Legos in the Elevator Shaft

I moved my desk at the bank from the Mezzanine to the third floor. The third floor is beautiful, but I didn’t want to go. And now that I am there, I still don’t want to go. I’ve sat on the Mezz for nearly 10 years and all 10 of those years I’ve sat next to Jim. Jim likes to pretend he doesn’t like me, but I know he does. (You know - as soon as you write something like that, you start to wonder if it’s true. You are just pretending – right Jim?)

Anyway, I’ll be 40 this summer. That means I’ve spent nearly a quarter of my life sitting at that desk, sitting next to Jim. It’s a great place to sit. You wouldn’t think so at first. There’s no office, no privacy, it’s completely out in the open. The desks are ancient, and the lighting is awful. But it allows me to see my customers as they come and go from the bank – and even more importantly, it allows me to throw pithy comments over my shoulder to Jim at any time throughout the day.

As Steve, our IT guy disassembled my computer I sat down at Jim’s desk, tears welling up in my eyes. Jim was on the phone so could only look at me with concern and helplessness until he finished his call. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he put down the phone, his voice full of fatherly concern. I pointed to Steve and my voice wavered. “It’s time. I’m moving.” My eyes spilled over and a big fat tear ran down my cheek. “Well it’s about time!” Jim quipped. “Goodbye!” and back to work he went.

This of course broke the spell and made me laugh; something Jim has always been able to do. “But won’t you miss me?” I whined. “No, not really. Now, don’t you have any work to do?” Maybe I am a glutton for punishment, but I love this sort of abuse from Jim. His sharp, quick wit has kept me chuckling for 10 years. But it’s not just Jim. There’s a lot of camaraderie that exists between the lenders as we all sit there in the open together. We are a team. We are friends. And that, more than anything else, was what I didn’t want to leave.

But it was moving day, so I found a cart and loaded it up with all the stuff that was sitting on top of my desk. Among “all the stuff” was my Lego job description. A lot of people have job descriptions, but I am willing to bet not many have a Lego sculpture of their job.

I did, and I was really proud of it. I built it a couple of years ago as part of a strategic planning retreat and I’ve had it sitting on my desk ever since. I’ve always liked it because, although I didn’t realize it at the time, I’d built something that so accurately represented the many facets of my work life, as to be uncanny.

The sculpture looks like this…..

There is a little guy wearing a crash helmet that sits on a rotating pedestal in the middle of the sculpture. Not only does the little guy spin around, but also he has arms that extend from his base with wheels that spin on each arm. The whole thing is in motion, and represents all the plates I have to keep spinning in order for my job as a lender to work. But if any of the wheels start spinning too fast, they fly off the pedestal. Just like in real life.

Also, there is a bridge from the little guy that extends out to the side. There used to be another little guy that sat at the end of the bridge. He had crazy, wild hair that stood straight up on his head and his pedestal was built with brightly colored pieces. That part represented my responsibility for Marketing and all the fun, crazy things I got to do in that part of my job. But if you put even a tiny bit of pressure on the little guy with wild hair, the entire sculpture would topple over. About a year ago, the little guy with wild hair just disappeared. I never knew what happened to him, but realized later that he disappeared about the time I hired a Director of Marketing and had to let go of much of what I had considered “my baby”. (See what I mean about it being uncanny?)

When I envisioned my new office (a thought that was never pleasant), I always saw my Lego sculpture sitting on the credenza. So when I began packing up my desk, it was one of the first things I took.

Anyway, like I said, I loaded up this cart with all my stuff and took the elevator up to the third floor. As I was pushing the cart off the elevator, a wheel caught on the threshold and the cart tipped precariously. This caused the folders and notebooks I’d balanced on top to slide off, crushing my Lego sculpture in the process. The Lego pieces spilled over the edge of the cart onto the floor, and …. I kid you not….fell into the tiny space just in front of the elevator….. and down into the elevator shaft.

I’ve now told several people this story, and the universal response has been out and out laughter, but laughter was not my response in that moment. Instead, I burst into tears.

This little sculpture, which had seemed almost magical for the last several years, had just broken into 30 pieces and half of them had fallen into the elevator shaft. As I looked at the remaining pieces that lay strewn on the floor, it was clear that my fear about this move had been well founded. My “job” lay in shambles. The little guy in the crash helmet, being nowhere in sight, had presumably fallen three stories to his death. This couldn’t be good.

So I moped and was teary eyed, and generally played doomsday scenarios in my mind until finally I had the good sense to go talk to my friend Julie about it. Julie was in the process of cleaning her office (two floors down) with the help of a woman who specialized in energetic healing. I’d never met this woman before, and began to blurt out my story without even introducing myself.

Julie and I laughed about it, and then I cried again, and then this woman, whose name was Pat, asked if she could share some insight with me. I readily agreed and she started by asking why I was so upset about moving to the third floor. I explained that I was sad and scared about being separated from my team. Only a few of us are moving, the others are staying on the mezz. I think our sitting together is very important and I fear that this separation will break down the sense of teamwork we feel.

Pat listened carefully and then began to explain that the Lego sculpture represented the past and that its’ destruction was indeed symbolic. Not symbolic of a doomed career as the result of the move however, but rather, symbolic of my needing to leave the past behind. She assured me that what happened had not been a coincidence, but an indication that it was time for me to embrace my future, my fresh new life in the new space. She said I had to let go of my attachment to the past (the mezz) in order for my new life to begin. She also said that I was a leader, an influencer, and that my work with the people who were remaining on the mezz was done. She said it was time for me to turn my attention to the team I would be working with on the third floor.

You know, I believe in the sort of energy stuff she practices, but even if I didn’t, you have to admit what she says makes a whole lot of sense – right? (Jim is rolling his eyes right now) Yes! It does. It was probably also NOT a coincidence that she just happened to be in Julie’s office on the day this all happened.

So that’s how I am going to play this. I wish my team could stay together, but at the moment, we can’t. So I am going to break with the past and take this move on as a fresh start, a new adventure. My work on the mezz is done. My work on the 3rd floor is just beginning. And all is as it should be.

Thanks Pat. (Goodbye Jim – you old fart!)