The ocean does not dream of you.
The ocean does not dream of you.
A metal and meta mantra for tough times.
Fellow squares, back me up: It’s hard to feel cool enough for a liquor store. The dazzling array of choices pairs nicely with an acute awareness of your inexperience. Even if you are well-initiated to the normal alcoholic suspects, can you remember the names of the others? Can you pronounce them? (Please see chartreuse).
Perhaps it’s the fear of being carded by the more-expert-than-I staff, which should have gone away after more than a decade of legally purchasing potables, but there you go. Somehow, I struggle through. 🫡
Recently, I stopped into the liquor store to pick up a gift. (Fun fact: The chain is called “Gall and Gall”. The gall of the Dutch to name it this.) And this time, fear be damned! I knew exactly what I wanted. I stepped up to the counter and asked for it with confidence.
As the clerk handed me the bottle, I spied the tattoo. Spanning the entire length of his forearm, in dark block capital letters, it read:
THE OCEAN DOES NOT DREAM OF YOU.
Friends, I have completely forgotten what I bought that day. But I have thought about that tattoo at least a dozen times.
And yes, the dedication of an entire newsletter to a stranger’s tattoo may be proving the point indeed about being cool enough to exist in a liquor store, but we’re here now. So we will struggle through.
The ocean does not dream of you is the metal and meta mantra we need for this season of layoffs, recessions, and viral firings.
Let’s say you’re a sailor. Your work, your livelihood, and most of your life, is on the ocean. You know how to read the waves and how to navigate the currents.
Still, for how much you learn about the water, it doesn’t learn anything about you. Hoping to catch a sunrise swim on a flat sea? The sea doesn’t care.
Waxing romantic about the feeling of smallness you get in the deep blue depths? The deep blue depths will not poeticise or even remember you.
If you think this take is too metal, please, go talk to an Ocean Person. If you have an Ocean Person in your life (Diehard kitesurfer, talented diver, hopefully licensed boat captain. etc), you know that they all have at least one Ocean Story.
The Ocean Story is their personal evidence that the ocean is metal.
These stories often go like this:
“Yes, one time we saw sharks swimming around a crashed boat we were helping rescue, because they were attracted to the drowning electronics.”
“Oh yeah, this scar is from when I got wrecked into the reef while surfing last week. I couldn’t breathe for like ten minutes. When I got back on shore, I sat still for awhile.”
“One time, I was diving/spearfishing and I caught a huge fish. I had about 15 seconds of air left when I was coming back up with it, when I saw a gigantic shark. I decided he probably wanted the fish more than me, so, I left it for him and swam back up.”
It is important to note that they aren’t blaming the ocean in these stories.
The Ocean People are simply testifying to the ocean being what it is, which is fucking metal.
And yet, they still surf and sail and swim and spearfish. The ocean doesn’t need to dream of them. Respectful coexistence is enough.
The workplace doesn’t dream of you.
It doesn’t matter how nice your manager is, or how much you like or respect your CEO, or even how good you are at your job. The workplace itself is an ocean - vast, unpredictable, uncontrollable.
Yet, the person sailing this ocean is you.
Much of Nice Work is about what WE can do to improve our working lives, like breaking the hierarchy we have over others, how to stay committed and consistent, and, if necessary, telling someone to go to hell.
You can’t fight the ocean, which is why we don’t write pieces like, “How to leave THAT meeting with your job intact,” or “How to get your CEO to change business models,” or even “How to recession-proof your role (tip: Offer to lower your salary).” It won’t work. It’ll just leave you exhausted and demotivated, because the ocean doesn’t dream of you.
I can see why this take might seem too metal (or dark, or depressing, or capitalist-apologetic). But it’s less about what’s good or bad, and more about what’s true.
The truth is:
The workplace doesn’t dream of you. How freeing.
How nice to be able to consider work just as it is. How much easier to plan for calm and stormy seas.
PS. I’d love to hear from you about the metal, unhelpful-at-the-time-but-now-super-helpful, or otherwise unpopular advice you’ve gotten about work. What would you get tattooed on everyone’s arm so they couldn’t ever forget it?
(I’m thinking it would go in the wrist region so even if you’re in a sweater, you could still still it while typing.)
Kindly,
Rachel
\m/
The free market does not dream of you.
Some leaders of huge companies might dream of you sometimes.
More heads of mid-sized companies dream of you more often.
If you’re part of their small team, entrepreneurs likely dream of you.