False Impressions

"They're fake," I murmured upon closer examination. "Pretty, but pseudo-flowers." I was involved with upper level meetings today and subsequently had access to the nicest of the meeting rooms. I had gone to get coffee and wondered how the white flowers stayed so fresh and lovely.

"They're not real," I told a colleague when she came to get coffee too.

"No," she replied, not looking surprised. "Sometimes they change them though." I nodded and tried to decide whether or not I was offended by the lack of fresh flowers. I looked at them again and decided they worked quite well, finished stirring cream in my coffee and returned to the conference room.

"I have to leave early," I said to Adam and Bailey this afternoon. "I'm meeting with a fence guy. I need a fence for my dog," I elaborated when they looked confused. I made a face at Bailey when she rolled her eyes at me and covered a couple points with Adam. He nodded and wished me luck with the fence. Before I went too far, I heard Bailey tell him she had a hamster funeral tomorrow and wouldn't be in until noon. I turned around, laughed with them and returned Bailey's wave before walking out into the sunshine. I'm comfortable there - when they make jokes, I know they're sometimes related to me, but not at my expense.

The same was not true in my post-doc. I therefore took offense at playful remarks. It was never that I didn't want to contribute. But when the slides I made weren't included in presentations, when my attempts to guide projects were rebuffed, I continued to withdraw.
I avoided meetings because I felt I hadn't been good at my job. And I didn't like feeling that way. And while I did get frustrated, I never would have refused a sincere request for help.

I therefore sighed when my reply to an email this afternoon was met with abject gratitude. If I had something people at my former institution needed - even if I did glare at the specific person sometimes in meetings because I thought he was a jackass who purposely excluded people - of course, I can give it to them. Did they really think I'd pitch a fit and refuse? And, if so, how did I make them think that? So I spent some time gathering information and sending emails this evening after doing much the same all day, albeit for a different purpose.

The issue with how I'll be remembered at my postdoctoral institution mirrors how I feel about the flowers. Is either ideal? Probably not. Does it really matter? Not so much. Or at least I hope that's the case.