there another fable or moral that stays with you, one that might be worth sharing with others? 

What are your thoughts on Aesop’s The Peacock and the Crane? 

Is there something you once coveted, but have since realized is not worth the price?

Is there any fable or story that made an impact on your empathy and the way you engage with the world? 

Comment below and with your permission, I may incorporate your thoughts into the next installment of the Modern Retellings series.

The Snapchat Gnat

[This is the 2nd part in the Modern Retellings series. ]

Adapted from Aesop’s The Gnat and The Bull, may this retelling, in 2 minutes or less, enable a conversation about community and ego. After the story, see the moral of the original fable as I interpret it, and read on to learn more about my intentions behind the Modern Retelling series.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The Snapchat Gnat

(…in 2 mins or less.)

There was a kid named Nat who posted on social media across many different platforms as often as possible. Nat thought that the opinions, takes, updates, and stories were adored by all and critical for everyone to hear. Despite maintaining a steady number of followers, Nat had very low engagement, hardly any likes, and few comments. One day, Nat’s favorite pic-share app was hacked, and the hacker began posting spam and ads on the account. They worried everyone would think they’d been the one posting, and they contacted the company to recover the account. After three days, Nat regained access, deleted all of the hacker’s posts, and sent out a message to the community of followers which read: “You probably noticed I got hacked, but don’t worry, I’ll be updating you soon on what shows I watched, what food I ate, where I’ve been, and what stores I’m recommending today.” Nat was fearful that their followers would be missing their insight or thinking Nat endorsed those products. Despite sending the message to over 800 people, Nat received only one message in reply. The message said simply, “I had no idea you were hacked, I muted your account months ago.” Nat then realized, after all the time he’d taken to share, he wasn’t really sharing with anyone.

The gnat who landed to rest and relax on the horn of a bull should not be surprised to find his presence made no difference to the bull whatsoever. We are often much more important and valued in our own eyes than in the eyes of others.

Photo by Min An on Pexels.com

Philosophically Intrigued

Many years ago, I led two philosophy circles based on The Socrates Café (a book by Christopher Phillips and also a movement of philosophical perspective-sharing which followed the book’s publishing). During our weekly meetings, the moderator (I, or another) would pose a philosophical question for Socratic inquiry. It might be something seemingly concrete or intentionally abstract — Why did the chicken cross the road? Which is stronger: love or hate? Should ethics be a mandatory subject in public school? etc. Then the group would take turns discussing, debating, posing new questions, and leading in new directions. The moderator might find new questions for the following week within the context of the dialogue, and after 2 hours or so, the group would disperse for coffee and donuts. It was a grand time. 

In the years since, I’ve found that my high school and college environments were not indicative of most, that philosophy was not encouraged so strongly among other groups, and that the basic tenets of debate and discussion were not understood among the masses. There was high interest to learn, however. I believe a great starting point for these types of philosophical discussions are Aesop’s fables — short stories incorporative of moral lessons, passed down over thousands of years, adapted across many cultures. For the modern, technologically advanced society we live in, I have translated these animal tales into hopefully more accessible, yet analogous stories. 

To read the first installment in the Modern Retellings series, click this link. 

Do you have thoughts about the original telling of the Gnat and the Bull? 

Is my retelling more accessible for the modern age? 

Do you believe this moral is an important one?

Can you create another analogy for this morally centered anecdote?

Please leave your thoughts in the comments below. 

The Fox and the Briefcase

I have always loved fables, fairy tales, myths and legends. I’m fascinated by characters that are meant to spark our imaginations, render us afraid, or sink into our hearts, especially if those characters can teach us absolute truths about the human condition.

Modern Retellings, 2 Mins or Less

Aesop’s Fables are well-known animal tales dating back thousands of years, passed down through the ages, which each hold a slice of wisdom and a commentary on morality. In recent years, I’ve found that the animalistic framing and farm-focused allusions aren’t necessarily accessible to every reader, and so the moral or point of the story can get lost. I’m hoping to change that in a series of posts (n=?) by drawing a parallel from the fable to our modern life, and summarizing what I see, or what is generally seen, as the moral or the philosophy of the story. I’ll keep each one short and sweet, ideally under 2 minutes, because I value the reader’s time and hope to challenge myself with brevity.

Photo by fotografierende on Pexels.com

The Fox and the Grapes or The Associate’s Goal

An associate at a law firm worked 80 hours a week for several years to achieve his associate status, but coveted a partnership in the firm. He put in extra hours whenever possible and built up a great reputation as a trial associate and a stellar brief writer. After 12 years of watching peers being promoted ahead of him and trying to be recognized as hard as he could, he quit working as a lawyer to focus on writing about interesting legal precedents he’d cited in court for years. Several of his works became best-sellers. He supposed all he ever wanted was to feel his time was valued, and even a partnership at a law firm couldn’t provide that.

The hungry fox who jumps in vain to reach a bunch of grapes hanging high out of reach eventually admits defeat, and with dignity acknowledges that the grapes are sour, not nearly as ripe as he thought.

Photo by Dmitry Demidov on Pexels.com

If you have thoughts about the Fox and the Grapes,

if you think I got the story wrong,

if you can think of a better modern allusion than the one I’ve drawn,

please share it with me.

I may incorporate commentary as a formal part of the series once it has developed fully.