How to strike fear into the hearts of your anxiety-ridden employees: ask them to share a fun fact about their life. Bonus XP if you make them chronicle their life's journey and list three fun facts, put them all in a PowerPoint and present in front of the whole team.
Such was the predicament I faced last week Friday at work - which btw no longer encompasses inhaling cleaning fluid, serving tea and checking toilet bowls for skid marks (knock on wood). For some reason the other designers at the telecommunications company I work for thought giving one member of the team every week about twenty minutes to chart their course in life would be a good team building exercise. And it has been, to be fair. Murdered pets and celebrity run-ins are exactly the kind of bonding ingredients I expect for true long-lasting friendship.
But the relief was staggering nonetheless, when my presentation got cancelled because none of the directors were in but the sun however, was well and truly out so we figured we'd have drinks at one of the bars near the office instead. Just further proof that my evacuation game is fated and solid as a rock. Public speaking, 0. Karina, 1000.
And yet, in spite of my aforementioned relief, naturally I'm also excited to dazzle them with Kruger-inspired visuals and fun-fact gamification. And yes, I do amaze even myself with my ability to flip between bathing in the proverbial spotlight and recoiling in pain and fear at even the faintest sight of it. Last week's cancellation has curried suspense and anticipation in the office in a most appropriate fashion for this closet narcissist: it was neither self-initiated nor forgettable.
But beneath the graphic design and flawless structure, injecting my photo work into my presentation as illustrative material has had me pondering the ideologies of the "exhibitionist photographer" and the difference between publishing pictures online versus showing visual manifestations of an instance of your psyche to a living breathing audience in your immediate vicinity. A belated juvenile fascination but my current headspace, nonetheless.
K.
Such was the predicament I faced last week Friday at work - which btw no longer encompasses inhaling cleaning fluid, serving tea and checking toilet bowls for skid marks (knock on wood). For some reason the other designers at the telecommunications company I work for thought giving one member of the team every week about twenty minutes to chart their course in life would be a good team building exercise. And it has been, to be fair. Murdered pets and celebrity run-ins are exactly the kind of bonding ingredients I expect for true long-lasting friendship.
But the relief was staggering nonetheless, when my presentation got cancelled because none of the directors were in but the sun however, was well and truly out so we figured we'd have drinks at one of the bars near the office instead. Just further proof that my evacuation game is fated and solid as a rock. Public speaking, 0. Karina, 1000.
And yet, in spite of my aforementioned relief, naturally I'm also excited to dazzle them with Kruger-inspired visuals and fun-fact gamification. And yes, I do amaze even myself with my ability to flip between bathing in the proverbial spotlight and recoiling in pain and fear at even the faintest sight of it. Last week's cancellation has curried suspense and anticipation in the office in a most appropriate fashion for this closet narcissist: it was neither self-initiated nor forgettable.
But beneath the graphic design and flawless structure, injecting my photo work into my presentation as illustrative material has had me pondering the ideologies of the "exhibitionist photographer" and the difference between publishing pictures online versus showing visual manifestations of an instance of your psyche to a living breathing audience in your immediate vicinity. A belated juvenile fascination but my current headspace, nonetheless.
K.
