And there will be much nashing of teeth too...

I heard the best line ever today, and it came from work, which in itself is amazing that anything brilliant could come of this cesspool: "Will there by yelling?" Why, yes, yes there will be yelling and hair pulling and much nashing of teeth.

We had a new employee start at Cell Block C (which is what my place of employment will be called from now on). She's nice. Like really nice. Like too nice to work here. Her very first task on her very first day is to attend a hockey team fitting, complete with hockey moms, hockey dads and wanna-be Sidney Crosby's only in the female form. In short, it's hell although not nearly as hellish as Cell Block C. But, she does not know that. According to management, everything is sunshine and lollipops here.

So, when wished good luck at the fitting tonight (yes, she's pulling overtime already), she asked why. "Will there be yelling?" With the boss there, I couldn't enthusiastically nod my head nor make the slicing across the throat kill motion. All I said was that it gets busy but to take a deep breath. Everything will get done, everyone will be served and remember it's your first day. Oh, and remember that NyQuil and Valium make a great combination.

Can Dolly do my job?

She may have a nice smile but does she rock the gaudy rings like me?

If I create my clone, will she have better fashion sense than me? Dolly the Sheep did it, so why can't I? Sure, she didn't last very long but that was years ago and I'm sure technology has advanced, so a clone for a year may be possible now.

Unlike Dolly, however, who was content to roam the hills of Scotland (yes, Scotland again - I just love the place!), I would put my clone to good use, putting me in two places at once, doing double the work and easing the voice that seems to ring out in my head every day of the five-days of hell at work: I need it yesterday.

As some of you know, I work in a high-stress environment with people yelling for their crap to get done even though I have 17 other pieces of crap work to go through. Today was stellar. With my coworker, Red, going off to greener pastures (see how I tied the sheep metaphor in there? Gawd, I'm brilliant), I inherited one extra salesperson, doing admin work for now three, sometimes four sales nazis. And, everyone needs their stuff, their orders done... you guessed it, yesterday.

In an ideal world or the world that our company manual seems to represent, admin people have 24 hours to deal with an order. That's 24 hours from the time it lands on their desk. Idyllic, right? Not so. Every order that flies  across  my desk must be done immediately, orders shouted from across the office, nothing written down and I have to ask how high I must jump. I'm used to it. It was how I was raised, my work ethic, nose-to-the-grindstone ingrained in my DNA.  But it's the raised voices, the sighs and tones emanating from the corner cubicle.

Today it was a mutter: "Idiot" under his breath, low so he thought I couldn't hear it, uttered when I had done what he had requested but sent a file in a version that could not be opened by the intended recipient. It was easily remedied by sending a follow-up email with the correct version. One request, one question and no attitude and it would have been done immediately and without issue. Instead, my hackles were up. The email was still sent but I was seething.

I don't do well with attitude or muttered insults. Kiss your teeth at me and I'll put you through the flippin' window. Head first. I'm not a violent person by nature, but disrespect me and question my intelligence and hellfire will be forth coming.

Tomorrow is interview day. Finally. And to top it off, I'm nervous as hell as it's been a while since I was on the job trail and this close to a potentially good job with good people, good pay and a chance to contribute anything but a body in a chair. I just hope they don't kiss their teeth.

Late night television can be edumacational

I’m a night hawk, and because of this, I see some pretty bad television.

I’m not sure what keeps me up at night – my internal clock, my internal wiring, my incessant worrying over everything that isn’t nailed down – you name it and it’s probably true, or at least makes up a portion of the reason my head doesn’t hit the pillow until at least 2 a.m. every night.

But last night was a windfall. I watched a program, while worrying about my new budget and cutbacks and light at the end of the tunnel. It’s not something I’d likely ever tune into – Tim Gunn’s Style Guide. It was pretty, frou-frou and surprisingly enlightening.

Sure, it dealt with a revamp of a wardrobe but unlike most “makeover” shows it delved deeper than the penchant for sequins and bad holiday sweaters and actually showcased a “Life Stylist.” What’s this humbo-jumbo you ask? Yeah, me too. But I kept watching.

The Life Stylist (code name for social worker, psychiatrist, therapist?) had this woman do an exercise where she labeled a bunch of volleyballs with her worries, some everyday worries, others life altering. He then had her put all of the balls into two prospective buckets, one of all the things she can control and the other things beyond her control.

After worrying about money and looking high and low for cutbacks and potential income increasers and expense decreasers, I needed some perspective. What can I control? My attitude. What can’t I control? You’d be surprised. You thought I was Wonder Woman didn’t you? I may have the same name but that’s all we share, if you don’t count the invisible plane and the gold lasso, but they’re presently locked up in my bedroom so I can scratch that worry off of the list. Phew!

So, at 2:30 in the goddamn fecking AM, I created two lists (I couldn’t find my volleyballs or a Sharpie marker… or buckets for that matter). I grabbed the first paper-like substance I could find – napkins – and wrote in point form my lists, a separate napkin for each ‘cause even though I’m skint, I’m not that cheap.

Things I can control:

• My attitude
• My weight
• My health
• My exercise regime
• My time
• My expenses (cutting back where I can)
• My job search

 

Things I can not control: 

• My family
• Other people’s reactions
• Work and the numpties I work for and with
• My past (I’m learning to forgive and let go, but not forget)
• My Man and his insecurities (I can’t make them mine or take responsibility for them)
• Other people and their issues

This morning, I’m invigorated. I may not have thrown all of the items I can’t control into the bucket, but I’m in the process one issue at a time. And that’s a start. (I also applied for about 10 jobs online last night, one of them in PEI, so I’m hoping that my career horizon is on its expansion route.)

Until then, I’m in control. Damn it.

 

I'm a feckin' ray of sunshine..

Actually, I'm not. And I'm going to get in trouble because: a) I'm slacking off at work. With an hour left until home time and on a Friday, the weekend is calling me. And I'm answering with slacks on - slacker slacks; b) I actually stole (yes, me!) the phrase from my friend at work, who stole it from a t-shirt - okay she read it off of a t-shirt and laughed her ass off. Literally. It's gone. She can't find it. Not really, but it would be really funny, wouldn't it?


I'm trying to find anything to make me laugh, to muster me out of this fog. There are many reasons for it: post-holiday blues, a fucktastic job that I would like to shove down someone's throat, negativity on a daily basis from my boss who loves when there's drama, and worse, a feeling of helplessness over a future without a Gusafus.

Gusafus is not a thing, he's a person - a little person - who doesn't have a bad bone in his body but who has a very large (and growing) tumor in his brain. And still he's all light and laughter, long, gangly legs that he will not grow into. It's a sad state when all I can do for him is kiss and hug him, fluff his pillows and love him with all of my ever-breaking heart. I would take the tumor and claim it as my own if I only could. I would sprinkle him with fairy dust to make him invisible, invincible. But I can't. All I can do is love and hold him tight to keep the monsters at bay.

Sad to say, but it puts the lives of us mere mortals in perspective. Shitty job? Gusafus will never have a job. Pining over a loss love (or lack thereof)? Gus will leave behind a legacy of love but never experience his first grown-up kiss or walk down the aisle and into the loving arms of his wife.

I had a really shitty day at work. Actually, it was a week's worth of shit to make up for the two weeks I was pretending my life here didn't exist. I do like some aspects of my life - it's not all bad - but I discovered that I would need to leave my present state of employ to leave my sanity intact. I know with some of you that's up for debate. I say piss off. I'm awesome (see, I've got an award to prove it). So now I'm here at home, Blackthorn cider in hand, remembering that others have it worse and sometimes the grass is not greener on the other side. All I have to do is look at Gus, his parents (my very best friends) and his sister to realize that while Gus doesn't have a choice on how to live his life, I do.

A toast to Gus, my little stinkpot. You make my life worth living well.