Now, standing in a pile of shards where a glass house once stood, I can't remember who threw the first stone. Maybe it was me. Maybe not. It doesn't matter. The stone-throwing got so intense that I forgot why they were being thrown to begin with. Oh, yeah. I remember. I was pointing my finger at others and accusing them of things for which I was equally, if not more, guilty. For every stone I threw, a bigger one came back at me. I felt justified in my accusations and victimized by the criticism of others. Dishing it out came naturally and felt righteous. Taking it seemed unnatural and felt unfair. Just because I lived in a glass house didn't mean I wanted others to see through me. Or did I? Mi Casa Es Su Casa Are you living in a glass house? Are you accusing your I-Boss of things that you can just as easily be convicted of? These are not easy questions. Nor are they questions we routinely ask ourselves. That's why I'm asking you now. Things that annoy us about others are often characteristics we possess. Our own flaws are especially irritating when they show up in someone else's words and actions. Our own flaws are almost indescribably irritating when they show up in the words and actions of someone with power and authority over us. Now that my glass house has been shattered, I'm able to write about false confidence, false security, and false pride. I know them all. Somewhere in the beginning, my wires were crossed. If not at birth, soon thereafter. Was it nature or nurture? Genetics or environment? It doesn't matter. Now I pray daily for the serenity to accept the nature and the courage to change the nurture. Like the prayer says, wisdom is the ability to distinguish between the two. All selfactualization aside, I can't help but be a little disturbed and perturbed that nobody explained these distinctions to me until I had already messed up a major portion of my life. But, that is blaming. I might as well bend over and pick up another rock.

Recovery is a Test in Itself

Who or what pulls your trigger or tends to set you off? If you pause and think about your pet peeves or things that cause you discomfort, you are compiling a laundry list of personal issues that need addressing. This is especially true in your professional affairs. Your chances of stopping people in positions of power and authority from pulling your triggers are next to nil. You have a far greater chance of removing or disarming your internal triggers, thereby diminishing the likelihood that your I-Boss or coworkers will upset you. Consciously disarming your triggers is the best way to build immunity to aggravation. What do you care how much power an idiot has as long as he doesn't use it to annoy you? Reducing your I-Boss's ability to annoy you, whether he does it intentionally or unintentionally, is a tremendous form of self-empowerment. And no one can take it away from you. Dealing with a trigger puller "My name is John and I'm an idiot," I tell the group in the big tilefloored room in the church basement. "Hi, John," the chorus responds between swigs of coffee. Some say it clearly, as if to welcome me. Others mumble, as if speaking unintelligibly will mask the fact that they're present. "I used to think that my glass house was the perfect place to live," I continue. "Speak up," one of the mumblers spouts, suddenly very articulate. "We can't hear you." Annoyed by the interruption, my instincts tell me to attack him with a toxic mixture of sarcasm and innuendo, impugning his intelligence and, should I be sufficiently irritated, his ancestry. That's what we do, those of us who consider ourselves super smart, orbiting high above the stupidity. We impugn other people's intelligence—especially after we've been caught doing something stupid. But that would be my disease talking. That's why it's called recovery. At least now I can catch myself before I throw the stone. Most of the time anyway. I still instinctively bend over to pick up stones and formulate poison blow dart questions such as, "Did someone forget his medication this morning?" But now I can regain control before opening my mouth and letting it fly. In that moment, when the stone would have been en route to its target, the truth floods over me like acid rain, eating away my pretenses. I was mumbling. Guilty as charged. If I'm at a meeting of recovering idiots, trying to get beyond the thoughts and behaviors that have imprisoned my personal and professional potential all of these years, why am I mumbling? The acid burns away another layer and I decide to share my stream of consciousness with the group. "I learned that living in a glass house is not a good idea if you're going to throw stones." "How original," Mr. Mumbles blurts. I quickly pick up another stone and suck in some additional oxygen, not to calm myself, but to have enough breath support to achieve maximum volume. That's when I notice the others are glaring at him. "Don't interrupt," a woman scolds. "You know the rules." "Yeah," I think to myself. "What she said." I feel relieved, comforted, and protected. Somebody stood up for me. Somebody cared. Instantly, the anger begins to drain from my body and I feel a tinge of compassion for Mr. Mumbles. He slumps back in his metal folding chair and picks at the edge of his Styrofoam coffee cup. When I feel like someone is on my side and cares about my right to occupy space in the universe, toxic thoughts dissipate, and in their place are curiosities about how others came to be the way they are. I even begin to wonder how I came to be the way I am. Your Idiot Boss needs to feel that someone is on his side, in his corner, and has his back. Never forget that you and your Idiot Boss are both human beings. He will have the same basic responses to feelings and situations you do. This is important because, when you feel unsupported or even undermined, you tend to grasp tighter, fight more intensely, become more suspicious. Your Idiot Boss does the same. Find ways to support your Idiot Boss, especially in his times of uncertainty and doubt. When you do, he will feel as I did when the woman spoke up against my detractor at the recovery meeting. I had a new best friend. Recall how you felt when someone spoke up or took up for you. You can engender the same feeling within your boss towards you. Try it and feel the tension evaporate. Send an encouraging e-mail, mention in the hallway how well you thought he handled a situation. Keep it all in the context of the department's goals and objectives so as not to seem syrupy.

Watch for Signs Your I-Boss is on the Mend

If you consider your boss an idiot, yet you notice him exercising restraint, you might consider changing your diagnosis. An out-of-control idiot will never consider the big picture of how his management pronouncements and edicts will affect the lives of others. If your boss appears to be giving any conscious thought to the consequences of his actions or how lie managed to get into his current condition, listen, pay attention, and try to notice clues that he is undergoing some type of self-improvement initiative. If he is, encourage him. He needs all the support he can get. I went on to share with the group how I learned to receive in kind what I am willing to give—good or bad. Getting back some measure of the good I give is an "iffy" proposition. Sometimes it happens. Sometimes it doesn't. Regardless, I've learned it's best to do good anyway. Having been raised a German Lutheran in the doctrine of the worm I feel guilty if good things happen to me for no reason. If I send out goodness, I feel more comfortable with the good that comes back to me. Nevertheless, I still resent it when nothing good comes my way. Lurking beneath my recovery are the remnants of my selfish inner worm. Everything, all the time, just because I'm here. That's what I want. And so does your boss. Would it hurt to pretend a little? I'm not suggesting you kiss up or go along just to get along. I'm more mercenary than that. I suggest going along to get whatever you can. In the murky world of office politics, resisting what your I-Boss wants might give you a moment's satisfaction as you thwart his will and expectations. But it doesn't buy you anything on your long-term wish list, assuming your wish list includes more respect and acknowledgement around the workplace, a raise, or a promotion.

That's a Mirror, Not a Window

Before I stepped across that line between active idiocy and recovery, I didn't understand that seeing other people as nincompoops was actually a self-indictment. I didn't necessarily want my boss to stop being an idiot. I wanted to be the Alpha Idiot. I didn't really want to stop him from antagonizing me with impunity. I wanted the power to antagonize others with impunity. I wasn't on a mission to create a kinder, gentler workplace. I coveted the power to make lives miserable. When I first realized that other people could see me for the idiot I am, I felt naked. Worse, I felt as if I had been living a naked dream for most of my life without knowing it. It is embarrassing to reflect upon, but what can I do about it now? Get comfortable with my nakedness, I guess. That or stitch together some fig leaves. Building another glass house with thicker walls won't help. There will always be big enough rocks to shatter them. I can write about being an idiot from a position of knowledge because I fell into the trap. More accurately, I skipped down the road to hell following the siren's song of success. Back then, success meant having the freedom to do whatever I wanted to do, whenever I wanted to do it, and having unlimited resources. I also wanted complete anonymity on demand, no accountability for anything I might choose to do, and I wanted all of the above without lifting a finger to make it all possible. I wanted to be a hybrid of William Randolph Hearst, Jr., Howard Hughes, Donald Trump, and Ted Kennedy. I wanted the proverbial silver spoon. Just because I'm in recovery doesn't mean I don't still secretly want all of those things. What has changed is my attitude toward them. I can now accept that I will never live like any of the aforementioned silver spooners. Better yet, I can be grateful for the things I have. If I ever achieve anything remotely close to the financial status those guys enjoy(ed), it will result from my efforts and the grace of my Higher Power. I could always win the lottery. But that's my disease butting in again. As a recovering idiot, I live a happier, more peaceful, and satisfied life. Despite how messed up I allowed my past to be, I still have time to live a large and enlightened future.