Well, after much agitation, and inner turmoil, I did it. I decided to post for the new position at the Gas ‘n Sip. I don’t know if anything will come of it – the wheels move glacially here – but I feel better knowing that I have stopped feeling the victim, and taken the step to doing something about it.
I also took the step of letting my manager know what I’ve done. I don’t know what I expected, but what I got was “Ok. Thanks for letting me know.”
Either way, I do know that the disparity of my situation was making me short-tempered and resentful and preventing me from doing my best work. And that is not okay. I am better than that. My employer deserves better from me. And hopefully, this step will help me to do better.
I’ll keep you posted.
As I was thinking about this post, it sounded somewhat familiar to me. I may have written something like this before; I don’t know. I started looking back through old posts, but whatever. If you’ve seen this before, feel free to move along.
*****
I think the time has finally come to face reality.
The Gas ‘n Sip has won. I have lost.
They have won the war. They have successfully beaten me down to the breaking point, and beyond.
I’m officially waving the white flag, crying “Uncle” and I’m ready to sign peace treaties.
I just cannot do this. Anymore.
If you know me at all, you know that I like to laugh – even while at work. I think it’s important to have fun at what you are doing. But at the same time, I would describe myself as being incredibly conscientious and motivated to do a good job. I *want* things to go well. I *want* projects to succeed. If I’m researching a new Slurpee flavor, I want to make sure that what I provide reflects the care and thought that went in to making that available. I get extraordinarily frustrated when others don’t have the same drive. Or when, just before I put up the “New Flavor” sign, they throw in some sort of curve ball to change, delay, or otherwise screw up what I have worked so hard on.
I will fight and stand up for my opinions, but at some point it’s better to just agree.
Before I went on vacation, I was a colossal bitch. I know I was. And I was looking forward to the week off to sort of smooth some ruffled feathers and come back ready to go.
And then I came back.
Within 4 hours of my return? I had cried twice.
The Zen place I had been when I walked through the door? Gone.
The knots in my shoulders were back. My upset stomach was back. My exhaustion and all around ill-humor were both back.
In the week I was gone, my new Slurpee flavor project fell apart. The players had changed. The focus had changed. And once again, every conversation became a battle. Instead of working together to resolve, there was a huge amount of time spent on finger-pointing. Blaming. There may as well have been hair-pulling. It was just that bad. Something I submitted *3 WEEKS AGO* to make the new flavor a particular shade of red WAS STILL SITTING THERE, and yet somehow, it is my fault that the request is not done yet.
And while there is some benefit on looking back to what we could have done differently, addressing the problem at hand and moving past it seems to me to be a better course of action. I’m just spit-balling here, so who knows.
So this morning, after yet another round of “You suck. You screwed up. We can’t release this on time because you did/didn’t/should have/shouldn’t have…”, I am officially, but not irreparably, broken.
I’m 45 years old (tomorrow). (Yes, happy birthday to ME!) 🙂
I cannot work another 20+ years in this state of mind. I just cannot do it.
With that in mind, and to quote Mike Dooley, thoughts become things. I am going to put my request out to the Universe right here and invite the Universe to help. me. out.
I want a new career.
I want it to be creative, and fun, and growth-oriented, and educational, and altruistic, and generally just ADD to the world around me. I want to read books, and enjoy the sunshine, and be encouraged to take my vacation days. I want to make money that appropriately takes in to account my education, my work ethic, and my skills. I want to work with people who are encouraging and interesting and who challenge me to be a better person. I want to be able to challenge others to be better people too. I want to work with people who can learn from each other and who all want the same end result.
I would love to be a professional organizer – but not one of those people who tackle hoarders. I couldn’t do that. *shudder*
I would love to be an editor. Or a proofreader. Or a book reviewer.
I would love to be an event planner. Or a personal shopper. Or a writer. Or a painter. Or a professional sit-on-the-beach-and-count-grains-of-sand-er.
I want to look forward to my day and my projects and not look at the clock and think “Oh, dear goat. It’s only noon?!?!” I want to get up in the morning with the joyful anticipation of what I can bring to the table and put out into the world. And I want to go to bed each night thinking about all that I have done that day and all that I *get* to do tomorrow. (Not that I *have* to do. Big difference.)
I want to work in a place where a budget needs to be filled out once, not in 3 different place. Where status updates are given once, not 5+ times. Where EVERY. SINGLE. DECISION. does not require 5+ conference calls to make. Meetings at a table in a coffee shop? Sure!
So, Universe, what do you say? I know that there are jobs out there that fit my criteria. I know there are. If you want me to move to another state or country? I’m in. If you want me to sell my beautiful little doll house? I’ll do it. If you want me to look in certain areas? Send me a sign.
I’m ready to do this. And to do it in a big, big way.
(Also? If anyone reading this knows of something that might kinda sorta fit the bill? Let me know. It just means the Universe was waiting for me to say this out loud, so to speak.)
I don’t want to be broken any more.
A few months back, I ran out of coffee in my house and, displaying the height of laziness, I didn’t go buy more. After going through the caffeine detox, I decided to not drink caffeine anymore. The headaches are excruciating and I didn’t want to go through that again.
Since then, I have been caffeine free.
All of this is another step towards removing chemicals from my house and life.
So, what’s my point?
Today, I was getting a cup of decaf and chatting with a colleague about random stuff. She commented that decaf wasn’t going to help me. So I told her I didn’t drink caffeine. To which she said, “Well, do you still eat chocolate? There is caffeine in chocolate. You aren’t really caffeine free.”
Really? Why do people do that?
The same thing happens when I mention I am trying to cut out sugar. Heaven help me if I don’t say “processed” sugar. Because then it’s “Well, are you going to give up fruit? There’s a ton of sugar in fruit, you know.”
My friend Debra wrote about something similar not too long ago. Her story is different, and yet, the same.
Why do people do that? Why do they feel the need to make comments like that or minimize what you are trying to do or somehow act as if they are superior to you in some way?
I’m not asking them to cut out caffeine. I’m not asking them to cut out sugar, processed or otherwise. I am simply minding my own business and taking care of my own self. I don’t judge them for eating their can of soup which likely contains enough salt to satisfy a week’s worth of requirements. I did the same thing a few weeks back. The can of soup I had was beyond salty. Horrible stuff.
And people wonder why I don’t like to “share” at work. The Gas ‘n Sip is a very judgy place. I’m judgy enough towards myself; I don’t need your judgement on top of it.
Do people do this to you? Do you have a good response for a comment like that?
It’s December. 2011 has just flown by!! I’m already looking ahead to 2012.
About this time last year, I was on top of my game – feeling good and ready to make 2011 my bitch! I started the year that way too. But then, as the year progressed, I slipped back into my old ruts and habits. My word for the year was Kind. But regressing back to self-destructive behavior isn’t very kind, is it?
I was kind to others. I was kinder to myself than I had been in years past. But I’m still a work in progress.
As I look to 2012, the word that keeps coming up for me is Wellness. I know some people won’t understand that I need to take care of myself. Since I’m single and have no kids, what else am I doing? How can I *not* be taking care of myself? Right? Well, in 2012, that is my focus.
How, you ask?
1. I’ve already started eliminating beauty products with chemicals in them. My goal by the end of the year, is to use homemade or organic products only.
2. My job at the Gas ‘n Sip – I will either get a new job or get promoted. Either way, by the end of the year, I will be in a different job.
2a. I reached my absolute limit at the Gas ‘n Sip Monday. Background: You already know I am the Slurpee Manager. However, there is an exam to become certified in Slurpee creation. I have been working towards this certification for years – it’s a combination of education and hours. You have to spend a certain number of hours making Slurpees before you can take the certification exam. I? Have completed all the prerequisites and now I just have to take it. But here’s the thing. The exam is ridiculously difficult. So, in order to help the Slurpee Managers at the Gas ‘n Sip pass the exam first try, the company is hosting a prep class. YAY! The class is being held in another state. BOO! My manager said I could go. YAY! But her manager said it was too expensive to send me there. BOO! What the phuck??????? Am I so dispensable? You can’t send me to a class to advance my career? I was so pissed. I am pretty defeated.
2b. I spent Monday evening stewing and not sleeping and feeling like a loser. But then? I got up on Tuesday, and turned on the radio, like I do every morning. The song playing was that woman screeching “You are loved, you are loved, you are really really reeeeeeeeeeeeally looooooooooooved.” You know the one I mean. The Universe has spoken. I stopped and listened. And then I realized, Slurpee Manager is what I do, not who I am. I have been beaten by them for the last time. If they don’t want to send me to a prep class? I’ll send myself to a prep class. I *will* get certified. And then #2 will be realized.
3. By the end of the year, I will have all but eliminated processed food from my diet. I can’t promise to give up pizza, because, c’mon. It’s pizza! I’m human, not a robot.
4. I won’t quit the group I joined. I still think it’s a tough group to get into, but everyone is so nice and I totally support what they do, so I’m going to tough it out. It’s worth it.
There will be more that I will add to this list before the end of the year. I may have slid downhill a bit this year, but I plan to keep trying. 2012 will help me regain that ground and move ahead again.
So, yeah.
You go to work everyday, dreading it.
While at work, you find yourself crying, at least once a week.
After 2 weeks vacation, you head back to work and the second day back, you wonder if you can call in sick without getting fired.
You know that continually bitching about the situation is not at all helpful, so you keep it all inside.
You have your resume out on the interwebs on every. single. job-related website you can find, but don’t have any bites yet.
You have applied for no less than 25 new positions, internally, and have heard ABSO-PHUCKING-LUTELY nothing on any of them. Yet they claim that they are Pro-Employee and help employees with career development. AND! If they treat actual employees this way, how do they treat potential employees?? (Go ahead and ponder. I’ll wait.)
You are well aware that the job market blows right now, so you should be thankful you even have a job.
You know that you are NOT what you do, but you are so desperately unhappy at your job that you don’t know which way to turn.
You know that changing jobs will not necessarily, nor magically, improve your happiness. But you want to try because staying here won’t help it either.
You know that you choose your happiness but you can’t find even that one thread to hang on to.
You aren’t suicidal, but your doctor thinks you might be.
Yeah. That.
Have you ever gone to see a Notary Public? You know, when you need your signature verified – you might need a notarized copy of something? I’m a Notary. It’s not hard to become one. And normally I don’t even consider it to be a big deal. Until…
Monday last, after my latest trip to Canadia, I was back in the office, thinking about how much I wished I was somewhere, anywhere, else. Then the local Director of Foreign Affairs asked if he could talk to me in the conference room. My first thought? “Oh, goat. Now what??”
The DFA never, NEVER, talks about his personal life at work. Ever. So we sit down and he says, “You may know that I got divorced 5 years ago.” No, how would I know. YOU NEVER TALK ABOUT YOURSELF. He went on: “I have been with my girlfriend for about a year and a half and we are getting married.” Me: Okay. Congratulations? Him: “You are a Notary, right?” Me: OMG! Can I marry you?? Him: “That’s what I was hoping you would do. It will be a very small ceremony. It will be at ___ hotel, then we’ll have champagne. No one here knows.”
Side note: only 3 states allow their Notaries to perform marriage ceremonies. I happen to live in one of them.
What happened next? In true MagandMoo fashion, I proceeded to freak out. Why? Because this is a HUGE event in someone’s life and what if I screw up? I knew that this was in no way about me. At all. But I kept thinking that if I didn’t do a good job, the focus would then shift to me and take it from the bride. I didn’t want that. It was their day. I was just given the honor of being a part of it.
I found some non-religious based vows online and made a few tweaks to them. Then I printed them out so that I could practice on the cats. (They were so no interested.)
So, yesterday, I went to ___ hotel at the appropriate time. I was the first one there – which was fine, because I totally thought I would be late. The DFA and his friends showed up and proceeded to give everyone a glass of cognac. At 10am. Sure. Why not.
Everyone milled around a bit for about 30 minutes. Then we hear the elevator ding, and the bride was there. We got into position and the bride came in – so lovely, so young, so giggly – in a beautiful dress, elbow length gloves, hair all pretty.
After I read the first part of what I had down-loaded, I looked at the groom – normally very serious and business-like at work. He had tears in his eyes. It was so sweet. So touching. And I knew I had found the right things to say.
We did the intentions portion. Then the exchange of rings. The groom started cheering. I had to stop him to get to the part of “You may kiss your bride”. She kept giggling.
The whole ceremony took about 15 minutes. It was his 2nd wedding, but her first. She looked so happy. Even the DFA looked happier than I have ever seen him. There were lots and lots of photos – I believe I was fortunate to avoid most – if not all – of the lenses. I was hugged and thanked and told it was an honor that I had done this thing for them. But to me? *I* was the one honored to have been part of it. No one else from the Gas ‘n Sip was there. And I can’t tell anyone! It’s not my story to tell.
When I got my Notary license, I always thought it would be fun to marry people. But then when the time came? I really *got* what a big deal this was. I was able to make this young bride’s dream come true. I changed the lives of these 2 people. Forever.
I don’t know if this union will last – I hope it does. They are certainly adorable together. But I do know that I will forever thank them for granting me the honor of being a part of their day in such a personal way.
So what did you do this weekend?
Oh, hello. Have a finger sandwich.
I had every intention of continuing the 30 Days of Truth today.
But I just found out that the 5-year-old daughter of a coworker passed away yesterday. And my heart is broken for the family.
I follow people on Twitter who have lost children, and recognized the tragedy of the situation. But I don’t “know” those people and that made it so easy to go on, unaffected. Actually knowing, and interacting, with the parent that has the horror of burying one of their children makes it so much more real. So much more horrible.
I don’t have kids. So I will never *really* know the depth of love and attachment that parents have for their kids. I can try to imagine it, but I recognize that even my imagination will never come close.
So, my dear coworker, my heart and thoughts go out to you today. I will forever be in awe of your strength for going on after this unimaginable tragedy. I wish there was some way to make it “better”, but there isn’t. You are now forever changed and your world will likely never be as bright.
And to all of those I follow on Twitter, and anyone else, who have had the unfortunate experience of this, know that I now will not read your story and move on, unaffected. I will recognize that your world, too, is forever broken. And while you may go on, I know that it will never be exactly right again.
Oh, hello! Come on in and have some iced tea.
There’s something wrong with me. Mentally. I’m convinced of it. Someone here at the Gas ‘n Sip just invited me to his child’s first birthday party. I almost started crying.
This is strange for many reasons.
- Crying? Really?
- I don’t enjoy children, typically.
- I don’t enjoy socializing with circus work folks, typically.
- Crying? Really?
Thank goat I decided to take this Friday and Monday off. Evidently, I need a nap. Or, you know, a smack in the head.
Oh Hello! Come in. Sorry about the dust and cobwebs. I’ll tidy up. But have some pasta salad.
I haven’t been around. I didn’t have much to say for a while. Now it seems I have a whole bunch of things, and hope I remember all of it so I can get it down here.
Let’s see… Last Thursday, I participated in the UW Day of Caring by helping to beautify the local YMCA. Weeding, mulching, etc. It was a long day, with a lot of work, but I’m glad I did it. While I was weeding, one of the residents came over to “help” me. Recently, the city closed a YWCA, so there are women living there too. So, this resident that came over to help me – I never did get her name – was very nice. I’m pretty sure she was a little bit crazy, but she seemed nice enough. She was telling me about her huge house 2 towns over, and the house on the beach in another state. Yes, she lives at the shelter and goes to another shelter for her food. She has a 15-year-old daughter with whom she doesn’t get along.
Then she started telling me about her husband, and how he beat her. She worked 2 jobs while he went to school, so now he’s educated and she’s not. And for some reason, she seems to think she can’t go to school now.
While she’s telling me all this, part of me was screaming in my head – I JUST WANT TO WEED!! I CAN’T HANDLE ALL THIS INFO!! But I tried to be sympathetic and most of all, just listen. I think that’s what she wanted most of all. I know that much of what she said was probably not true. And that’s okay. She wanted someone to listen to her.
She must have thought I was nice, too, because she went inside and brought out Minnesota. What? Yeah, Minnesota is a kitten. Probably 6 months old. Double paws. White with 2 different color eyes. OH EM GEE. What a sweet little boy. She was very proud of her little boy.
So, I’ll admit that my initial reason for volunteering for DoC was to get the day off from work, and also to add to my list of volunteerism. That is now part of my annual review – how much I help in the community.
But after that day? I have a new perspective. It is very easy to see a homeless person and marginalize them; avert your eyes; walk by without “seeing” them. But they all have a story. They all have a past. They all came from somewhere. What’s that saying? There but for the grace?
I’m not saying that I’m going to go sign up to work with the homeless or volunteer at the shelter. But it’s nice to get a new perspective and to see things from outside my comfort zone once in a while. I appreciate what I have so much more.
Oh, hello! Come in. Have some mac and cheese. It’s good comfort food.
There is a woman at work who intimidates me greatly. Or is it greatly intimidates me? See! I’m doubting my grammar now!!!
This woman, Sheba, is tall and thin while I am neither. She is really REALLY smart. But I think I am, too. She’s extraordinary at her job, but she has been here for more than 10 years. There are days when I think I am good at my job, but others when I think “How have I fooled people for so long and when am I going to be found out for the fraud that I am?”
Today is one of the latter days. Probably because I spent the morning in a meeting with Sheba and, predictably, came out of said meeting feeling like I should probably hang up my heels and go work at a real Gas ‘n Sip. It wasn’t pretty. I wanted to cry.
I spend a lot of time wallowing in self-doubt. I have no idea when this phenomenon started or what the cause of it is but I do know that going through life feeling like the dumbest woman on the planet is not working for me. (I think a strong contender for that title would be the woman who is trying to eat her way into being the fattest woman ever. I’m told you can actually go online and watch her eat. Um. Gross.) (But I digress.)
The reality is that I know that I am *not* stupid. I don’t know if I’m MENSA smart, but I do okay. I know that I am capable of many things. I also know that I am smarter than a lot of people I work with. Or maybe it’s better to say that I’m better at some things than they are and vice versa. So when self-doubt comes knocking, why can’t I just tell it that I’m not interested in hearing what it has to say today and wish it well? Why do I allow myself to get knocked down? Why is it SO easy to believe the bad stuff and SO difficult to believe the best?
Of course, true to form, I will now spend several days hours over-analyzing things to find out what is going on, only to not come up with anything or to get distracted and put it off until the next time. I would be willing to bet that most people feel like this at some point or another. But I wonder if I am different and feel this way more frequently than others. Is there any way to know?
I think I would like to be one of those women you see out who look like they have it all together – they look polished, they walk proudly and with a purpose, they have the “perfect” partner/job/car/home/life. But, in the same breath, I wonder if “she” really exists anywhere? No one has a perfect anything. I know that. And maybe “she” just has a huge wall or facade up that is masking her personal heartbreak. But, having the confidence to project that “I’m awesome, always” attitude, however briefly, would be kinda fun. I think.
Or maybe it would just be exhausting, and I should nap instead.
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