Pappettan on Territory

Some problems do not announce themselves clearly. They arrive wearing the face of something else entirely.

A friend came to meet us one afternoon. He looked distracted. The kind of distracted that has nothing to do with where he is and everything to do with where his mind is.

I asked him what was wrong.

He said his manager had given him a new responsibility at work. A significant one.

Me: That is good news.

Friend: nodding slowly Yes.

Me: So why do you look like that?

Friend: A week later, my manager sent someone else in.

Me: For what?

Friend: To help me. That is what my manager said.

Me: genuinely confused And?

Friend: Why do I need help?

There was a pause. Pappettan, who had been listening quietly the whole time, set down his cup.

Pappettan: Did he help?

Friend: caught off guard Well. Yes. A little.

Pappettan: Did your manager take the work away from you?

Friend: No.

Pappettan: Did your responsibility change?

Friend: No.

Pappettan: quietly Then what exactly did you lose?

My friend opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

Pappettan: Your manager gave you a responsibility. You accepted it. You worked on it. So far so good.

He paused.

Pappettan: Then you built a fence around it.

Friend: A fence?

Pappettan: An invisible one. Nobody asked you to build it. Nobody approved it. Nobody else could even see it. But it felt very real to you.

He leaned forward slightly.

Pappettan: And here is the thing. You built that fence because you cared. You took the work seriously. You put yourself into it. That is not a bad thing. That is actually a good thing.

My friend looked up.

Pappettan: But somewhere along the way, caring about the work became protecting the work. And protecting the work became protecting the territory. And nobody told you when that shift happened. It just did. Quietly. Without you noticing.

He picked up his cup.

Pappettan: So when that person walked in, he did not touch your responsibility. Your manager did not take anything from you. But someone crossed your fence. A fence only you could see. And you felt robbed.

A long pause.

Pappettan: You cannot be robbed of a fence that only you could see.

I had no answer. Neither did my friend.

Here is the thing about work. Some things are given to you. The task. The deadline. The accountability. You can point to all of them. Someone handed them to you on a specific day.

But territory is different. Nobody gives you territory. You build it yourself. Quietly. Without asking. Without announcing. And because you built it with genuine care, it feels just as real as everything else.

Until someone walks through it.

And then you realise. The fence was yours. You built it. Nobody else could see it. Nobody else even knew it was there.

But it hurt just as much when someone walked through it.

That is the strange thing about invisible fences. They cause very real pain. And most of us go home that evening not knowing why we feel the way we feel. We know we are hurt. We just cannot explain it. Because how do you explain a fence that was never on any map.