Public Service Week

I’ve never been a fan of scheduled recognition. I prefer to be recognized for my professional efforts as they happen, i.e., more often than during one week per year. However, I appreciate the gesture put forth by the employer to celebrate all public servants during a few days in June. We civil servants continue with daily operations, of course, but sprinkled among budget meetings and Sharepoint headaches are “fun” events like casual Friday and the branch Chili Cookoff.

Though I accept the sentiment behind such events, I don’t usually attend them. Big groups intimidate me even if I know everyone in them. Heck, even if I’m related to everyone in a group larger than six, I’m inclined to decline. So on the day of the Public Service Week potluck some years ago, I stayed at my desk while everyone else went down to the second floor boardroom.

In due course, one of my colleagues returned. “Ruthie, you missed the presentation!”

I thought nothing of it; just shrugged and replied that someone has to mind the phones.

Colleague #2 appeared after a few minutes. “Where were you? You missed the presentation!”

This happened a couple more times. Finally, I asked, “What presentation?” and someone answered, “The years-of-service awards. Your name was called, but you weren’t there.”

Blanch. “I don’t even know how many years of service I have!”

Just then the division Director rounded the corner. “There you are! You’d better get downstairs. The ADM is waiting for you.”

Great; just great. The Assistant Deputy Minister, who always happened upon me at the precise moment when I was either saying or doing something utterly moronic, had been stood up because of my aversion to office gatherings.

So, I hustled down to the second floor, where our volunteer staff photographer heralded my arrival with, “Ruthie! You missed the presentation!”

Yeah, yeah yeah, I’m here now, let’s get this over with. Aloud, I apologized to the ADM, who then presented me with my ten-plus-five years of service pins and a letter of gratitude/congratulation. “Fifteen years,” he observed as he handed me the letter. “You started at the same time I did.”

“Really?” I asked, panicked into making small talk with a man who doubtless considered me a bit of a goof. “You mean if I’d tried harder, I could have been you?”

Career-limiting comment, right? Nah. That was two ADMs ago ... and I’m still here!