After weeks of back and forth around a joint presentation, the CEO of the company we were in talks with left. Suddenly, there’s a new boss, a new team, and the whole process starts from scratch. I smiled when I saw the email. I don’t think my slides will go to waste. They can be amusing, the tides of time and business.
In German, when we do work that ends up being futile, we say it’s “for the cat.” The expression might go back to a fable about a blacksmith who, willing to accept any payment, tries to feed his cat with the mere “Thanks!” from his customers. Soon, the cat starves, and the blacksmith is forced to charge fixed prices like everyone else.
Frustration is the easy choice when we fear our work might have been for the cat, but the truth is we rarely know in the moment. It’s too soon to tell. Sometimes, working for the cat can be a blessing. What if the project just didn’t sit right? When it feels off from the beginning, perhaps our starving cat took a bullet in our stead.
When you’re happy to be here, ultimately, nothing is for the cat. You show up, try to help out, and whoever is the recipient of your generosity will be glad to receive it at the time. Sometimes in life, we get something for nothing—so at other times, we must do something for nothing in return. Trust fate to figure it out for you, and, in the meantime, don’t worry if no one thanks you for it.
