Who doesn't know them? The teachers in jeans and parkas who never grew up and who raise our children to be the same wimps they themselves are? We remember them from our own school days. You could steal horses with them. But you didn't learn anything. And then there were the others. Dressed differently. Cloth pants with shirts or strict suits. They were the uncomfortable and strict ones who made life difficult for us. They set limits and put obstacles in our way that we had to overcome. Somehow we hated and loved them at the same time. Our strategies for shirking work didn't work with them. They didn't let themselves be sweet-talked or talked into letting us off the hook when we hadn't done our homework.
It was a given that we had to make up for what we had missed. There was no thank you for that. What there was, was a telling-off and a compensatory task for our disrespectful trampling. Who? The teacher? No, ourselves. Not doing your job? Cheating on exams? For these "tough guys," it was clear: we had betrayed ourselves. The wimps, on the other hand, lamented: "You have all the freedom you want with me. How could you betray me like that?" We see the difference:
The inconvenient ones were concerned about us, about our development.
Those who always wanted to be "everybody's darling" were only interested in themselves. They wanted to be the center of attention, to be adored, and to feel important. We learned lessons for life from the tough ones, but wasted our lives with the others.
Did you have a favorite subject? One that you immersed yourself in, invested your free time in, one where you didn't just go through the motions? Then perhaps you were once able to amaze your teacher, maybe even outdo him in terms of subject knowledge. How did he react? Did they sulk like an offended liver sausage, or did they rejoice in your breakthrough and want to cross intellectual swords with you on equal terms? Surprisingly, it wasn't the "softie" who rejoiced with you and for you. It was the other one who appreciated your success. The "tough guy," the one to whom your development meant 1,000 times more than any popularity.
In the company, you have no chance of recognizing the two guys by their clothes.
No one comes cycling along with their guitar on their back because they want to sing their heart out with their colleagues in the meadow after work. Suits make people look uniform. But only visually. Sometimes their posture gives it away. But as soon as a leader opens leader mouth, you know for sure what type of person you're dealing with: the "know-it-all" in plain clothes or the seriously dressed "do-gooder"?
leader who want to make a difference primarily inspire people. Of course, they are aware of their importance. But they put their ego aside for the greater good. They are not interested in being adored by others and liked for the fact that it is harder for them to say no than to indulge in socially romantic fantasies. They are always working to improve themselves and make others greater so that they can become the best they can be. They want strong people around them, not yes-men and average types who make them seem greater than they are. Their "yes" is a gift, their "no" is a law. For the good of the whole.
Acceptance and rejection
Proximity is therefore always a form of recognition. Distance implies rejection. This has a lasting impact on human relationships. Who else uses this principle? Donald Trump. First criticism, then high praise – during his meeting with British Prime Minister Theresa May, Trump sent mixed signals to many. Behind this behavior lie these two extremes: proximity and distance. The interplay between these two extremes seems to work like magic.
That's why you're not really happy.
Why success and fulfillment have nothing to do with each other.
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