Wednesday, February 16, 2011
people never cease to amaze me
I just found out from my boss that two of my coworkers slept together just after one of them returned from their honeymoon. These are supposed to be adults, managers, competent human beings. To make it worse, one of them told one of the people they "manage" and now they gossip about it all day. No wonder their department has been suffering. I am so wide-eyed with shock right now. It's amazing what people will do to each other and themselves. And I get to clean up the professional mess left in their wake.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Valentine ramblings
I signed on today with no real thought as to what I would write, just that I wanted to write something. Before I clicked the "new post" button, I noticed this will supposedly be my 300th post. I feel like I should make it a special one, then, with some sort of well-prepared, engaging prose. But there are several things working against me, and I feel certain I will dissolve into rambling shortly.
First, my pupils have totally taken over my irises. It's like someone injected black ink into my eyeballs, making them look like cartoon versions of the real thing, all black and white, no spotted brown-green to be seen. I look high. I'm not, I'm just dialated. I had my yearly eye exam this morning.
It's a good thing it's only a yearly exam. $680. I'm trying to imagine all the fun things I could do with $680 but it just makes me sick to my stomach. This does cover the exam, a year's worth of contacts, and a new pair of glasses (I haven't gotten new frames in three years). But when the nurse looked up at me over her rimless specs and exhaled the total at me, in a low whistle, I could no longer tell if it was the lack of being able to see clearly or the number that made me feel like vomiting and passing out all at once. I dumbly handed her my debit card. I was already playing out the phone call to my husband to explain why I spent that huge amount, but I couldn't come up with a good explanation even for myself, other than needing to see. Is needing to see worth $700? I suppose so.
Of course we can cover it, as long as no one spends any other money today or tomorrow until our paychecks are in. But I should have given her my credit card, just in case. I don't like having under $200 in the account, which is where we currently stand. It makes me nervous.
We have no Valentine's plans, thank goodness. We had brunch together yesterday instead, and when we left the bakery/cafe, they had a plate of freshly made red velvet cupcakes for sale, and we took 2 for after dinner tonight. It's a normal day other than the cupcakes (and the $700 bomb)-- work, gym, cook dinner, tv, and sleep. In the middle of all that, of course, is taking care of our puppies.
My parents lost their black lab a couple months ago. I suppose she was "mine" too. We got her as a puppy when I was 13. She was 15 this year, and her arthritis and old heart finally caught up to her. What a sweetheart, totally irreplaceable, my old Sammy girl. They still have two-- Beau, the clueless and laughable chocolate lab/great dane mix, about 8 years old, and Daisy, the lover and protector, a 2-year-old bassett hound mix. When I was a kid, we had Maxie, the first canine love of my life, a gray miniature schanuzer. She was super scary smart, loyal, and a big lap baby. She passed right before I left for college. My parents have always wanted another schnauzer but for a long time resisted because Maxie was such a one-of-a-kind dog. They are now thinking they may want to give it a go, but they're going to adopt from the shelter, which means it may be a mix, and they want to get an older dog, at least a full year.
When my husband comments on our dog's behavior (when they are bad, they are "my" dogs, not his), I can point to my parents to see where my affinity for having a houseful of furry creatures was born. They are such a comfort and bring so much joy. I am a huge proponent of adoption over buying pets, though. Unless you're showing, breeding (and they do that just fine on their own, not sure why they need our help), or maybe have a severe allergy, there is absolutely no reason to go after a "pure-bred" dog. In fact, mixes tend to have fewer health problems as a general rule. Maxie, a pure-bred, had some kind of weird itchy skin condition all her life, started having seizures at middle age, and went blind before she passed, all known issues with miniature schnauzers. Bub, on the other hand, my little terrier terror, had a luxating patella (his kneecap shifted) at age 7, but it was quickly fixed, and now he's fine. He's almost 9. Beau, other than eating strange things and making himself sick, which is attributable only to his lack of common sense and not breeding as there are many dumb pure-breds out there too, hasn't had any health problems. For a dog his size and his age, that's saying something.
The most important consideration for me, though, is the overpopulation of pets in our country. It depresses me to see the amount of animals that filter in and out of our local shelter every year-- people abandon their supposedly beloved pets every day. But they also never spay or neuter them, they jump fences and climb walls, and have millions of unneeded puppies and kittens every year, that the owners then just drop at the shelter, like a bag of unwanted old clothes. Add to that the cruel and idiotic puppy mill owners who breed, breed, breed the same female over and over again until the puppies hardly have a chance, born with weird defects and abnormalities. But they're sold to unsuspecting and equally idiotic buyers.
Bottom line-- if you want a pure-bred, for whatever reason, first try a rescue group. Every breed has them. Second, find a licensed breeder, check out their facilities, and even check their BBB rating. Do your due diligence. If you just want a dog that will love you and be your friend, go to the shelter, pick out a couple you like, ask lots of questions, play with them, take them for a walk, and take one home with you. They'll already be spayed or neutered and will probably be up to date on vaccinations too. You can't ask for much more than that.
This post turned into what I thought it would-- rambling. Please excuse typos, since I still can't see. I hope everyone is having a wonderful Valentine's day.
First, my pupils have totally taken over my irises. It's like someone injected black ink into my eyeballs, making them look like cartoon versions of the real thing, all black and white, no spotted brown-green to be seen. I look high. I'm not, I'm just dialated. I had my yearly eye exam this morning.
It's a good thing it's only a yearly exam. $680. I'm trying to imagine all the fun things I could do with $680 but it just makes me sick to my stomach. This does cover the exam, a year's worth of contacts, and a new pair of glasses (I haven't gotten new frames in three years). But when the nurse looked up at me over her rimless specs and exhaled the total at me, in a low whistle, I could no longer tell if it was the lack of being able to see clearly or the number that made me feel like vomiting and passing out all at once. I dumbly handed her my debit card. I was already playing out the phone call to my husband to explain why I spent that huge amount, but I couldn't come up with a good explanation even for myself, other than needing to see. Is needing to see worth $700? I suppose so.
Of course we can cover it, as long as no one spends any other money today or tomorrow until our paychecks are in. But I should have given her my credit card, just in case. I don't like having under $200 in the account, which is where we currently stand. It makes me nervous.
We have no Valentine's plans, thank goodness. We had brunch together yesterday instead, and when we left the bakery/cafe, they had a plate of freshly made red velvet cupcakes for sale, and we took 2 for after dinner tonight. It's a normal day other than the cupcakes (and the $700 bomb)-- work, gym, cook dinner, tv, and sleep. In the middle of all that, of course, is taking care of our puppies.
My parents lost their black lab a couple months ago. I suppose she was "mine" too. We got her as a puppy when I was 13. She was 15 this year, and her arthritis and old heart finally caught up to her. What a sweetheart, totally irreplaceable, my old Sammy girl. They still have two-- Beau, the clueless and laughable chocolate lab/great dane mix, about 8 years old, and Daisy, the lover and protector, a 2-year-old bassett hound mix. When I was a kid, we had Maxie, the first canine love of my life, a gray miniature schanuzer. She was super scary smart, loyal, and a big lap baby. She passed right before I left for college. My parents have always wanted another schnauzer but for a long time resisted because Maxie was such a one-of-a-kind dog. They are now thinking they may want to give it a go, but they're going to adopt from the shelter, which means it may be a mix, and they want to get an older dog, at least a full year.
When my husband comments on our dog's behavior (when they are bad, they are "my" dogs, not his), I can point to my parents to see where my affinity for having a houseful of furry creatures was born. They are such a comfort and bring so much joy. I am a huge proponent of adoption over buying pets, though. Unless you're showing, breeding (and they do that just fine on their own, not sure why they need our help), or maybe have a severe allergy, there is absolutely no reason to go after a "pure-bred" dog. In fact, mixes tend to have fewer health problems as a general rule. Maxie, a pure-bred, had some kind of weird itchy skin condition all her life, started having seizures at middle age, and went blind before she passed, all known issues with miniature schnauzers. Bub, on the other hand, my little terrier terror, had a luxating patella (his kneecap shifted) at age 7, but it was quickly fixed, and now he's fine. He's almost 9. Beau, other than eating strange things and making himself sick, which is attributable only to his lack of common sense and not breeding as there are many dumb pure-breds out there too, hasn't had any health problems. For a dog his size and his age, that's saying something.
The most important consideration for me, though, is the overpopulation of pets in our country. It depresses me to see the amount of animals that filter in and out of our local shelter every year-- people abandon their supposedly beloved pets every day. But they also never spay or neuter them, they jump fences and climb walls, and have millions of unneeded puppies and kittens every year, that the owners then just drop at the shelter, like a bag of unwanted old clothes. Add to that the cruel and idiotic puppy mill owners who breed, breed, breed the same female over and over again until the puppies hardly have a chance, born with weird defects and abnormalities. But they're sold to unsuspecting and equally idiotic buyers.
Bottom line-- if you want a pure-bred, for whatever reason, first try a rescue group. Every breed has them. Second, find a licensed breeder, check out their facilities, and even check their BBB rating. Do your due diligence. If you just want a dog that will love you and be your friend, go to the shelter, pick out a couple you like, ask lots of questions, play with them, take them for a walk, and take one home with you. They'll already be spayed or neutered and will probably be up to date on vaccinations too. You can't ask for much more than that.
This post turned into what I thought it would-- rambling. Please excuse typos, since I still can't see. I hope everyone is having a wonderful Valentine's day.
Friday, February 4, 2011
circles
Boone's circling again, chasing that mean ol' tail. You can tell when he's full of puppy spunk because he starts to put his butt into things, like Bub's face, my knee, anything that looks like it might play with him. He doesn't know his own strength though, in typical puppy fashion, and he's sat on poor Bub's head more than once. What Bub must think of us, having brought this crazy wild creature into our home. The tail is the last resort-- if no one else will play, there's always the trusty tail. It never goes away or says no, no.
I'm sitting at the gray formica kitchen counter (I hate it, I crave solid surface) waiting on a text from my husband. He should be leaving work right now, on his way to the gym, but we were invited to dinner with friends. Mexican. Although not really "Mexican," more a conglomeration of Mexican, Texan, and general Southeastern cuisine. In the Southeast, Mexican restaurants have a white cheese dip made from Asadero cheese that is so much tastier-- salty, naturally spicy, rich-- than other quesos. Oh, how I pined for that when we were living in London.
I hear a ripping noise and look over at Boone, now too near my couch. For a second I think he's tearing into my Granny's blue and pink handmade quilt, but no, he's got his rope toy laid in the floor, pulling strands between his teeth. This one has lasted a surprisingly long time-- a whole week now, and it's probably still got a week left in it. I've attracted his attention now, by coming over to look, and he wants to play. A couple tugs and he gets that "gotta go" look on his face, and it's out the back door. I wouldn't mind except it's pouring out, again, sleet and rain, which means I'll have to dry him off, again, in a few minutes, and with all that wound-up energy he thinks the towel is the most fun game ever. The goal? Leaving me as dirty as he was when he scratched at the door.
Phone rings. He had a late customer and is finishing up the paperwork. He sounds tired, haggard, worn down. He needs a new job, one that he loves. We used to say at least this one pays the bills, but with the downturn in sales, it's just barely doing that. But we're frugal. Even Mexican is only $20, and we need some socializing. Boone needs some socializing too. Maybe a walk in the park tomorrow, on my much-needed day off. That is if it's not still raining. Otherwise it'll just be tail-chasing on the rug.
I'm sitting at the gray formica kitchen counter (I hate it, I crave solid surface) waiting on a text from my husband. He should be leaving work right now, on his way to the gym, but we were invited to dinner with friends. Mexican. Although not really "Mexican," more a conglomeration of Mexican, Texan, and general Southeastern cuisine. In the Southeast, Mexican restaurants have a white cheese dip made from Asadero cheese that is so much tastier-- salty, naturally spicy, rich-- than other quesos. Oh, how I pined for that when we were living in London.
I hear a ripping noise and look over at Boone, now too near my couch. For a second I think he's tearing into my Granny's blue and pink handmade quilt, but no, he's got his rope toy laid in the floor, pulling strands between his teeth. This one has lasted a surprisingly long time-- a whole week now, and it's probably still got a week left in it. I've attracted his attention now, by coming over to look, and he wants to play. A couple tugs and he gets that "gotta go" look on his face, and it's out the back door. I wouldn't mind except it's pouring out, again, sleet and rain, which means I'll have to dry him off, again, in a few minutes, and with all that wound-up energy he thinks the towel is the most fun game ever. The goal? Leaving me as dirty as he was when he scratched at the door.
Phone rings. He had a late customer and is finishing up the paperwork. He sounds tired, haggard, worn down. He needs a new job, one that he loves. We used to say at least this one pays the bills, but with the downturn in sales, it's just barely doing that. But we're frugal. Even Mexican is only $20, and we need some socializing. Boone needs some socializing too. Maybe a walk in the park tomorrow, on my much-needed day off. That is if it's not still raining. Otherwise it'll just be tail-chasing on the rug.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
sweet vices
Apparently I can no longer function without coffee in the morning.
I blame it on my husband-- he bent to my whim and bought me a Keurig coffee maker for Christmas. I suppose I did twist his arm pretty hard, ohhing and ahhing every time the commercial came on tv. To be able to make one cup at a time (because we never needed more than two on a random Sunday), to have all those different flavors and brews there waiting, trying something new every time....
I do love coffee. I fell in love with it when we were living in London; the stuff over there in Europe, like most everything else, is so much better. So much more real and natural and flavorful. Why do Americans water down and pasteurize and muck up everything? Don't even mention American cheese to me. I'll take a French brie or an English Roquefort any day. And bread? We make "Wonder;" they make fresh loafs of ciabatta and foccacia and rye. The saddest part is that most Americans have no idea what they're missing.
There's a coffee shop on Charing Cross Road down near Leicester Square in London, Caffe Vergnano 1882. It's been almost 5 years, but in my mind's eye I could lead you there, down the windy road, past the Tesco, several theaters, and used book stores. You can smell it as you walk, the bitter richness of coffee mixed with the sweet smell of chocolate and cream. They pour their brews into large glass mugs or squat ceramic cups, an inch of froth on the top of each, from the giant chrome dome-shaped brewer on their counter. Order a mocha or a hot chocolate and they stencil 1882 in chocolate powder across the foam. What I wouldn't give for one of those right now.
I started ordering my coffee black then and continue to drink it black even though until my Keurig I couldn't find a decent tasting coffee to save my life. Even the Starbucks over there tasted better than anything you can get here, or so I thought. The Keurig has reminded me what good coffee should taste like-- rich, strong, slightly bitter but also smooth, smoky or chocolaty depending on the brew. Today I had a Kona extra-bold blend, which was very smooth and light, lighter than what I would usually pick, but good for a change. My favorites so far have been the Green Mountain French Roast and the Caribou Mahogany. I'm almost out and plan on shopping for some more varieties tonight.
The last few days I have been tired at work after lunch, and I think it's because I was refraining from a cup of coffee in the morning. Today I had a cup and am feeling much more awake. I'm torn between worrying that I should cut back (I don't like to be on anything, from caffeine to alcohol to medicine-- it's a control issue) and thinking that I don't allow myself much, so I should at least allow myself to indulge in one relatively harmless thing I enjoy-- a good, rich, dark cup of black coffee.
I blame it on my husband-- he bent to my whim and bought me a Keurig coffee maker for Christmas. I suppose I did twist his arm pretty hard, ohhing and ahhing every time the commercial came on tv. To be able to make one cup at a time (because we never needed more than two on a random Sunday), to have all those different flavors and brews there waiting, trying something new every time....
I do love coffee. I fell in love with it when we were living in London; the stuff over there in Europe, like most everything else, is so much better. So much more real and natural and flavorful. Why do Americans water down and pasteurize and muck up everything? Don't even mention American cheese to me. I'll take a French brie or an English Roquefort any day. And bread? We make "Wonder;" they make fresh loafs of ciabatta and foccacia and rye. The saddest part is that most Americans have no idea what they're missing.
There's a coffee shop on Charing Cross Road down near Leicester Square in London, Caffe Vergnano 1882. It's been almost 5 years, but in my mind's eye I could lead you there, down the windy road, past the Tesco, several theaters, and used book stores. You can smell it as you walk, the bitter richness of coffee mixed with the sweet smell of chocolate and cream. They pour their brews into large glass mugs or squat ceramic cups, an inch of froth on the top of each, from the giant chrome dome-shaped brewer on their counter. Order a mocha or a hot chocolate and they stencil 1882 in chocolate powder across the foam. What I wouldn't give for one of those right now.
I started ordering my coffee black then and continue to drink it black even though until my Keurig I couldn't find a decent tasting coffee to save my life. Even the Starbucks over there tasted better than anything you can get here, or so I thought. The Keurig has reminded me what good coffee should taste like-- rich, strong, slightly bitter but also smooth, smoky or chocolaty depending on the brew. Today I had a Kona extra-bold blend, which was very smooth and light, lighter than what I would usually pick, but good for a change. My favorites so far have been the Green Mountain French Roast and the Caribou Mahogany. I'm almost out and plan on shopping for some more varieties tonight.
The last few days I have been tired at work after lunch, and I think it's because I was refraining from a cup of coffee in the morning. Today I had a cup and am feeling much more awake. I'm torn between worrying that I should cut back (I don't like to be on anything, from caffeine to alcohol to medicine-- it's a control issue) and thinking that I don't allow myself much, so I should at least allow myself to indulge in one relatively harmless thing I enjoy-- a good, rich, dark cup of black coffee.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
weekend
I bought my dad a grateful journal for Christmas as a stocking stuffer. My mom told me that she's seen him with it a couple times. I'm hoping that he's actually writing; it would do him so much good. He also found an old diet cookbook while cleaning out my grandmother's kitchen, one devoted solely to eating to improve your serotonin levels. He's been on an SSRI for years and recently his doctor told him that his medicine is helping him to gain weight as it increases his desire for sweets and simple carbs. He's near 300 pounds now. So this cookbook has become his new Bible. He spent all weekend telling me about it and about how he's already lost 2 pounds and thinks this will not only help him lose weight but also improve his serotonin naturally. Here's hoping.
I was in a bad mood last night, but I chose to be happy. I forced a smile onto my face, I skipped to the door to let the dogs out, I hummed a tune, and I planned a good meal for my husband (shrimp paella). At first I felt stupid and unnatural, but then I forgot I was forcing myself and was just happy. It was a revelation. I'm forcing myself again now. If it wasn't for this migraine I've been fighting for three days, it would be working a lot more quickly.
We had more snow over the weekend here than we've had in 20-something years. Over 6 inches on Sunday night, and it still hasn't melted. I worked from home on Monday, but I took some time to go outside and play with my husband and my dogs. Here are some pictures:
I was in a bad mood last night, but I chose to be happy. I forced a smile onto my face, I skipped to the door to let the dogs out, I hummed a tune, and I planned a good meal for my husband (shrimp paella). At first I felt stupid and unnatural, but then I forgot I was forcing myself and was just happy. It was a revelation. I'm forcing myself again now. If it wasn't for this migraine I've been fighting for three days, it would be working a lot more quickly.
We had more snow over the weekend here than we've had in 20-something years. Over 6 inches on Sunday night, and it still hasn't melted. I worked from home on Monday, but I took some time to go outside and play with my husband and my dogs. Here are some pictures:
Thursday, January 6, 2011
distant as the milky way
I woke up in a terrible mood. I've been grinding my teeth at night (I do that when I'm stressed; the last time I was doing it this badly was when we were living in London, barely scraping by financially, I was neck-deep in my graduate dissertation, and my grandfather was back in the States dying of cancer). This type of clenching and grinding eventually works its way down my neck and into my shoulders. My teeth feel misaligned already, and I'm just waiting for the morning that I wake up and can't turn my head. It's happened before, I feel certain it will happen again. Only a matter of time.
I digress.
So I woke up in pain, again, and when my iPhone alarm went off, I noticed I had several unread emails from overnight. One of these was from a particularly angry customer. I spent the rest of the morning agonizing over having to once again come to work and fight these uphill battles, extinguishing fires only to turn around and find more, no rest or respite from the war.
I'm thankful for music today, for the healing and uplifting power it has. Stevie Wonder sang My Cherie Amour over the radio waves just for me this morning, and one can't help but feel happy listening to that song. It encouraged me to keep the good feeling going, so I put on a song that always gives me energy to face anything-- American Girl by the Heartbreakers. By the time it was over, I was at the office, had finished my cup of coffee, and was feeling much better. Well, minus the teeth.
My husband got his Christmas bonus today, finally. We had started to get worried though the boss kept promising it was coming. Enough to cover the windshield we had to buy when mine got cracked by a rouge rock, and no less than last year's bonus, but not enough to make either of us jump for joy. His pay is mostly commission based, and though when he started he was making a good amount, he actually pulled in less than me this year. I'm grateful that even though we're pulling in a good $15k less than we were two years ago, we're still able to live a steady and pretty comfortable life. Thank goodness for our levelheadedness.
But seeing how little we're making also brought to mind all the less stressful jobs we could be doing for the same amount of money. He could be working at his favorite upscale men's clothing store (the man is a clothes horse, so good at dressing others, and he loved working there in college though that was only part-time), and I could be working at a local art gallery. We would both be on the town square, we could eat lunch together, people in town would see us around and think "where do I know them from..." the way we do with people we think of as town characters, or townies, and we would be more fulfilled and less stressed. Alas, neither of those places is hiring, just like everywhere else, and even if they were, I highly doubt that it would be as perfect as I imagine. No where is. Not to mention how painful the ripping off of my current job band aid would be. Ouch.
I have a favorite massage therapist in town, and I need to get in to see him. His next appointment outside my work hours isn't until Tuesday, though. He's gotten too popular. I guess I should have kept my mouth shut about him. But I am glad to see he's succeeding and thankful that at least someone is doing well in this economy. I wonder if I called him if he could sneak me in. I guess it's worth a try.
I digress.
So I woke up in pain, again, and when my iPhone alarm went off, I noticed I had several unread emails from overnight. One of these was from a particularly angry customer. I spent the rest of the morning agonizing over having to once again come to work and fight these uphill battles, extinguishing fires only to turn around and find more, no rest or respite from the war.
I'm thankful for music today, for the healing and uplifting power it has. Stevie Wonder sang My Cherie Amour over the radio waves just for me this morning, and one can't help but feel happy listening to that song. It encouraged me to keep the good feeling going, so I put on a song that always gives me energy to face anything-- American Girl by the Heartbreakers. By the time it was over, I was at the office, had finished my cup of coffee, and was feeling much better. Well, minus the teeth.
My husband got his Christmas bonus today, finally. We had started to get worried though the boss kept promising it was coming. Enough to cover the windshield we had to buy when mine got cracked by a rouge rock, and no less than last year's bonus, but not enough to make either of us jump for joy. His pay is mostly commission based, and though when he started he was making a good amount, he actually pulled in less than me this year. I'm grateful that even though we're pulling in a good $15k less than we were two years ago, we're still able to live a steady and pretty comfortable life. Thank goodness for our levelheadedness.
But seeing how little we're making also brought to mind all the less stressful jobs we could be doing for the same amount of money. He could be working at his favorite upscale men's clothing store (the man is a clothes horse, so good at dressing others, and he loved working there in college though that was only part-time), and I could be working at a local art gallery. We would both be on the town square, we could eat lunch together, people in town would see us around and think "where do I know them from..." the way we do with people we think of as town characters, or townies, and we would be more fulfilled and less stressed. Alas, neither of those places is hiring, just like everywhere else, and even if they were, I highly doubt that it would be as perfect as I imagine. No where is. Not to mention how painful the ripping off of my current job band aid would be. Ouch.
I have a favorite massage therapist in town, and I need to get in to see him. His next appointment outside my work hours isn't until Tuesday, though. He's gotten too popular. I guess I should have kept my mouth shut about him. But I am glad to see he's succeeding and thankful that at least someone is doing well in this economy. I wonder if I called him if he could sneak me in. I guess it's worth a try.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
I've decided I need to pick the grateful posts back up. I can't commit to a day. I may not even make it to this once a week. They probably won't always be in the same format either. These thoughts are always in mind even if they're not on "paper" here, but the act of putting them down in writing does my soul good. And with the end of the year quickly approaching, I feel it's best to end on a high note.
There seems to be a lot circling lately, like something big is coming. The universe seems to be preparing me for something. I have no idea what; I can't even point to exactly what I mean. Maybe it's just a feeling or an intuition. Maybe it's that I feel a need for a change. Something has to give sometime.
I'm tired of talking about and thinking about work. When I was young, I thought I'd make something big out of myself, that I'd become a magazine editor and create beautiful pages, or that I'd write awe-inspiring articles for some big newspaper. Life took such a toll on me, between my family's problems and the pressure I put on myself, that I gave up trying. I took the easy way out, the art history route, that required no more than me putting my nose in a book and visiting quiet, peaceful museums. The thought of it now lulls me into a peaceful state. I fought so hard for so much of my early life, fought for myself and for women and for animals, fought against people who'd rather I didn't exist, who'd rather continue to step on me and those I stood for on their way up, that eventually I did feel trampled and squashed. So I gave up and retreated into myself. I see it now, though at the time I thought I was just doing what was best for me. I guess it was what was best for me, but I feel like I also cheated myself out of what could have been an amazing, if trying and stressful, life.
The annoying part is that despite me running from positions of power, they somehow keep getting thrust upon me. This office looks to me for guidance now, and I feel no more suited to that than I would to swimming in the Olympics or figuring complex math equations. I'm out of place. I'm torn as well, because I feel cheated, like if I was going to be this stressed out, it could have at least been for something that I cared about, some cause or career that I wanted, rather than one I fell into unintentionally. And if a stressful yet worthy career was something I wanted to avoid, why can't I actually do that and find something peaceful that I can do?
It's not that I don't care about my work. I care about the people here and about making this work so we all succeed, so we can make enough money to do the fun things in life without worrying about paying bills, so that we can make a difference in the lives of our customers. But running a company is stressful, and our customers half the time are jerks. I keep coming back because of my coworkers, because I care about them. If it wasn't for them, I would have been gone a long time ago. I am grateful for them. I'm also grateful for the lessons this job has taught me, like management skills, communication skills (HR will do that, quick), patience, and even more empathy and understanding, though I thought I had no more room left for that.
I'm grateful for this trying and stressful year. It didn't kill me, so it must have made me stronger.
There seems to be a lot circling lately, like something big is coming. The universe seems to be preparing me for something. I have no idea what; I can't even point to exactly what I mean. Maybe it's just a feeling or an intuition. Maybe it's that I feel a need for a change. Something has to give sometime.
I'm tired of talking about and thinking about work. When I was young, I thought I'd make something big out of myself, that I'd become a magazine editor and create beautiful pages, or that I'd write awe-inspiring articles for some big newspaper. Life took such a toll on me, between my family's problems and the pressure I put on myself, that I gave up trying. I took the easy way out, the art history route, that required no more than me putting my nose in a book and visiting quiet, peaceful museums. The thought of it now lulls me into a peaceful state. I fought so hard for so much of my early life, fought for myself and for women and for animals, fought against people who'd rather I didn't exist, who'd rather continue to step on me and those I stood for on their way up, that eventually I did feel trampled and squashed. So I gave up and retreated into myself. I see it now, though at the time I thought I was just doing what was best for me. I guess it was what was best for me, but I feel like I also cheated myself out of what could have been an amazing, if trying and stressful, life.
The annoying part is that despite me running from positions of power, they somehow keep getting thrust upon me. This office looks to me for guidance now, and I feel no more suited to that than I would to swimming in the Olympics or figuring complex math equations. I'm out of place. I'm torn as well, because I feel cheated, like if I was going to be this stressed out, it could have at least been for something that I cared about, some cause or career that I wanted, rather than one I fell into unintentionally. And if a stressful yet worthy career was something I wanted to avoid, why can't I actually do that and find something peaceful that I can do?
It's not that I don't care about my work. I care about the people here and about making this work so we all succeed, so we can make enough money to do the fun things in life without worrying about paying bills, so that we can make a difference in the lives of our customers. But running a company is stressful, and our customers half the time are jerks. I keep coming back because of my coworkers, because I care about them. If it wasn't for them, I would have been gone a long time ago. I am grateful for them. I'm also grateful for the lessons this job has taught me, like management skills, communication skills (HR will do that, quick), patience, and even more empathy and understanding, though I thought I had no more room left for that.
I'm grateful for this trying and stressful year. It didn't kill me, so it must have made me stronger.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
fed up
I'm so fed-up today, so frustrated. The boss tells me I should be the bigger person, I should start the conversation with rude woman. That it was all just a miscommunication, she thought I meant something I didn't mean, I thought she was saying something she wasn't saying. Fine, got it, I fully recognize and take responsibility for my part in that. I did not, however, blow up, send a nasty email, and then never try to apologize for it. I have never and would never do that, not to the degree she did.
This is not to say I don't get mad. That same day I raised my voice to an employee who screwed something up, but I never ventured into personal territory, I never insulted him, and a few moments after raising my voice I returned and apologized for my manner. We laughed about it. And that's the way it should be-- we're all going to get fed up and frustrated from time to time, but her reaction was WAY out of line, and her lack of an apology is just as bad.
All I get are excuses from the boss. She was tired, she was stressed out, she was trying to protect a fellow worker (who is a gay man) because he was stressed out, and she feels a natural tendency to protect men like him. BLAH BLAH BLAH. I've worked hard for this company for two years, killing myself, stressing myself out, because I believe in what we're doing and I believe in our people. She's been around a few months and she thinks she gets to talk to me about stress? About staying up all night working? She thinks her relationship with our boss is more important than mine?
He says she feels like we don't respect her, that we don't take her seriously. What does he expect when we've never seen her resume, know nothing about her, and she gets dropped on us to manage, makes more money than most of us, and the first thing she produces for us is crap. Crap. So he gives her a different project. Now this one she is running with, she's good at this. But ultimately we don't totally trust her, and I certainly don't trust her professionalism (who writes 'hahahahhaaha" all the way across the line of an email to a client, anyway?), plus the part of the project that led to the blow up was about money, and that's my domain around here. She wants to spend our money, I'm going to prod and ask questions. It's my job. We're broke.
So we're all feeling a little like he's brought her in because she's his friend, she lost her job, and now he's paying her more than the rest of us, and her output is questionable. Then she insults me. I'm just at a total loss as to how I'm supposed to find my way to being the "bigger person" here.
Don't get me wrong, I love my boss. He's the best boss I've ever had and probably ever will. But he's fallible, and I think this whole thing was a mistake. I just have to get him to see it, and I don't know how.
I go back and forth. One minute I think, "I have got to let this go. I will let this go." And I feel better. Then I think, "No one talks to me that way. As much as my grandfather told me that nothing worth doing was easy, he also would never have let anyone talk to him that way." And I want to have a very frank conversation with my boss.
I know you're all sick of hearing about this. I'm really struggling here, though. I'm trying to get it out of my head. I worked myself up to tears this morning thinking about it. She's not just going to go away after a week-- he's talking about keeping her on full time. I'm so frustrated.
This is not to say I don't get mad. That same day I raised my voice to an employee who screwed something up, but I never ventured into personal territory, I never insulted him, and a few moments after raising my voice I returned and apologized for my manner. We laughed about it. And that's the way it should be-- we're all going to get fed up and frustrated from time to time, but her reaction was WAY out of line, and her lack of an apology is just as bad.
All I get are excuses from the boss. She was tired, she was stressed out, she was trying to protect a fellow worker (who is a gay man) because he was stressed out, and she feels a natural tendency to protect men like him. BLAH BLAH BLAH. I've worked hard for this company for two years, killing myself, stressing myself out, because I believe in what we're doing and I believe in our people. She's been around a few months and she thinks she gets to talk to me about stress? About staying up all night working? She thinks her relationship with our boss is more important than mine?
He says she feels like we don't respect her, that we don't take her seriously. What does he expect when we've never seen her resume, know nothing about her, and she gets dropped on us to manage, makes more money than most of us, and the first thing she produces for us is crap. Crap. So he gives her a different project. Now this one she is running with, she's good at this. But ultimately we don't totally trust her, and I certainly don't trust her professionalism (who writes 'hahahahhaaha" all the way across the line of an email to a client, anyway?), plus the part of the project that led to the blow up was about money, and that's my domain around here. She wants to spend our money, I'm going to prod and ask questions. It's my job. We're broke.
So we're all feeling a little like he's brought her in because she's his friend, she lost her job, and now he's paying her more than the rest of us, and her output is questionable. Then she insults me. I'm just at a total loss as to how I'm supposed to find my way to being the "bigger person" here.
Don't get me wrong, I love my boss. He's the best boss I've ever had and probably ever will. But he's fallible, and I think this whole thing was a mistake. I just have to get him to see it, and I don't know how.
I go back and forth. One minute I think, "I have got to let this go. I will let this go." And I feel better. Then I think, "No one talks to me that way. As much as my grandfather told me that nothing worth doing was easy, he also would never have let anyone talk to him that way." And I want to have a very frank conversation with my boss.
I know you're all sick of hearing about this. I'm really struggling here, though. I'm trying to get it out of my head. I worked myself up to tears this morning thinking about it. She's not just going to go away after a week-- he's talking about keeping her on full time. I'm so frustrated.
Monday, December 20, 2010
lord, grant me patience
I'm not a religious person, but I need a prayer today. It's only 10 a.m. and already I feel the ire and resentment boiling up inside my chest. I'm clenching my jaw. I have to keep reminding myself every 3 minutes, unclench.
The rude woman has continued to be rude. She's emailing around me, sending things to my boss about his schedule instead of to me, though she knows that I both manage his calendar exclusively and receive his emails too. Then when I reply with a proposed time, she emails him back and says whether or not it will work. This morning she is trying to schedule a meeting with the whole team about the project and is not including me on it. It's entirely passive-aggressive, not to mention pathetic.
Part of me, a big part of me, wants to lash out. I want to put her in her place and remind her who pays her check. I want to outright fire her. It's unfortunate that we need her for this project, which should be done in the next week. It's also unfortunate that she has a friendship with my boss from a previous job. It's clouding his vision-- he's ever so slightly defending her when I bring her up, saying things like "well, the project will be over soon, and she's just stressed." I feel like he should be defending me, his ally, his #1 employee, who was insulted and belittled by this crazy woman.
But another part of me believes what you all have told me-- that I should be patient, that I should try to learn from this. That anyone who acts this way is frightened and insecure. I'm trying to be the bigger person, trying to swallow my pride and just get on it with it. I feel sabotaged and ignored, but I'm trying to put out peacefulness, kindness, and calmness into the world. It's so hard.
As my grandfather would have told me, nothing worth doing is ever easy.
The rude woman has continued to be rude. She's emailing around me, sending things to my boss about his schedule instead of to me, though she knows that I both manage his calendar exclusively and receive his emails too. Then when I reply with a proposed time, she emails him back and says whether or not it will work. This morning she is trying to schedule a meeting with the whole team about the project and is not including me on it. It's entirely passive-aggressive, not to mention pathetic.
Part of me, a big part of me, wants to lash out. I want to put her in her place and remind her who pays her check. I want to outright fire her. It's unfortunate that we need her for this project, which should be done in the next week. It's also unfortunate that she has a friendship with my boss from a previous job. It's clouding his vision-- he's ever so slightly defending her when I bring her up, saying things like "well, the project will be over soon, and she's just stressed." I feel like he should be defending me, his ally, his #1 employee, who was insulted and belittled by this crazy woman.
But another part of me believes what you all have told me-- that I should be patient, that I should try to learn from this. That anyone who acts this way is frightened and insecure. I'm trying to be the bigger person, trying to swallow my pride and just get on it with it. I feel sabotaged and ignored, but I'm trying to put out peacefulness, kindness, and calmness into the world. It's so hard.
As my grandfather would have told me, nothing worth doing is ever easy.
Friday, December 17, 2010
absent
I don't mean to be so absent. I'm present, fully present, in my life, which I suppose dictates that I must be more absent here. I'm outside of my head lately, and it's only when I'm inside my head that I feel the urge to post, to explore what's there. I'm reacting without really thinking, which I don't like but is becoming more and more familiar.
Work has been very, very difficult. The company is broke to the point where I feel guilty about cashing my pay check-- even though the company's bank will cover it so it won't bounce, I know there's not enough money in the account to pay it. We're struggling through, day to day, trying to pay bills. The SBA and all other avenues we've tried for small business funding have fallen though. Apparently you have to prove that you don't need money (that you're able to pay your bills off in time and that you have a good credit history) before they will give you any money. I know they have to cover their own asses, but what's the point in giving a loan to someone who already has money? If we had money to cover our bills, we wouldn't need a loan.
Luckily the rest of my life has been peachy. All my Christmas shopping is done, and I got some great deals on some perfect presents. We're hosting Christmas lunch at my house with both my parents and my husband's family. We've been spending a lot of time with friends, trying to keep our minds off the dismal work environments we're both dealing with. Boone is growing into a very good dog, the only problem being that he likes to keep the backyard clean... he seems to think Bub is dirtying it when he goes #2, so Boone "cleans" it up... I won't go into more detail there. We're exploring options.
One thing that has been on my mind the last couple of days-- how do you react to rudness? There's a woman who works for us on special projects on a contract basis from her home out west. We have a project that she's been working on that has to be done by next week, so she's stressed, which I understand. But when I said something she didn't like in an email (it wasn't mean, it just wasn't what she wanted to hear), she came back with an insult about my knowledge level of the project and a suggestion that if I wanted it to continue, perhaps I should be the one staying up late to work on it. It was both unprofessional and counterproductive, not to mention rude. My coworker, who is managing the project internally, talked to her, told her to cool off and get back to work, but she has yet to apologize to me for her snap. At this point I'm filing it away, knowing that when she's done with this project I'll make a huge push to never use her again for future projects. I also feel myself leaning towards being a little slower in my replies and a little less friendly too, but I'm trying to just swallow the burnt taste and let it go. What would you do?
Work has been very, very difficult. The company is broke to the point where I feel guilty about cashing my pay check-- even though the company's bank will cover it so it won't bounce, I know there's not enough money in the account to pay it. We're struggling through, day to day, trying to pay bills. The SBA and all other avenues we've tried for small business funding have fallen though. Apparently you have to prove that you don't need money (that you're able to pay your bills off in time and that you have a good credit history) before they will give you any money. I know they have to cover their own asses, but what's the point in giving a loan to someone who already has money? If we had money to cover our bills, we wouldn't need a loan.
Luckily the rest of my life has been peachy. All my Christmas shopping is done, and I got some great deals on some perfect presents. We're hosting Christmas lunch at my house with both my parents and my husband's family. We've been spending a lot of time with friends, trying to keep our minds off the dismal work environments we're both dealing with. Boone is growing into a very good dog, the only problem being that he likes to keep the backyard clean... he seems to think Bub is dirtying it when he goes #2, so Boone "cleans" it up... I won't go into more detail there. We're exploring options.
One thing that has been on my mind the last couple of days-- how do you react to rudness? There's a woman who works for us on special projects on a contract basis from her home out west. We have a project that she's been working on that has to be done by next week, so she's stressed, which I understand. But when I said something she didn't like in an email (it wasn't mean, it just wasn't what she wanted to hear), she came back with an insult about my knowledge level of the project and a suggestion that if I wanted it to continue, perhaps I should be the one staying up late to work on it. It was both unprofessional and counterproductive, not to mention rude. My coworker, who is managing the project internally, talked to her, told her to cool off and get back to work, but she has yet to apologize to me for her snap. At this point I'm filing it away, knowing that when she's done with this project I'll make a huge push to never use her again for future projects. I also feel myself leaning towards being a little slower in my replies and a little less friendly too, but I'm trying to just swallow the burnt taste and let it go. What would you do?
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