Clark Kenting

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Two men get ready to leave the same house.

It’s 7:00 AM on a Monday as Mike Ralls, Government Contract Manager, puts on his business slacks and light grey Brooks Brothers dress shirt. He tucks his shirt into his pants, and then loosens it to the exact amount of appropriate slackness. His tie loops around his neck, goes in a standard knot, and is cinched until it looks straight and sharp. Mike checks himself in the mirror and likes what he sees; it is a man whose image is cultivated to professionalism. He is good to go.

It’s 7:00 PM on a Friday as JR Ralls, gamer, throws on a heavily stained college t-shirt, a pair of jeans that are older than his marriage, and his favorite pair of sneakers. He didn’t put a single conscious thought into his outfit. Every article of clothing was picked based upon some unconscious desire to wear the familiar and the comfortable. JR doesn’t pause to check himself in a mirror as he leaves. Instead, he begins to munch on something crunchy and fried as he walks out the door. This is a night for indulgence.

Mike Ralls arrives at his new place of work; he turns off his car and the business audio book he was listening to gives him a final word of advice before going silent. Mike recently moved 3,000 miles. It was a necessary move, but was still a shift that caused him to lose all of the social capital he had built up over the last decade of his professional life. His new job is not only in a different part of the country, but also in an entirely different field. Some part of Mike relishes the challenge of learning something new. Some part fears it. But every bit of him is determined. He’s a family man now. People depend upon him. He has a written agenda for the action points he plans to accomplish in his first 90 days. Mike knows that first impressions are important and is actively rehearsing the best methods to greet new colleagues as he exits his car.

JR Ralls arrives at a Game Night he found on Meetup. He recently moved 3,000 miles and hasn’t made a single friend in his new city, yet. He keeps in touch with his old friends via text or Facebook, but it’s just not the same. The physical world is too important to ever be fully replaced by the online one.

While JR loves his wife and kids, he still needs the occasional break from them. He hasn’t had one in months. But tonight is his night. No responsibilities. No deadlines. No expectations. JR is relishing the opportunity to just geek-out for a while. He listens to a couple of the top 100 songs from 1971 as he drives to Game Night. He’s in the process of listening to the top Billboard songs from the 1940’s to the present in chronological order. It’s the type of weird project JR likes to take on. The only thing he is thinking about when he leaves his car is whether he likes Old Elvis more than Young Elvis. (He does.)

Mike Ralls walks into the door with his head held high and a confident look in his eyes. He greets the receptionist. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Britney. I’m Mike Ralls, the new Government Contract Manager.” He uses a voice that is deeper and crisper than his everyday voice. Britney shows him around. The office has all the florescent lighting and cubicles he could ever want. Mike is introduced to about 20 people in a five-minute time period. Mike has never been good with names. He’ll try to remember them all but knows it will take a while.

JR Ralls walks into what he thinks is the right house. He sees someone walking and gives them a head-nod greeting. “Hey man, is this where Game Night is being held?” It is. “Cool.” He walks in with a few of his favorite board games balanced on top of each other along, with a box of donuts as the proverbial cherry on top. This is probably the biggest game night he has been to. He meets tons of people. He’s not even going to try and remember them all at this point. He sits down for a game of Puerto Rico and starts playing. The groups needs two more players and a set of identical twins end up joining the game. That won’t be confusing at all. They introduce themselves. JR responds, “S’up Brook n’ Britney. I’m JR. Y’all want a donut?”

Mike Ralls has a good first week at work. His desk has a certain amount of stark despair:

But within a couple of days he accumulates an appropriate amount of office clutter. The job itself is rather solitary, as Mike’s work is not directly connected to the rest of the team. Still, he does need some help, and simple social interactions have him make some polite chit chat with most of the other employees, including the receptionist, Britney. Most of their interaction with each other consists of him asking her to mail something or get him some supplies and her doing what he asks. He tries to always be polite when he requests her to do something but, while he’s not her boss, he’s also not her co-worker either. He’s a 38-year old manager and she’s a 20-year old receptionist. At the end of his first work week, he walks over to her desk and says in his crisp voice, “Britney, this needs to be in Raleigh by Monday at 2:00 PM. Please give me the tracking numbers when you get it done, OK?”

At JR's second time at Game Night he is trying to decide whom to throw in the volcano. He makes his move and pushes one of his opponent's pieces to its fiery demise. He turns and looks at her with a predator’s smile, “Never trust a Sicilian when death is on the line!” She’s doesn’t get the reference. Ouch. That made him feel old. But really, why would a 20-year old get that reference? JR and Britney have a nice little conversation about movies and games and other geeky matters in-between turns. It’s nothing deep but it’s nice enough.

Mike’s second week at work is much the same as his first. He has more contracts, more e-mails, more tasks, and he feels like he’s starting to get into the flow-space. He’s still isolated from the rest of the workforce, and that probably won’t change. On his average day, he walks in the door, gives a quick nod, starts answering e-mails and making phone calls and filling out forms, and then the next thing he knows it’s time to rush home and start making dinner for the kids. He hasn’t even eaten lunch with anyone yet. Nods, requests, polite chit-chat, and then back to his desk to try to make that day’s deadline. He gave himself a new buzz cut on Friday. Nobody noticed or mentioned it, not that he expected them to. He nods at the receptionist as he leaves for the weekend.

JR walks into his third game night with a freshly buzzed head and starts chatting with the host. He hears someone behind him, “I knew I knew you! You’re Mike!” He turns around to look at a young 20-year old woman and something in his mind goes click. “Britney?” JR/Mike asks.

It is the same Britney as from work. JR/Mike had been interacting with Britney at three separate game nights and two weeks of work before either had recognized the other as the same person they had been seeing in a different context.

“Why’d you say your name was JR?” she asks.

I talk with her about how my legal name is Michael Ralls II and how, when I was young, I went by JR. But when I started writing short-stories and making movies I didn’t want the first thing every employer googled about me was www.darkdungeonsthemovie.com , so I reverted to JR Ralls as my not-very-hidden pen name. Since that was how I was known in geek circles, it just became the name I’d use among my fellow nerds.

“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!” Britney says.

I can though. A similar thing happened at another job I had, for the exact same reasons.

The jokes about Superman’s glasses being a horrible disguise have been a tired cliché since the 1950’s, but we really do see the person we expect to see more than we see people as they are.

Mike trying to get a quote from a vendor in order to get an IPS contract submitted on time does not use the same tone of voice as JR trying to make a funny Monty Python reference. They don’t use the same verbiage. They don’t even have the same body language. It’s not surprising that they can be seen as different people.

A change in posture, a different outfit, or choosing different words when speaking can make gamer JR and contract-manager Mike register in other people’s minds as different men for different places. But in the end, there is someone – the same someone – beneath both of those personas. It can just take him a while to shine through.

Comments

The jokes about Superman’s glasses being a horrible disguise have been a tired cliché since the 1950’s, but we really do see the person we expect to see more than we see people as they are.

Well-played, great article! Don't worry, your secret is safe with us.

This is probably why I'm not super-successful at adulting—I'm always wearing the black-framed glasses (and jeans and sneakers). But after 36 years on earth I've never had to wear a tie to work, so it's a fair trade.

Ha!

I'm an academic. I pretty much have exactly the same persona when teaching as I do when gaming. Ok, I try to done down the pedantry a little bit (maybe not enough?) when I'm hanging out, but otherwise.. yeah, same dude.

I never realized civilians had it so hard.

Hey, as a architect, I can't walk into a building without analyzing it. And the wife tries to tell me to stop every time. I certainly have some differences between work and not, but that part just seems to be a part of who i am now. It's the same with a lot of architects I know.

garion333 wrote:

Ha!

I am curious for indulgence upon this comment.

mrtomaytohead wrote:

Hey, as a architect, I can't walk into a building without analyzing it. And the wife tries to tell me to stop every time. I certainly have some differences between work and not, but that part just seems to be a part of who i am now. It's the same with a lot of architects I know.

Remind me never to be in the same car as an architect while crossing a bridge. Or perhaps that would be a good idea. Any time I drive over a bridge I try not to think about the whole thing crumbling beneath my car and the sh*tty plummet to the water below in a multi-tonne death machine.

ccesarano wrote:
garion333 wrote:

Ha!

I am curious for indulgence upon this comment.

mrtomaytohead wrote:

Hey, as a architect, I can't walk into a building without analyzing it. And the wife tries to tell me to stop every time. I certainly have some differences between work and not, but that part just seems to be a part of who i am now. It's the same with a lot of architects I know.

Remind me never to be in the same car as an architect while crossing a bridge. Or perhaps that would be a good idea. Any time I drive over a bridge I try not to think about the whole thing crumbling beneath my car and the sh*tty plummet to the water below in a multi-tonne death machine.

But what a cool way to go!

Great article. Living between two worlds. But didn't Egon say, "Never cross the streams"? Good stuff.

ccesarano wrote:

multi-tonne death machine.

Best band name.

ccesarano wrote:
mrtomaytohead wrote:

Hey, as a architect, I can't walk into a building without analyzing it. And the wife tries to tell me to stop every time. I certainly have some differences between work and not, but that part just seems to be a part of who i am now. It's the same with a lot of architects I know.

Remind me never to be in the same car as an architect while crossing a bridge. Or perhaps that would be a good idea. Any time I drive over a bridge I try not to think about the whole thing crumbling beneath my car and the sh*tty plummet to the water below in a multi-tonne death machine.

An engineer, I am not. The structural integrity of a bridge is beyond my comprehension, and I typically don't take notice of bridges unless they're interestingly different. On the other hand, I do tend to notice all those rotting, rusting steel beams on overpasses, but I think that's a result of that one bridge collapse and the follow up articles over the sad state of bridges and general infrastructure in the USA.

But let me assure you, in my area, it seems every single concrete block (aka CMU / cinder block) building from the late 60's / early 70's I've seen never had any of the designed reinforcing placed in the open cells. They all continued to stand despite the fact they didn't meet the design requirements. The (half-joking) explanation: habit.

Now, if you want to talk bridge terror stories, you don't even have to include vehicles, and look here.

I'm a doctor. My persona outside of work is absolutely nothing like it is at work and I prefer to keep it that way. Dr. LarryC is an authoritative, decisive, and commanding persona. It'd be tiresome to have to live like that 24/7. Having said that, I do rely on more than just a pair of glasses, so the idea that Supes just has a pair of glasses isn't really true. He wears his hair differently, carries himself differently, and dressed differently. It's not just the glasses.

LarryC wrote:

I'm a doctor. My persona outside of work is absolutely nothing like it is at work and I prefer to keep it that way. Dr. LarryC is an authoritative, decisive, and commanding persona. It'd be tiresome to have to live like that 24/7. Having said that, I do rely on more than just a pair of glasses, so the idea that Supes just has a pair of glasses isn't really true. He wears his hair differently, carries himself differently, and dressed differently. It's not just the glasses.

I've heard that Superman also talks with a New York/Metropolis accent and that Clark Kent talks with a Kansas accent.

The idea of work/life separation ("separation," not "balance") is usually important to those of us in Generation X, but I don't think other generations feel the same way as often. Would you characterize yourself as Gen X?

beeporama wrote:

The idea of work/life separation ("separation," not "balance") is usually important to those of us in Generation X, but I don't think other generations feel the same way as often. Would you characterize yourself as Gen X?

Yep!

Pretty firmly, too, at least according to Strauss and Howe generational theory https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Straus... which I have some problems with but find quite interesting and intriguing as well.

Mind you, whenever I read articles about Millennials on the internet I think, "Who are these aliens?" but whenever I interact with them on a real-life basis and talk about their lives I think, "Man, being young hasn't changed a bit."

How positive I am about the possibility of real human interaction with people at my workplace depends largely on how much sleep and caffeine I've had recently.

I don't normally mind meeting or interacting with colleagues from my workplace, but I don't want them interacting with me in my official capacity. I have to maintain certain qualities when I'm at work. Wouldn't want to be at work when I don't have to. For instance, I can't swear or have various reactions when I'm at work. I have limited ways to speculate, and I'm limited to mainly talking about medical stuff. My speech could be considered therapeutic or diagnostic - my talking is itself part of the treatment. It's tiring. It's more tiring than social interaction in general.

So while I'm squarely in "Gen X," the reason I keep my personas separate is mainly because the professional persona exists mainly to provide a service.

I used to do this, keep my work identity separate from my personal one, but I stopped maybe 5 years ago.
I don't like the feeling of pretending I'm someone I'm not.
And maybe because I'm not a manager, or manager level. Maybe it's because I'm part of that millennial age bracket (albeit on the leading edge) but it's never been an issue. Some of my co-workers get it, some don't, but even those that don't, don't hold my gaming against me.

Maybe it's because I'm part of that snake person age bracket

(Apologies if my plugin changed your wording, and apologies for picking your phrase as the point to launch into this.)

I work with folks from a wide range of ages, and I think lumping people into buckets based on their birth year is nonsense at best. The majority of folks I've worked with who are younger than me are more old-fashioned in their demeanor and more conservative in their approach to the workplace than anyone else I work with. Very few people from any age group are actually as reflective, exciting and thoughtfully opinionated as the stereotypes flung at the latest crop of "kids these days," and that holds as much now as it did when magazines were painting all young adults as Kurt Cobain, or as Bob Dylan, or as Buddy Holly.

Generational labels also seem to be more vague and ridiculous this day and age. For example, I was actually speaking with my brother about this as he is in the generation often referred to as Gen X. I'm not. The question is whether I'm a Gen Y or a Millennial (or Snake Person, as Wordsmythe's browser will no doubt correct (and make redundant)). When looking into this, I've seen other generations thrown in there as well. It's a total mish-mash of people wanting to differentiate themselves favorably, and ultimately it comes down to older folks insisting the younger generation is somehow worse.

I think, in time, there will be a way to mark the generation after Gen X, and I think Scott Pilgrim vs. The World will be a time capsule of that generation. Marked by my own bias, certainly, but given the various characters in various work and life situations, it just seems applicable to me and deals with a lot of the trials of growing up (in a sh*tty economy) that people had to face leaving College during a recession.

Generational labels are bit like class, in that any boundary is going to be some-what arbitrary.

Is someone born in 1981 Generation X or Millenial? Is someone making $40,000 a year in the US Middle Class or Not? Both answers depend entirely upon HOW you are defining those groups, and it's very easy to argue about where the line should be.

And of course, groups are groups and individuals are individuals.

If you take 1,000 random people born between 1943–1960 and 1,000 random people born between 1961–1981, and poll them on a host of issues from work-life balance, to food, to movies, to politics, and then tabulate the responses and remove the labels. Just by looking at the averages it will be very easy to see which group is Boomers and which group is Gen X.

BUT, if you just take 1 random person from each generation and poll them on the same issues, just by looking at the results stripped of the birth year you will not be able to tell which poll result comes from which generation.

Taharka wrote:

I used to do this, keep my work identity separate from my personal one, but I stopped maybe 5 years ago.
I don't like the feeling of pretending I'm someone I'm not.

Part of the point of the article, which I may have failed to get across, was that "Work Mike" isn't me pretending to be something I'm not. He's just as much part of "me" just as "Gamer JR" is.