In the 1980s, when I was asking myself “what’s missing?” in my career as a business writer, I took the Johnson O’Connor aptitude tests to try to discover what job would be a better match for my skills and interests.
In one of the tests, I was asked to study a card that contained illustrations of several ordinary objects like keys and cutlery. What was missing for me as I stared at that card was any interest in what I was looking at — the illustrations were bland and the objects were sooooo mundane. After a while, I was shown another card that contained all the same objects but one, and I was asked “What’s missing?”
While I could definitely see the blank spot where something was missing, I could not, for the life of me, remember what was missing. While I’m a pretty observant person, that skill of identifying a missing mundane object was definitely missing for me.
The testers at Johnson O’Connor explained that what would be missing for me in my life because of this inability to identify missing ordinary objects would be minimal, as long as I didn’t become a medical doctor (I’d be missing many diagnoses of physical changes). I notice this inability to remember what’s missing when I pass by an empty store front on a familiar route and I struggle to remember what used to be there (unless I have specific, personal memories of the place).
I acutely feel and remember what’s missing where human beings and animals are concerned, and those were definitely missing on the Johnson O’Connor cards of ordinary objects.
What’s missing for me at work this week is a sense of familiarity and comfort with the hospital operating software. What’s missing also is my faith in myself to adapt to this major change and return to my usual sense of satisfaction and fulfillment in my current job as a psychotherapist.
What’s missing from my 7-year-old laptop is the ability to run the new hospital software when I am working from home, so I went to the Apple Store yesterday during lunch to get a new laptop. When I got back to work I noticed what was missing from my new Apple Air — the power cord.
I wondered if I somehow lost it on my walk between the Apple Store and work. What’s often missing for me is trust that situations like these — when I may be the one at fault — will work out. When I returned to the store and explained that the power cord was missing, they gladly gave me another one.
What’s missing in my life right now also includes the need to prepare for my show of original songs, which took up so much of my attention for months.
What’s missing in today’s blog?
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As usual, the Daily Bitch has an interesting perspective on what’s missing.
In case, like me, you have trouble identifying what’s missing, I’ll tell you what’s missing from today’s blog. Because I was so exhausted from my day at work, I fell asleep before I could ask my last question of the day on Twitter. That’s the first time in many years that question was missing from my daily Twitter posts. I wonder if anybody noticed that was missing.
Here’s what I find when I search YouTube for “what’s missing?”
Thanks to David McRaney and his talk on survivorship bias, I’m more aware of the importance of what we are all missing.
What’s never missing in these blog posts is my gratitude for YOU!
HI Ann, I was trying to leave this comment on your post today- I like your leader image, although what is missing is you singing! Instead, it shows the back of Michael’s and my head! It was a wonderful show!! But it won’t seem to go through, so it’s also something missing today! Kathy
It’s actually not missing and thanks for being there, my good friend!
I bet your frequent commenters will have noticed the absence of your “last question” and might be worrying about you this very moment! (That’s not a scolding for falling asleep and missing it—clearly you needed the sleep—rather a sign that people “out there” care about you!)
What a hassle to need an extra trip to the Apple store for a missing piece, and I’m glad it was remedied simply.
You don’t miss much, Debbie!
LOL, Daily Bitch. I was recently writing about the few things I remember from Junior High School, and one of them was a substitute science teacher who filled her hour with stories of spontaneous combustion. Have never forgotten the image of the oil spot left on the little old lady’s rocking chair.
More to the point, *I* noticed your question was missing. Always check for it just before I pack it in for the day. Also comforting to note that when something is missing, the first finger you point is at yourself. I do too, and I think that’s a good thing. Keeps us from blaming others. Right now, I’m missing a puzzle piece – as in, I can’t find the damn thing. But then, I haven’t looked at every one of the somewhat more than 1,000 pieces left to find. Sigh.
Thanks for being here, Barbara, because your comments are not to be missed.
I’m glad that they gave you the needed power cord.
I’m glad you’re here, Maureen. 💕
I missed your blog yesterday. Whenever I miss it, because it happens so rarely, it weighs on me. I always hope you’re happy and doing well but it’s your blog that reassures me of that.
The feelings are mutual, Chris.
what’s missing is your confidence, in yourself, and the universe, and the knowledge that everything will work out in the end. i know you’ll get your mojo back, and then nothing will be missing, except perhaps, what i failed to notice was missing. )
Nothing is missing when you’re here, beth.