Lessons in Disappointment By Proxy

Musings From a Day With Trash Views and Shit Outcomes

I’ve been fortunate in life, not in the monetary sense (unfortunately), but in the little successes that have stacked up over the years. From recreation to profession, I’ve somehow managed to succeed at most things I’ve tried. Whether it was captaining sports teams, snagging the first chair position in musical endeavors, or excelling in work, I’ve found almost straight success in most shots I’ve taken.

Some of those successes were well deserved, some were luck, others I’ll never understand. If there was a job I wanted, I just went and got that job. If there was a promotion available, I just went and got that promotion. Perhaps it’s just my way with words, or perhaps I’ve just placed myself in environments where I knew I’d succeed.

Quietly, I don’t do well with mediocrity, though I openly pride myself on being professionally average. In the dark recesses of my core, I don’t like to fail. I never need to be the best, but I certainly refuse not to be GOOD.

Shhhh, don’t tell anyone.

I’ve also been known to surround myself with those who are, arguably, the best in their respective fields. I delight in high-caliber humans. If I’ve gifted you my time, it’s likely because you are exceptional in some way. Those in my bubble tend to be, overall, successful.

That all being said, life is full of successes that happen between disappointments. That’s a reality for all of us. Though I’ve had some major wins in life, I’ve certainly had my share of downright shit outcomes. Let’s not even discuss my health shortcomings or my marriage-success-rate, because - yeeeeesh.

Sometimes, though, the weight of disappointment isn’t even our own. It’s a secondhand emotion. I’ve found myself struggling with disappointment on behalf of someone else, watching as their incredible efforts go unrewarded. What’s worse is that while I simmer in frustration for them, they somehow manage to take the high ground, brushing off my interpretation of injustice with a grace I can only envy.

It’s a humbling experience, feeling anger on someone else’s behalf while they rise above it, seemingly unscathed. Their quiet strength forces me to question whether my frustration is even warranted or if perhaps they’ve tapped into a wisdom that I’m still grasping to understand.

The reality is this:

Disappointment has a way of worming into our lives, uninvited, like a damn barn cat. She wanders in and refuses to leave, tearing into our trash and shitting in our garden. She’s there, lingering, a little gross, and thoroughly inconvenient. But if I’m honest, I have to admit she teaches us something, not always what we’d like to learn, but something nonetheless.

The Pinnacle of Disappointing Locations

✧⋄⋆⋅The Workplace⋅⋆⋄✧

Oh, the hallowed ground of hustle and heartbreak. I’ve always been welcomed at whatever desk I’ve sat. I’ve never been passed over for a promotion, and I’ve certainly never been fired. I’m beyond fortunate that in my current position, I do feel appreciated, and my work is often praised.

But I’ve also witnessed firsthand the harsh inequities of the professional world. I’ve watched some of the most passionate, hardest-working people be let go while the cocklebur in everyone’s sock gets hoisted up the ladder. I’ve seen those who consistently “forget” deadlines (but never a happy hour) snag promotions they didn’t earn, often thanks to a hierarchy that rewards sound over substance.

Companies have a knack for wringing every ounce of effort from their kindest, hardest workers. It’s a frustrating paradox: those who work the hardest are often expected to keep doing so, while those who avoid the extra load are rewarded by never having to lift it in the first place. The business world doesn’t exactly run on fairness.

Trust me, I know it’s easy to let this breed bitterness, to start believing that life rewards the cunning while trampling the kind and hardworking. Bitter is a flavor I often let linger in my mouth.

And yet, here’s the rub: kindness and effort aren’t supposed to be transactional. They’re investments, but not in the stock-market sense. The returns aren’t measured in raises or accolades. The payoff is subtler, like the quiet satisfaction of knowing that you didn’t turn into a dick in the process of climbing the ladder. You stood with integrity at the bottom and made sure the ladder didn’t fall for the benefit of everyone. That is valuable in ways the corner office can’t measure.

That being said, my bank account will attest to how little I know of investments.

When it comes down to it, when life doesn’t hand us what we think we deserve, we’re really forced to ask ourselves some tough questions.

Why do we work hard?

For praise? For promotion? For accolades and bragging rights?

Or because we actually give a damn about doing things well?

If it’s the latter, congratulations. You’ve found a purpose more durable than approval from people who wouldn’t recognize integrity if it bit them on their clean-pocketed Wranglers.

Moral? I prefer Morels.

Ok, the moral here, as much as I hate to spell it out, is that what really matters isn’t how others treat you but how you treat others. Yessss, I know that sounds like something your grandmother cross-stitched into a pillow. But the truth of it sneaks up on you, especially in moments when you feel invisible or unappreciated.

Kindness, empathy, and hard work are their own rewards, not because they’re noble but because they make you resilient in a world that often feels indifferent. You can’t control how others behave or how others perform, but you can control the way you show up, even when no one is watching, especially if no one appreciates it.

Disappointment may be unavoidable, but it’s not undefeated. You can let it harden you, or you can let it refine you.

If you go the path of refinement, you might just find the view from the moral high ground is actually better than the view at the top of the ladder.

I, however, am not there yet.

This is a “do-as-I-say-and-mind-your-own-business-when-it-comes-to-what-I-do” prose.

I am hardened, for now. I will sit with my secondhand disappointment today, even if those most directly affected seem unfazed and resilient. I will stew on it for them, those deserving of so much more, who continue to ask for nothing in return or recognition. Once I’m done, I’ll hopefully join them at that moral high place that seems, for now, out of reach for me.

Because while I sit in this place, disgruntled at the trash in my lawn and the shit in my garden,

those directly affected are still working just as hard,

enjoying the view,

and not cleaning up after someone else’s stupid fucking metaphorical barn cat.

God, I hate that damn cat.