Kid Gloves

Everyone around me is acting crazy. What I mean to say is, it's extremely busy here this week, and it has affected everyone. The work-load is unbelievable... and yet I remain calm.

I've no doubt that my load is lighter; that I haven't got the crap that all the other gals do. They seem to be treating me gently; like I'm fragile.

So I really don't know if it's the meds working. Or if it's just that I am truly Not Stressed Out.

I can tell you this... I like calm.

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I can't believe this...

Maybe I shouldn't be quite so surprised by the whole thing, but I am. You see, for over a year, I have been dealing with some issues regarding collateral for a loan I booked. A loan for a client of the most lazy (and apparently untruthful) Relationship Manager ever.

It's been a long drawn out process. When the monthy MISSING ITEMS report goes out, I always get a call. Whine, whine, whine, and more whine. A girl could get really drunk on all this whine. Seriously!

Many months ago he faxed some signed documents to my attention. He then emailed me, alerting me to the fact that he had sent them, and stating that he would place them in an interoffice bag for me to have the next day. Days went by. No documents. I, of course, called him and questioned him about the delivery method (interoffice? or Fed Ex?). "Fed Ex, of course!", he said. (an attempt to place blame on someone else perhaps?) I calmly asked for the tracking number, and he said he'd call me back. He never did. Except when his boss got the MISSING ITEMS report for the next month. And we would start all over again.

Today I received an email from him, with the scanned documents. This was followed by a voice mail message, and before I could call him back, another call.

"Did you see? I sent you the documents in email!" He sounded so pleased with himself. Did he not remember that he had yelled at me for losing his documents? Did he forget that he told me HE HAD SENT them VIA FED EX over a year ago? How forgetful does he think I am? or does he just think that I am stupid? What the HECK?

So I thanked him (amazing that I was able to hold my tongue and not scream at him), and asked that he send the originals to my attention via interoffice. Then I turned his attention to the fact that we did not have the original Title for the collateral in question. STILL.

"But I took the paperwork to the Dept of Licensing myself! Surely you have it by now!" I assured him that we did not. But, I offered to call the DOL to check on the status.

I guess it won't surprise you that he said, "NO! I will go down there myself today and get this cleared up." My guess is that he lied about taking the paperwork to DOL too.

Anyone want to take bets on this?

I really hate liars. Stupid liars are worse. (At least TRY to be smart about it.)

Her Voice

It's making me think of nails on a chalkboard. Someone needs to make her stop talking. She speaks in long, run on (and on) sentences...

Endless screeching.

*sigh*

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I'm still here

I realize it's been awhile since I've posted here. I don't know how many people stop by here anyway.

I'm doing well, I guess. Just pushing through the work that my therapist wants me to do. That makes it sound like I don't want to do the work. And that is wrong. I am doing the work, and I WANT to DO IT. I want to feel better. I want to move on to whatever is next in my life.

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So what else is new?

We are having a potluck today, and like always, someone is being cheap. Her dish maybe cost $7.00. Mine? It cost at least $15.00. AND it's homemade. AND it feeds more than four people.

I know. Grow up! Right?

I'm trying.

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One week in...

I'm taking PROZAC. I'm on day 8, which means I just doubled the doseage from the first week; meaning I am now ingesting two pills instead of the one they had me taking the first week.

I read the paperwork provided by the pharmacist. I've seen the list of possible side effects, and warning signs. I am familiar.

I wonder sometimes about the wisdom of giving this information to the patient. I mean, I know they HAVE TO make people aware. It's common sense. Well, and safer for everyone involved.

I must say though, a lot of my waking hours are spent *dwelling* on these things; the possible side effects.

Am I irritated today because of the medication? or is this just normal irritation?
Was that a suicidal thought? (don't worry! that one is just for an example... I am NOT suicidal.)
Are my aches and pains from the medicine?
Did the overtly-sexual dream I had last night mean I am spinning out of control?
Is my mind EVER going to stop racing in this manner?

I'm not sure about all of this yet. It's troubling me for sure.

oh my. I suddenly feel weepy.

and wobbly. oh.

Are we in Junior High?

It's Customer Service Week, and there is all kinds of frivolity going on at the old workplace; banner making, cheer creating, song composition. It's a sad mixture of "Go Team!" and "High School Musical". Which creates more excitement than "A Barrel Full of Monkeys". (Sarcasm there.. did you find it?)

Tomorrow, at 3PM, there will be a CLOSING CEREMONY. Yes. You heard me. There will be speeches, and awards. And there will be a procession; the FLAG/Banner Procession. With music. And cheers. Oh the horror.

We are all to wear blue pants (jeans are OK unless really faded) and red shirts (preferably ALL red... not a print with some red in it). IF we know where our Company baseball cap is, we may wear that as well.

Are you kidding me? A PARADE? With UNIFORMS?

Did we suddenly all become TWELVE YEARS OLD? (Although I doubt my 12 year old niece would participate, unless forced under threat of pain or no internet for several weeks, in a parade.)

I... have a doctor's appointment tomorrow afternoon. And even if the doctor sticks me with the BIGGEST NEEDLE on this planet, or makes me sicker than someone who ate bad sushi then went on the Tilt-A-Whirl at the local carnival, I am glad to be going to see him. Because even though they SAY, "Participation in this activity is strictly voluntary and is not a condition of employment.", I do not believe them. They will MAKE me march in their silly parade.

And I am not having it.

weary

I am combing over the paperwork and composing a list of things that need attention. There are so many things that have gone awry on this particular package. While I was out "sick", the signed documents were assigned to one processor. Also, while I was out "sick", the collateral documents were assigned to another. A third portion of the deal was assigned to yet another person. None of them knew what the other was doing. Here we are, almost two months later, and the whole pile is dumped back in my lap. It is returned to me with no explanation as to why it was not resolved in my absence; or why we have taken no action to remedy the alleged problems.

In my eyes it is simple; straightforward even.

And yet, here it is. Now it's a tangled mess. Now it looks like we are completely incompetent. Actually, it looks like *I* am the one who doesn't know what she is doing. It looks like *I* am the one who screwed up.

I am so upset about this that I am practically paralyzed over it.

I hope sleeping helps. That is all I want right now.

My bed.

My bed and a sleeping pill.

Dreamless sleep.

homeward bound

There's almost nothing better than riding home on the train with good friends. I love to hear about their days. Their stories are so funny!

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drama llama ding dong

Yesterday I was called to the Customer Service area about a loan I documented some 4 months ago. An incoming call to their area initiated the call to me. Would I come and look at the documentation file, located on QueenBee's desk? I certainly would - but I would do it with a sense of dread. OVERWHELMING DREAD.

At her desk, the QueenBee sat, with a superior look on her face. "I am better than you." read her body language. My hairs stood on end as I approached her. "What's up?" I asked.

"You have documented this loan INCORRECTLY." she stated.

Her tone of voice alone was horrid. Paired with her facial expression it was down-right unbearable. I was floundering for something to say... I could NOT believe I was being talked to like I was an idiot, like I had no brain, like a child that has been caught with her hands in the cookie jar. Who the HELL does this BITCH think she is?

Luckily her phone rang. She picked it up without excusing herself from our conversation. I stared at the back of her head and wondered how many times I could pound her skull before she'd FEEL ANYTHING. Then I listened to her conversation. She was speaking with the Account Officer for the loan in question. She was telling him that there were "problems" with the loan documents! She was about to name names!

I cleared my throat to remind her I was standing there. She quickly told the account officer that she would call him back.

As soon as I had her attention, I asked, "What is the problem?"

Her story: "I got a call from S in the XYZ Office. She needed to know how many officers need to sign on behalf of the corporation."

I said, "And that information is here." showing her where that was.

"Yes." she said. "BUT if you look HERE (and she turns the pages to an obscure portion of the BY-LAWS), it CLEARLY states something different."

"And you were looking at the BY-LAWS because...?" Clearly her job is to tell the caller what our documents say. "Isn't the information you needed right here?" Again, I turn her back to the LEGAL document that shows the information used to prepare our documents.

"Well, I don't agree, and I have called the Account Officer to let him know that our documents are questionable!"

"Great!" I enthused. "Is there a good reason to do THAT, instead of bringing it to my Supervisor's attention? Wouldn't THAT be the right thing to do?"

She began muttering about documentation being a joke in general, that we didn't always know what we are doing, that she could see that we were lacking in thoroughness. As my eyebrows raised, and my blood pressure soared, I invited her to come over any time and type some documents with us.

Then I said, "I am going to walk away right now. I cannot talk to you about this any more. I would advise you to take the file to my Supervisor BEFORE you make any more calls to people, especially since you do NOT know what you are talking about."

This morning I got the chance to speak with my Supervisor, who knew that there had been a verbal altercation. She said, "Was she RUDE to you, again?"

As the story unfolded, my Supervisor's eyes grew bigger and bigger. Her bugged out eyes were like a soothing lip balm on my dry chapped heart. "OH!" she exclaimed. "I did NOT know that she was doing THAT! OH! That HAS TO STOP!"

Yes. Yes it does.

Not only does our team have persons designated to check the quality of our work, we have Supervisors that do spot checks. Not only do we have a Compliance Officer that checks for discrepancies, we have Auditors that come to our department quite often to do check ups. Each of us checks the work within a file as we touch it for something else. We have a smoothly running machine. We have no need of a meddling WANNA BE. No need at all.

I'll be damned if I have to answer to HER. EVER.

Snap, Clap & Tap

I am happy to report that the tapping has subsided. The clapping has turned to the loud snapping of gum! Seriously?

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wonderful

I made the mistake of opening up my email today.  There, in my INBOX, was an email from a very NICE co-worker of mine.  She is always pleasant.  She's a sympathetic sort.  I can always count on her for a smile or two. Of course I opened it.  Of course.  I was expecting happiness.

What I read was completely different from that.

Now.  If you KNEW someone was home on doctor's orders...  If you were AWARE that they had had some sort of melt-down... Would you send them an email telling that person the following things?

• Everyone has a backlog of at least two days worth of work.
• H called in sick, and S was on vacation on Monday. So it got even worse.
• I started to cry on Tuesday because things are so bad here.

So umm.  How EXACTLY did she THINK this was going to be HELPFUL to me?  Or did she not think at all?  Or was she just letting me know, so that I could plan my NEXT BREAKDOWN?  People are un-"F"ing believable.

Pass me the pills please?

I'm going to need them when I go back on Monday.

undone

On top of all of the OTHER stresses I have in my life, there is the FAMILY things that are happening.  One of which is my brother's marriage.  You may ask WHY I have anything to do with this?  I would ask that question as well.


When they were first married, some 20 years ago, they had a HUGE blow up; a fight of EPIC proportions.  And my brother came home to live with my Mom.  He told the story to anyone who would listen.  He told of how HORRIBLE his wife was; and how she had abused their trust, and nullified their marriage vows. In short, he made sure that everyone in the family was ON HIS SIDE of the argument.


And then they got back together.  And the rest of us were left with resentment and bitter feelings.  While they were making sweet love, the rest of us were sucking lemons.  And swallowing.  Ten months later, a sweet angel was born.  She was truly our little miracle. 


It was hard to accept the SIL after everything my brother had shared.  But we did.  She was, after all, the mother of my niece, and my brother's beloved wife.  I have grown to love her as a sister.  She is always there for me.  It would be only natural that she would THINK I would be there for her too.


Except for one thing.


I don't think that married women (or even married men, for that matter) should share the intimate personal details of their marriage (good or bad) with people who are close to them. OK, maybe there are SOME things that CAN BE shared.  BUT... there are some things that should NOT. 

• I don't want to know if my brother is verbally abusive.  THIS is something I cannot fix.
• I don't want to know that his fights with a few of his children have become shoving matches. Shoving matches between a child and a father? THAT is something I want to fix.  Again.  I cannot.
• I don't want to know about him throwing things and breaking things.
• I don't want to hear about him yelling.  or stomping out of the house. or driving off in a rage.
• I don't want to hear that he gets on the phone with a buddy and jokes about his 8 year old son being GAY; joking where the 8 year old can hear him.
• I certainly don't want to know that he interrogates the 18 year old after EVERY date she goes on... asking completely inappropriate and PERSONAL questions about what happened on said date.  For hours at a time.  Is it any wonder that this child doesn't WISH to date anyone?   

I do not think my brother is the only one who has problems. Oh no. I know that my SIL does too.  She is not blameless in all of this.  But to hear my brother tell the story, she is whacked out on drugs (really?), has multiple personalities (looked in the mirror much buddy?) and is generally abusive to all children (this person who runs a Day Care out of her home and is scrutinized by County agencies? OK....).  Yes, she spends too much of their hard-earned money.  I would too, if it gave me a few fleeting moments of pleasure; pleasure that my marriage does not give me. She tells me that he has ALWAYS had these problems.  OK. Then why did you continue to make babies with this man?  Why didn't you RUN from the angry outbursts when you had the chance, some 19 years ago?  Like... BEFORE the babies started coming?

Sadly enough, I am planted firmly in her camp.  And my mother is planted firmly in my brother's camp.  We have agreed to disagree.  Then again, she does not know the THINGS that I KNOW.  When my SIL told me the things listed above (and more... OH SO MUCH MORE), I decided NOT to share them with Mom.  And I forbade HER from sharing them with Mom too.  She cannot take it right now.

And neither can I.  One of the hardest things I have EVER had to do, was look her in the eyes and say, "SIL, I can't hear any of this anymore.  I am too emotionally undone to hear any more of these stories.  I KNOW you need to tell someone; to share the burden with someone.  I am NOT that person.  I cannot be that person right now.  I am sorry.  I just can't."

The look in her eyes nearly killed me.  If I hadn't been on the Lorazepam, I would have crumbled into a puddle and cried.  I could see how hurt she was. Of course I explained what was happening to me.  She understood then.  

She is seeking help as well.  Therapy has been procured for the SIL and the children.  Incidents have occurred where the police have been called.  Child Protective Services has become involved.  A lawyer has been consulted.  My brother will likely be asked to move out. 

My mother knows very little of all of this.

The 8 year old posts to Facebook: "Ugh. Another fight with my Dad. I wish life were easier."

And THAT... undid me.  

lists... i make them

So, I think I had a *melt-down* on Thursday.  At least, that is what I would call it.  I began to cry around 1:30-2:00-ish... and didn't stop completely until after 8PM.  I guess I'd had enough.  Enough of what? you might ask.  Enough.  Of everything.  EVERYTHING.

Here are some of the things on my mind this day, as I am on a doctor mandated SICK day to get my feet back underneath me (and as I wait for my first appointment with a Psychologist):

• the coworker tapping
• the coworker that was seen digging in someone else's purse and is STILL working there. 
• the fact that i have to LOCK my desk EVERY TIME I leave it, for fear of him digging through my purse.
• the inane insane ridiculous asinine phone calls from the other department - asking me to give them information I do not have, nor do I need.  If they need it, shouldn't they be calling the people who supply that information?
• the rush Rush RUSHING I am expected to do.  without any break in the work load.
• the new STUFF that Upper Management (UM) comes up with.  Stuff that we are supposed to accept without question.  Stuff that sounds good on paper, but when it comes down to being USER FRIENDLY... well it fails in major ways.
• the lack of training for such pet projects.  Three months in and I STILL don't know how or why?
• the general lack of common courtesy in my workplace.
• the lack of direction from our supervisor
• the lack of understanding from her too. (and she has been in our shoes!)
• the FORMS (!!!) that have to filled out for every task we do.  (again, the pet project of UM!)
• coworkers that pretend to have your best interests in mind, then leave little treats at your desk, knowing full well you will eat them and suffer the consequences.
• having to pull my own files, while the file room staff works on yet ANOTHER pet project of UM.
• seeing the file room staff prepare fancy coffees for staff  when there is perfectly GOOD coffee in the break room that anyone can enjoy for FREE!
• knowing that while they are supposed to be working on that project, they are really walking back and forth from the kitchen, making the fancy coffees, when they COULD BE helping me pull my files!  (ohIMUSTblogaboutTHISlater!)

I know that ANY job I would go to would have these (or similar) problems to endure.  And endure I must.  Usually I would be ABLE to handle all of this.  I'm a big girl.  I handle stress.  I thought I handled it pretty well.

It's just that all of the above was combined with OTHER stresses.  Family stresses.  My own personal crap (oh yes! I have CRAP!).  The death of my father - which (who knew?) has caused me some anxiety in ways I could not have imagined.  And watching my Mother as she watches HER mother (my Grandma) slowly fade away.  It's all very stressful for me.

I'm certain that it will all work itself out.  I am seeking help.  I will heal.  I will be back to my strong, silly, sarcastic and witty self.

Soon.  

demons, demands and daydreaming

Where should I begin?

July 2010 was quite possibly the most stressful month of my life to date. At least that's how it felt. Work was extremely busy (which has become the rule and not the exception).  My moods were swinging wildly (not an exaggeration at all).  All I wanted to do was daydream, plan cruises, think about renovations, and play games (can you say ESCAPE from REALITY?).

To put my finger on the WHAT that is making work so stressful is hard.  I have (for the past 5 years or so) always been the person that gets assigned the work that requires more intense thought.  There is more room for error when working on things that are outside of the norm.  I am completely aware of the fact that if errors are made, management will notice.  It's hard to remain calm and confident, when the person requiring your finished product changes his mind daily; or goes on a week's vacation and is unavailable to answer your questions.  It's nearly impossible to create a finished product that is praiseworthy, when the procedures are changed at a moment's notice, and no one tells you.  And when they do tell you, it's too late to do things in a timely manner... your turn-around window is GONE.  *sigh*  I don't expect you to understand.  It's my world.  The world that I live in.  And I need my job.

Most of the time I would tell you that the variety of what I do, is why I like what I do.  Because most of the time ~ I do LOVE what I do.  It is never the same thing over and over.  It's different.  Every day. Most of the time I can handle the fluctuations of the job.  I can handle the snippy comments of those I work with.  I can tolerate the idiocy of the people around me.  This month?  I felt the strings of sanity slipping away. (OK that sounds worse that it really is... I am NOT going insane.)(I hope.)

Bright spot on the horizon?  They WILL be hiring another person.  Soon.  OH MY GOD!  I am so beyond happy about that... I might cry.  Right now.  At my laptop.  I'll probably be the one that gets to do the training.  Hopefully we get a half-way decent processor.  There are a few people in the department that might want to move over to our area. (Should I inflict this pain on someone I like? or warn them away? Tough choice.)

When pushed to the limit on the commuter train; when they tried to shove eleven passenger cars of people into five?  On a hot day? At the end of a long and stressful day?  And I had to stand next to THE MOST OBNOXIOUS woman on this planet we call EARTH? (I know this woman - and I do not like her at all.)  We are packed like sardines and she begins calling, loudly, for the bartender. She was probably three people away from me; far enough away that she could hear me, but not close enough to slug me.  When she said, "Bartender, where's my martini?"  I said (out loud - oh my!), "In your system with the other 4 you finished before you got on this train?"  She turned and said, "What?  What did you say?"  I pretended to not notice her at all.  But when she turned back to the person on her right to make more loud comments, I said aloud, "Lush."  I was shocked and appalled by my behavior.  That's not like Lovely Rita.  That's what sealed it for me.  That is when I knew for sure.

I've been in this place before.  I've been angry and weepy and moody.  It's depression; mild, but depression nonetheless.  I recognize it.  It's trying to take me down.  So far, I am OK.  I recognize what it is... and so far, I am winning the battle.  I am trying to sleep more.  I have improved my diet.  I have even taken some good walks in the evening.  I plan on taking more.  I will beat these demons. And I will probably scream a lot here... and purge my every dark thought.  Or.  I will just talk about what MIGHT be bothering me.  Or.  Both.

it's all about "ME" right now...

I thought that it was common sense.

When one of your employees comes to you, visibly upset, in crisis mode, beyond words to express how angry she is at the "way things are"... it's really NOT the time to tell her the following things:

• Things are only going to get worse, because there are some CHANGES coming; changes that she has fought against because it will make our job more difficult than EVER.
• There are no plans to hire ANYONE else, even though our workload has doubled in the last year.
• "YOU take things too personally.  Let it roll off your back."

I am tired.  If I didn't need the health care, and well... a JOB... I would drive far away and stay there.

dark places

I know you.


We've met before. I didn't like you then. I don't like you now.

I wish you would go away and leave me alone.

I don't have time to play in your dark garden; nor do I want to spend time with your friends, Sad and Lonely.

I don't want to allow you close enough that you grab hold of me with your cold hard hands. Around you there is no light, no happy, no goodness. Around you is only darkness.

Associating with you makes me angry. Allowing you into my life causes me pain, and bitterness.

Please go away.

I don't like who I am when you are around.

Leave me alone.

Go away.

Just.  GO.

bereft

Looking back, I sensed it was coming. His calls were hours late. He almost completely blew off my birthday. He'd made lame excuses for not coming by. For a man who spent all of his free time at my apartment, these new developments were telling.

His telephone call "I think we should see other people." took all of the air from my lungs. I was... there is no word for how it made me feel. I choked out, "Why?" and he coldly said he would call me, and we would get together soon, to discuss it.

A roommate found me crumpled on the floor in the kitchen, still clinging to the telephone receiver, sobbing silently. He'd hung up after my first sob.

For days I would call in sick to work - moving from my bedroom to eat, only to remember how he no longer wanted me. I'd rush to the bathroom to throw up any food that might have made it's way into my poor body.

I sat on my bed and stared out the window.

The only energy I spent was to run and answer the phone. But that was a waste of energy.

I heard a roommate in the other room, "She needs to know why. You need to help her move on with her life." She was so worried about me, she'd called him herself. Still, he didn't give me an explanation, no promised meeting, no closure.

After a few weeks, when my feet were back underneath me, albeit shakily at best, the roommates took me out to a friends house for a party. I may have actually been having a good time. But after a while, and some whispering amongst the other guests, he walked in. He walked in with a woman on his arm. A friend of mine. Someone I had introduced him to. On his arm. In his arms. Where I was not.

To act like nothing was wrong, when all eyes were on me, was nearly impossible. But I did it. Probably not well, but I did it. The friends, they rallied around me, whispering encouragement and trying to make me smile.

Over the coming months, I told myself, over and over, that it would be OK.  And eventually it was. 

Many months later,when we eventually DID talk about the break up (the whys and all of the other things that went with it) I learned so much about this man that I thought I knew so well. The pain was still there, of course, but it was mixed with a sense of wonder.  How could I have fallen so deeply in love with someone I knew so little about?

When I look back on our time together; when I take those memories out and examine them - I feel a change come over me. My rough edges become softened with tender thoughts of that man. There is a warm glow that envelopes my heart.  I have to honestly say that I am glad for all of it; the good times and the bad. 

I am grateful that he recognized that we were NOT right for each other; that he knew it was best to break my heart.

tap tap... anyone there?

The young gentleman sitting near me (not the work boyfriend - that's another story for another day) has an interesting habit of tapping. As he walks to the printer (just outside of my cubicle) he taps the metal casing around my cubicle entrance. On the way back to his desk, he taps it again.

It's not just *tap*. It's *tap TAP*; with gusto!

A few months have gone by since I was first moved to this cubicle, and I thought (silly me - thinking again!) I might get used to it. Sadly, it's just becoming more and more annoying. And kind of nerve racking.

When I asked him about it... he feigned ignorance. "Do you REALLY not know that you tap?" I asked incredulously.

"I tap?" he said sarcastically.

"Yep." I answered firmly. And just five minutes later I pointed it out when he did it. "See?!?!?!! You TAP!"

"I'll try to watch out for that... and stop." he said with laughter in his voice.

*tap TAP* *tap TAP* *tap TAP* *tap TAP* *tap TAP* *tap TAP* *tap TAP* *tap TAP* *tap TAP* *tap TAP* *tap TAP* *tap TAP* *tap TAP* *tap TAP* *tap TAP* *tap TAP*

Apparently stopping is not going to happen.

town hall meeting

About once a quarter, there is a Town Hall Meeting at work. This is where management goes over the results of employee surveys. It is where they go over initiatives to make things better for all of us; where they reward us for jobs well done. There is an agenda, and the usual power point presentations to go along with it.

At the beginning of the meeting, as the emcee was giving us the agenda, he told us we would be viewing a video from YouTube. There would probably be some trouble with the audio... but he was going to try to make it so we could watch it.

Yadda, yadda, yadda, meeting meeting meeting.

It came time to show the video. Again, it was announced that it MIGHT be hard to hear. He apologized for this, but assured us, if we were really quiet and listened, it was worth it.

He started the video. And said again, that we would need to be quiet... as the volume was up all the way. He proceeded to sit down... and almost immediately, someone from right behind me, said, "Can you turn up the volume please?"

really?

Other than this... the meeting was informative and interesting.

And they gave us some good shit stuff. (I got a gift certificate to In and Out Burgers, and a logo branded water sippy bottle.)

hi-brow

I have been blessed with a wonderful mix of genes (oh, can you hear the sarcasm in that statement?). From my father, I received the blonde eyebrow gene. Never mind that the rest of my hair, while blonde (almost white) when young, has turned to a dull shade of medium brown. My eyebrows stayed the same blonde color.

If you add in that from my mother I got wispy little wings of eyebrows... ugh. You really have to get up close and LOOK, to see my actual eyebrows. I have thought of dying them... but ... HELLO! there is not much hair there to dye.

A year or so ago, I was at Ulta to buy an eyebrow pencil. (I at least TRY to make them visible.) A make-up artist (a gentleman) approached me. We had a conversation about my eyebrows. He asked if I had ever thought of getting them tattooed on.

"Never!" I answered. [which is not exactly true. I have considered it. Briefly. But tattoos HURT... or so I've been told. And plus, there is that fact that...] "At some point I may want to have a face lift. Can you imagine? I would have a perpetually surprised look on my face!"

Well... you would have thought that I had said the funniest thing on this planet. The make-up guy laughed and laughed and laughed some more. Then he hooted and laughed, and snorted and guffawed. I started to feel uncomfortable.

Fast forward to a conversation on morning break; just two months ago. The girls and I were discussing tattoos, and IF we would ever consider getting them. Sally said, "I want to get my eyebrows done." I told my story (see above). Edna and Sally (my morning break mates) laughed and laughed and laughed some more. They had never thought of this. They thanked me for telling them.

Imagine my surprise when just five days later, Edna comes in to the office with her eyebrows tattooed on.

Badly.

Crookedly.

And such. A. Bad. Color.

Horrible.

Really.

So I guess the story-telling thing...? It's not taken very seriously. I people just think of my funny stories as, well... funny stories. And not words of wisdom.

[btw... the INK faded a bit.. which helps the fact that one of Edna's eyebrows is higher than the other; and that one of them is further to the left than the other.]

[if it were me, i would sue that tattoo artist (artist? butcher is more like it!).]

a kiss of memory

I was sitting in the courtyard at work, eating my lunch and listening to the sounds of the nearby fountain and the birds singing. Perhaps it was the warmth of the sun that triggered the memory. I have no idea. But once it surfaced... it hit me hard.

It was our second date. I can't even recall now what we did that night. But the evening was over, and we were reluctant to part. We sat in his VW Beetle and held hands. He would trail his fingers up and down the softer inner side of my arm. The thought of that still makes me shiver.

There was very little talking. We were comfortable in the silence of the night. But I could tell he was nervous about something. I remember thinking, "He needs to kiss me." I kept looking into his eyes... thinking that surely he would read the wanting there.

Because we both worked early the next day, the night needed to end. We made our way to the front porch. He stopped and tugged on my arm gently. I turned to look at him. "Rita." he breathed. "I really need to kiss you. Is that OK?"

I remember laughing, and snuggling up to him. Tipping my head back, I whispered, "What took you so long to decide this?"

He actually tried to answer my question. But his tongue got all tied up. I laughed again. I placed my hands on his face, looked into his eyes, and whispered, "It is VERY OK with me."

The kiss was as wonderful as I thought it would be. I felt the electricity all the way down to my toes. As I melted into him, I realized that we fit perfectly together. It was a powerful moment for me.

Sitting here on the porch with my laptop, I can see the spot where this kiss took place. It's one of my favorite spots in the yard. Not only because of the view of the garden from there... but because it is where I experienced that First Magical Kiss with that man.

I've had time today to think about that time of my life. My relationship with him changed me forever. It taught me so much about myself; about the powers and responsibilities that women have. I learned about the fragility of egos and the need to nurture and strengthen your partner. There are so many lessons learned; things that have served me well over the years.

Good things. Special things. Important things.

I'm thinking I should take out these memories, and dust them off more often.

imbalanced

The following was just emailed to everyone in the building, from the facilities manager:

A black high heeled shoe was found outside of the Southwest entrance of the building. This can be picked up at the receptionist desk on the 2nd floor.

So... hobble on up to the 2nd floor and retrieve your shoe, young lady.

the post where Rita swears... (fair warning)

After all of the ranting and raving that went on yesterday; after all of my stern voiced protestations; after finally sending him what he wanted (via an email stating why it was outside of our policy to do so - copied to my boss [who, btw TOLD me to send him what he wanted] and his) - he has the audacity to send an email back with this message?

"Thanks, that was easy." 

What the FUCK is THAT about? 
Of all the arrogant assinine assholedness... OMG!  I am pissed. 

I can feel the knot growing in between my shoulder blades... reaching up into my neck region. 

Are we in Junior High?  Do I NEED to get emails of this nature? 

ugh.    (at least it's Friday.)

beaten and bruised

My job is not physical in any way.  I essentially SIT at a desk and use the computer.  I review files. I compile data. I analyse the information given to me.  I type documents.  I am sedentary.   The most exercise my job affords me is running to the photocopier/scanner or schlepping files to and from the file room or walking back and forth from meetings.  There is the commute every day.  The climbing up into the train, and the getting off at my station.  There's a long walk across the parking lot, and the occasional dash when I'm late.

Taking all of this into consideration... why do I feel so bruised and battered, and yes, even beaten, when I get home?  I am, quite often, left feeling completely stripped of everything good and lovely.  Tonight I am feeling that way.  Raw and wounded.  Frustrated and angry.  Tired and tearful.  I want nothing more than to lay down on the floor and sob.

Really...?

I love to receive phone calls from the OTHER department.  When I send my work there, I can count on Molasses (code name - she's slower than) giving me a ring; looking for one thing or another.  Most of the time I can point her in the right direction.  Yes, the information is right there in front of her... but she is too lazy or stupid to LOOK for it.  So.. she calls.  I point. 

Yesterday she called and asked for something completely out of the ordinary; something that is not contained within our procedures.  She was asking for something that made no sense AT ALL to me.  To get her off my line and the sound of her voice out of my ears, I agreed to pull the file and look into what it was she was asking for.  Then I called her supervisor. 

I repeated the conversation verbatim.  Then I paraphrased in my own interpretation.  Her supervisor confirmed.  Yes, they did need that information.  I reviewed the written procedure surround this type of transaction.  When I found it lacking instructions on what they wanted me to do, went to MY supervisor.

Let me make something very clear.  What they were asking me to provide them with... made NO SENSE to me at all.  BUT... I don't know everything (truly - I don't!).. so I gave them the benefit of the doubt.

My supervisor was more dumbfounded by the request than I was.  BUT, she always has a good plan... this time was no different.  She had me forward Molasses' email to her, explaining what I was being asked to do, AND to point out that the procedures say nothing about providing the OTHER department with this information.  I was to copy Molasses' supervisor on the email.

Ten minutes later we had an email back from the OTHER department's supervisor.  Surprise!  NO action was needed on our part.

I want someone to give me back the hour I lost chasing around over this.  Sad thing is ... it happens nearly every day.  I wonder how much longer Molasses is gonna have her job?

Super powers?

Note to self:

• add "Mind Reader" to resume.

Apparently this is in my job description, and not only am I expected to do it, it's generally accepted that I have been doing so for some time.  So let me not go against the system here.  Effective immediately ~~~ it's on the RESUME.

Oh.
 
And if you are around me while I am *on the job*.... watch what you are thinking.  Because I WILL KNOW.

[::eyeroll:: @ computer tech guy - I know my ass is big, you twit... but you watch my hips sway all the time.  BIG ain't always BAD.] 

fumigation and other fluff

They decided to fumigate in the night.  But nobody thought to protect the dozens of tea bags and coffee cups in the convenience center?  The stirrers, packets of sugar, napkins, etc. are still sitting out from yesterday.  Are they contaminated?  Can we use them?  People are in a panic. 

And building management has decided that it's ONLY our employees that are eating in the newly rennovated lobby; where eating is now forbidden.  How have they identified them as OURS?  Perhaps....

• they weren't smoking?
• they were fully dressed?
• they weren't cussing on their cell phones?
• they had manners?
• their arms (and neck and any other visible skin) weren't covered in tattoos?

Just another day in the neighborhood.

Clap happy

This afternoon was no different from any other.  At precisely 3PM, a co-worker started clapping his hands loudly; and I mean LOUDLY.  Sharp, fast claps that rattle bones and jangle nerves.  He only does three to five claps... but he does it every day.

No one says anything.  Nobody (that I have heard) ever questions him.  At 3PM he claps.  Then he resumes his work routine.

What the heck?

I asked another worker if she understood the clapping.  Her answer was assumption only... "I think he just gets overwhelmed and tired, and must feel the need to release the tension."

OK then.

Incredulous

Recently I was moved to another cubicle at work.  While I do feel a bit isolated from my *group*, it has been a good experience for me, and I can tell it's going to work out just fine.  At least, that is what I was thinking until late last month.

One morning, while walking through the department to my new desk, I happened across what can only be described as a CRIME.  That's right, I stumbled upon one male co-worker (Perp) at a female co-worker's (Victim) desk.  But he wasn't just standing there, oh no!  He was hunched over an open desk drawer.  And his hands were BOTH inside this woman's purse! Yes! Inside her purse.

Well, color me startled.  Actually, I was beyond startled.  I was shocked!

Of course he stiffened up; as any guilty person would do when caught red-handed.  I, on the other hand, was cool and collected and kept on walking.  Upon reaching my cubicle, I had to take deep breaths and decide WHAT TO DO!!!

Certainly I needed to report this crime.  But did I warn the purse OWNER?  I decided I needed to.  Knowing that she was in the break room (and if I knew, the Perp probably did too!), I made my way there to enlighten her.  I explained to her what I saw.  I think she must have thought I was crazy.  Because she didn't seem to be very upset by my news.  Really?  This does NOT bother you at all?

Back at my desk, a few minutes later, I heard Victim confront him.  "Perp, what were you doing in my desk drawer in my purse?"

His response was rapid.  No denial.  Just, "Who would tell you such a thing?"  (correct me if I am wrong, but doesn't that SEEM a bit guilty too?)

He had an answer for all of her questions.  I knew what I had to do.  I had to tell someone.  With my Supervisor on vacation, and her Supervisor off-sight, I went to HIS Supervisor.  What else could I do?

She believed me.  And apparently, she was not shocked.  She assured me that this situation would not be overlooked.  That something would be done. Later in the day, other management, including my off-sight manager, were either dropping by my desk, or calling me, to ask, "Are you OK?"

Let me tell you, this ROCKED my world, and not in a good way.  Seeing this man rifling through someone else's belongings changed the way I feel about my office; the place where I spend most of my life!!   Now I am locking up my purse.  Now I am constantly reminded that anything on my desk is fair game to someone who has no scruples.  I am frightened too.  Because NOT ONLY did I SEE this man, in what I can only assume was his attempt at stealing money, but HE SAW ME SEEING HIM.  And if there are reprimands handed down, he will know that I told...  I don't know why this bothers me, except that I no longer trust my work to protect me from harm... as there is now a THIEF among us.

While I wait for the other shoe to drop... I am anxious.

I don't like to feel anxious.  Not at all.