When I was a kid, I loved the Fisher-Price Little People. I had the farm, house, Sesame Street, A-Frame and house boat, just to name a few. All of these sets were inherited from my brother, Jeremy, and were well-worn with more than a few missing parts. I pieced things together, not questioning why Grover was housed in the barn and why the houseboat had a horse wearing a lifejacket. I was happy with what I had and played with these mismatched sets nearly every day.

That was until Christmas 1984 when Santa Claus brought me a brand-spanking new Little People Camper set. It was perfect. Every piece intact, all stickers firmly secured, colors bright and fresh. The wheels on the Jeep rolled evenly and not one of the little people had a tooth mark in his/her head. I vowed to not lose a piece and keep the set in pristine condition.

And I did. When I’d finish playing every evening, I’d place the picnic table, lawn chairs and grill inside the storage case, place all four family members in their Jeep seats, folded up the camper, placed the storage container on top the camper, the boat on top the jeep and the motorcycle on the tongue. 30 years later, my mom pulled this set out of her attic for my boys to play with and every single piece was intact.

The weirdest part is that’s just the beginning of my obsession with order and perfection as a child. I have, and still play, my childhood Clue, Monopoly, Sorry, Payday, Life and Mouse Trap games all in original boxes and not one piece missing. Not one missing Clue weapon. Not one Sorry pawn misplaced. All original dice still in rolling condition. To this day I play these games with my boys and I still put everything back into the box just as it was when first opened in the early 80’s.

While my mom saved many of my toys, I distinctly remember only caring about the items that remained in pristine condition. I was so obsessed with making sure things remained like-new that when something broke or a piece went missing, I promptly lost interest. I clearly remember an instance where my beagle puppy, Jackie, chewed up some plastic grapes that were part of a larger set of play food. Once that piece of the set was destroyed I rarely touched the apple, orange, milk bottle, butter or bread.

I got to thinking about this childhood obsession with perfection because Harry recently had a meltdown when a piece from one of his Lego sets was broken. Initially I realized it was my way of having control over my world as a kid. I couldn’t stop my dad from smoking or determine what time we’d eat dinner, but I could make certain I didn’t lose a piece of my Monopoly game. But then it dawned on me how this behavior has shaded my career choices. Funny, this HR sabbatical has me thinking more about my HR career than when I was in the throes of it every day.

Like most people I appreciate when things are fresh and new and I find great pleasure in keeping things in pure condition. So when I start a new job I find it invigorating. A fresh email inbox, a desktop that’s not filed with files and fresh notebooks full of promise are enough to keep me excited about going to work. Add to that meeting new people and learning about a new industry and I’m over the moon. It’s like unboxing a new toy—I’m building the foundation for a long tenure and have yet to make a single mistake or even a slight misstep.

I’ve approached every new role I’ve taken on with overwhelming, almost blind, optimism. With momentum on my side, I hit the ground running, aiming to make an immediate impact. I quickly hone in on all the positive aspects of the company and befriend coworkers to show me the ropes. My enthusiasm in full force, I annoy my friends and family with non-stop talk about how lucky I am to have found a great new job. Most of this is convincing myself I’ve made a good decision and I’m finally in the role I’ve been working towards.

But inevitably things start to go south. I have a disagreement with a coworker who clearly doesn’t have my best interest at heart. A vendor I want to work with reveals that I have to pay upfront because my new employer has a bad habit of sitting on invoices. I piss off a good-old-boy executive because I speak up in a meeting. My notebook starts to have scribbled out pages and tattered edges. I accidentally discover a procedure or practice that I find morally questionable.

Once the luster of newness has worn off, I realize I’m stuck with yet another imperfect situation. And just like when Jackie chewed up the grapes, once I’ve seen the bad I’m not all that interested in the good. Even if the apple, butter and bread are all really great aspects of an organization, my mind fixates on the negative of those gnawed on grapes and I’m once again thinking about what better opportunities may be out there.

Just like Little People had to evolve from the choking hazards of the 1970’s to the over-produced current version, it’s time for me to evolve my approach to work. Sure, every circumstance is going to have challenges and aspects that are imperfect. Rather than cringe at this, I will embrace it and piece together parts I can get excited about just like I did with Jeremy’s hand-me-downs.

Weirdly, I have fonder memories playing with Big Bird in the A-frame than than when I was worrying about keeping that camper set quarantined and in pristine condition. I certainly felt more creative, less encumbered and greater freedom when I wasn’t concerned with maintaining perfection. Sure, it’s cool that I have all of those pieces 35 years later, but wasn’t the point to enjoy them as a child? Wouldn’t I have gotten more benefit from relaxing a bit and seeing where my imagination would take me? That’s precisely what I plan to do moving forward with my career.

And as I really consider what I want my next chapter to look like, I do not see myself residing in the Fisher-Price Little People cubicle farm. I think I am more suited to work with companies on a short term. Whether that means though freelance storytelling or recruitment consulting, the place I can add the most value is by offering fresh eyes and a new perspective, but knowing I will only be around to complete a specific project or assist in solving one problem.

If you, or anybody you know, could use help with storytelling or recruitment, please shoot me an email at mollie@midlifepickle.com. Also, I’d love to hear more about your career trajectory. Have you been in the same role for years or have you recently started something new? How do you reconcile the good and bad aspects of the organization?

Based in Northern Kentucky, Midlife Pickle is a blog by Mollie Bentley exploring the shock that she is smack dab in the middle of life.

Jul 7 Little People: Did Fisher-Price Ruin My Career?

Based in Northern Kentucky, Midlife Pickle is a blog by Mollie Bentley exploring the shock that she is smack dab in the middle of life.

Jul 7 Little People: Did Fisher-Price Ruin My Career?

Jul 8 Momentum

Jul 1 Week Eight - Here Comes the Sun