It’s Always Gonna be Painful
Excellence asks things of you, and it takes things from you without asking. “There’s always a trade-off” people say--usually the people who are looking for a reason not to barter. But the quippy phrase has roots of gospel truth. Saying “yes” does mean saying “no”... and “not right now”... and maybe “never.” A skinny trail is tough to walk along without losing equilibrium. To traverse it means to be willing to live with burrs in your boots.
In the FX series, The Bear, creator Christopher Storer explores the steep and hazardous arc of the pursuit of excellence. Through the tales of a way dysfunctional family, a cast of full but deeply flawed characters, and a restaurant intent on being special for more than its impeccable food, he masterfully reveals the sloped and viscid, convoluted curve that leads to distinction. A bow that regularly chews up tryers and spits them out like sunflower seeds.
During the final season, Storer and his team inspect the unique tugs on working mothers.
Sugar, a member of the maladaptive Berzatto family and CFO of the restaurant, The Bear, has returned to work after giving birth to her first child, and the restaurant is on its last shaky, splintering leg. Alone in her office, she begins to slowly come undone, the tangled threads of her mercilessly slipping out of her hands. Chef Tina, a slightly older mother who works because she must but also because she loves to, walks by the office and notices Sugar slumped over her desk, quietly crying. Tina ducks in, grabs a chair and asks, tenderly, “What’s going on?”
Sug, too tired and terrified to try to make it pretty, transparently details the pieces of jagged glass she’s sitting on.
“Well, if this place dies,” she whisper-sobs, “I will feel like I have wasted a lot of time.” Then nodding as if the two are members of a secret club, “Because my daughter is asleep when I get home and I have to wake her up to say goodbye when I leave in the morning.” She looks at the floor, “And I can’t remember the last time I had five minutes of alone time with my husband. . .”
Sug continues listing the ends that don’t meet. “Signs” that any sane person would recognize. “Signs” that tell her she should walk away. No, “signs” that tell her she should run, when Tina interrupts. “Sug,” she says with the authoritative voice of one who’s lived it, “It’s always gonna be painful.” She stretches and lingers on the vowel. “That’s the truth, I’m sorry.”
The experienced chef goes on itemizing what the world has to say about and to working mothers. Truths that are simultaneously lies if you tilt your head just so. Then with resolution she tells her what she knows, “Your daughter doesn’t care that you are ambitious. Your baby just wants to look at your face.” The words bounce as if riding bareback, “But if your face is always sad-- because you’re home and not doing the thing that you love, what baby’s gonna want to look at that face?”
Oof. The tension line of excellence. It asks for all of you.
Distinction isn’t handed out like stickers at a voting precinct. It’s earned by making choices when neither A nor B seems to be ideal. The only way to dance along this risky road is to be aware of what you’re trading and to be at peace with why.
P.S. All That You Dream