The one who lets the rest carry it

Every workplace has the move, and you've watched someone pull it. The order ticket that somehow always lands on someone else's station. The nurse who vanishes when the call lights stack up. The guy on the crew who finds a reason to be elsewhere whenever the heavy lift comes. The teammate whose name is on the project but never on the late nights. Whatever the trade, there's a way to be present and still let the rest of the body do the lifting.

Marcus Aurelius had a hard image for it. "If thou didst ever see a hand cut off, or a foot, or a head, lying anywhere apart from the rest of the body, such does a man make himself, as far as he can, who is not content with what happens, and separates himself from others, or does anything unsocial" (Meditations 8.34, Long). The shirker isn't getting away with something. He's a hand lying on the floor, severed from the only thing that gave it purpose.

That's the week's move, named on day one: carry your share. Not because a manager is counting, but because the work is genuinely yours, and a part that won't carry its load has quietly cut itself off.