Dawn. Few things, if any, compete for attention and succeed, as sleep does. Oh, there might be one thing — it’s what Carnegie calls a craving for a feeling of importance. The want of we, human beings, to feel considered and appreciated around others. Not that food couldn’t have fit, as it would have, better in the preceding sentence, but let’s try to not go there.
I’ve been struggling with something since my PC’s screen lit. I’m stuck. “Someone’s shared a thought on this by now,” I think, making a hopeful effort to check for reply on the issue I’m straining my mind at. Someone took their time, I realize, to give to give suggestions that could help. Yes! There’s a sensation that comes along with this notice; it’s on the margins of feeling considered — I am not sure — but it’s likable.
A reply takes hold of my time — some minutes will pass, I own, before I’m in awareness. I recover from my absorption with a trailing trailing thought of ‘ …wouldn’t mind spending time on that again.’ So what’s absorbing about the message? I look at it a second time and say, audibly perhaps, next time someone requests me for help, I wan’t to be able to deliver it in this form.
A peek at the user name tag confirms the author — John Wayodi — the sole user-name I’ve seen on the team channel, include a full name. The suggestion he offers are given in steps. It’s lengthy, but what’s more memorable, it’s readable and easy to follow through.
The syntax is, I own, specific. The code statements for ‘do this’ are in a different colour from the rest of the message reply. Have you, before, had fun, following someone’s advise? Two minutes into this, and I’m thinking that would be the name to give to whatever I happen to be doing. I see more than five counts of quotes from the code I had requested support for — “took his own time to actually read this?” Maybe I’m overwhelmed — I don’t know — it’s the first time I’ve requested for remote assistance and it, with some element of little surprise, turns out to show more consideration than I’d have expected.
Suggestions followed; edits confirmed. Run. Fail. I feel important — the kind of feeling that would, I dare say, compete with sleep. If that’s not the tag for considerate, in a team remember, I wouldn’t know.
Have I felt important in this team again? Difficult to tell. Okay, I’m kidding. Within a frame of forty eight recent hours I was sited next to the first person to engage me in conversation. The tag was, should I remember, “What important in boot-camp week one?” Andela-best-practices comes up. She pulls me along an interesting caveat of GitHub best-practices. Naming commits, branches and giving descriptions to Pull requests. It’s new information — it’s a lot really.
“Imagine it’s not much”, she makes an effortful say at fighting my thought.
At this point, it shows, and a look can tell, that I am uneasy.
“But you’ve been following this already, right?”, she asks. I smile with a no. I’m scared. I hoping it’s never strange if these memories should revolve about being on the receiving side of help.