"You're working too hard."
The first time, Gabe heard that, he thought his co-workers were joking. By the third time, he'd figured it out.
As the new member of the team, he had thought he should prove himself, show that he didn't take the job for granted, and reassure the others that he was willing to pull his own weight.
What he now knew was when they said he was working too hard, they meant it.
He was on a team that wasn't dedicated to excellence or empowerment any of the other fancy-schmancy terms tossed out by visiting execs. They were into comfort. A co-worker whose performance was far above the norm might cause outsiders - the guys upstairs - to start asking pesky questions.
The team didn't like questions.
Questions might lead to change and change, no matter how you looked at it, would upset the arrangement. They didn't give the bosses grief, the bosses didn't give them grief, they all did just enough work to keep the higher-ups off of their bosses's backs and everyone was happy.
The way the team members figured it, their bosses did the same thing. The nature of the work might be different, but the goal was always the same:
Keep the fire warm, the food plentiful, and the predators away.
Gabe didn't understand now, but they assured him that in a few years he'd see what they meant.
They were right.
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