Woo hoo! Snow Day!
Shout out to all the kids (and teachers) in Jersey who wore their pajamas backwards AND inside out last night. It worked. We have about 6" of fluffy white stuff on the ground and more coming.
Of course, to even out the plus of the beauty of it - and it really is very pretty, clinging picturesquely to the evergreens and bare limbs of trees - there's the fact that it has to be dealt with. I spent about half an hour shoveling Ma Maisonette's tiny driveway. And I'm not kidding - the township snow plow came by to plow in my driveway the exact instant I rested the shovel against the side of the porch.
Oh well. It's still beautiful.
Actually, I think it was because I found "Witchi-tai-to" on Songza http://songza.com/and played it about eighteen times last night. And again just now.
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Not As Bright As I Look...
Okay. Re the whole Fireman Fred thing and (shudder) last week and the attendant disasters. I have thought about this and come to the inevitable conclusion that Fred is an asshole. Yes, I know it was obvious to some of you from the very start, but surprising as this may seem, I actually want to like people. I know I tend to give credit where none has been earned. When he arrived on the scene, I wanted to make it very clear to senior management that I did not (and still do not) resent anyone getting that Director position instead of me.
What I am realizing is that Fred has been playing with my head from the git-go, in ways large and small, and I should never, I repeat, never have made it the slightest bit obvious what my Achilles heel is. In case you haven't noticed, it's the abject terror of losing my job.
The first month I contracted / temped for Mighty Citadel was something akin to paradise. No, really. I came in. The manager said, "We want an Access database that stores this, runs these queries and produces these reports. Can you do that?" I said, "Hotcha, you bet" and they put me in a little corner cubicle. There I labored away for hours every day, designing, writing and testing the system. Oh, and learning Access, since I only knew how to spell it when I walked into the building. Maybe once a day, Rita Skeeta came by to see how I was doing, look at the reports and how they were run, make suggestions and changes, and then go away. When I wrote and presented the documentation and user guide, it was like I'd made the tides turn. And there was much rejoicing.
I have to say, it was a pretty sweet gig.
The point of all this is that during this time, no one wanted to bond with me, be my friend, find out my life story (I could see the hair on the back of his neck stand up as The Temporary Therapist dutifully wrote it down), etc etc. In short, no one wanted to know anything and that was just as well.
Most of it was my decision to constantly deflect the few questions that came my way. Mostly, nobody pays much attention to a temp / contractor as long as she's doing her job.
Somehow, I have to find out how to distance myself from all this personal stuff at work without looking like I'm pouting. Working on that. Stay tuned for further reports.
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"There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort." - Jane Austen
I love being home. I need to be home. Given the amount of time I've spent not at home for the past two months, it's no wonder I'm so addled. (18th century word for "mental")
Home is real comfort. Home is peace, especially if the house is clean. Home is where my head clears. I can think. I can sort things out. I come back to myself.
The kitties settle down. Grace eats again. Dylan stops being an appendage. Butch ventures from his citadel on top of the china closet to one of the cat perches next to the front window.
Last night, I made dinner for myself. A real dinner: chicken with mushrooms in a wine sauce, steamed red potatoes and glazed carrots. And had a glass of wine. I spent the rest of the evening, feeling that tight spring just below my breastbone unwind.
And it was good.
2 comments:
Yes! Print out that part in the middle and post it on your refrigerator.
You know, we teach people how to treat us. The people whom I like to call "the wolves" smell weakness, and prey on it (e.g. your ex). My mother, at 4'9" once told me that if you walk tall and act strong, no one will notice how small and weak you are. Think of all the women that the world considers beautiful, but they're actually rather plain. It's because they act like they're beautiful, and we believe it.
People will believe of you what you believe of yourself.
You have a shining face, eyes that project intelligence and a desire to understand, and you are a natural nurturer. Start with that.
I tend to allow work friendships only with people who have no direct bearing on my job. Of course, I work at a small company, and my job takes me all over the place. I've been there long enough that I know most everyone.
I even quit once. My boss asked me back.
My friends at work know just enough about me to have conversation. I know just enough about them. One or two I see beyond the confines of work because we actually are friends, and neither of us have power or position that can hurt the other (in fact, my one really good friend is the one I do the most to help). Again, small company with little hierarchy and not much to gain from backstabbing and game playing (since Bosszilla outdoes everyone on that front, which is plenty) so it's a lucky place.
But I have worked hard to be the one everyone comes to when a problem needs solving. People confide in me and I keep my mouth shut. People tend to want to help when I ask. I've spent 11 years building up that image, most of it in the last 7. It's deliberate, careful, and so far it's working.
I'll be testing it again in a few months when I have to find a new job.
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