It seems painfully clear now that new GMLady is causing more harmful drama than she was hired to resolve. She had to come to work yesterday on her day off to take care of a write up for a cashier who showed up two hours late. She was extremely bitter about it and kept coming over to me to bitch about things. I had been asked to sit in on another write-up, but they didn't tell me who it was for. I knew that CashierManagerLady was getting one, but I had thought that was already taken care of. I really don't want to be involved in the punishment processes, but they only trusted me to take notes on the whole event. I have never done this before and I never had any desire to be a part of HR in this manner. CMLady cried and complained about how she has been working her ass off to smooth things over with the cashiers over GMLady's inability to properly run the store. I can understand her points. She is a very sweet lady who has been there a very long time and knows what BossLady wants. She has been calling the proverbial shots, and now the very green GMLady is telling her how to do her job. Anyone would be furious. Nevertheless, from what I have seen, she's handled it very well. This write-up was about GMLady perceiving that she was addressed rudely in front of a customer. I do believe that CMLady was short with her, but she usually is when she is busy...and it's not because she's being rude, it's that she is trying to do too many jobs at once.
When everyone left the meeting, the woman doing the write-up...PB2...had asked me to stay to get my take on the whole thing. She was summoned to the front moments later and upon her return, informed me that GMLady overheard the meeting and stormed home. Why must everyone be so goddamn dramatic? It's a business...this isn't high school anymore. We are all adults and we all should, theoretically, just to our damned jobs and go home...let the shit roll off our backs. It's 100 degrees on the sales floor and everyone is crabby. The whole thing is ridiculous.
I went outside with PB2 to smoke a cigarette and try to discuss this whole thing in private. We never really got to, and were interrupted by GMLady radioing PB2 to ask what I had said. She had no idea I was there. She said that I had been pissed off and didn't want to stay late...which is absolute bullshit. All I said was that I had to leave on time yesterday. It is not my job to close the store and I have been extremely generous in the amount of time I've spent doing it this week. PB2 told her that she had a hard time believing that I would be pissed off about anything...and she seemed to drop it after that. The whole thing is aggravating. I called PB2 later on to tell her that I don't want to be in the middle of this drama and that I've said nothing and heard nothing. The last thing I want is to be in the middle of a catfight...especially with GMLady who is way too much of a princess for anybody's good.
If I'm going to have to keep working here...which seems like the responsible thing to do for the next few months, I need to talk to BossLady about all this crap. I don't want to be the tattle-tale or anything, but I think there are little things we could do to at least make the environment better for our cashiers and customers up front...even things as simple as buying a little AC to put at the registers. This really could be a great place to work if everyone was physically comfortable and could find a reasonable way of getting along with one another...and at least clearly knew what was expected of them in their own jobs. There is no excuse for allowing these misunderstandings to blow so far out of proportion that we are four cashiers and two managers short.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
High Drama in the Workplace
When I came to work on Monday, there was a three page letter to the employees from BossLady sitting on my desk. It turns out that she hired a woman to take on her human resources and management responsibilities for the entire store. She named her the General Manager, but she has really been spread too thin for that title to be of consequence. BossLady hired her three days before she left on a trip to England and expected her to be able to "run the ship" in her absence. By the time I met her on Monday morning, she was already showing signs of being ridden hard and put away wet. She had worked in those three days more than most cashiers to in a week, and has been forced to make the difficult decisions with the knowledge that BossLady has complete faith in her abilities. Fortunately, this doesn't really affect me. I am the quiet one in the back...the resident Silent Bob who listens to their laments and helps them when I can. I am Accounts Payable, IT and apparently now the Spanish translator despite my extreme shortcomings in the subject. I only took three years in school, and did a piss poor job in my classes despite being a year ahead of the other students. My phrase of the day yesterday was, "Lo siento para mi espanol, senor." This was usually met with laughter and a broken response that I think translated to, "My English is poor, also."
The height of yesterday's drama occurred an hour before closing. GMLady noticed that the girls up front were coming to the back to drink water from the fridge and ended up chatting with the office staff for twenty minutes at a time. She told them all that they need to either make their trips quick, keep the water up front or drink on their breaks if they are going to be away for that long. This sounded reasonable to me, but I have the luxury of sitting in the air conditioned offices and avoiding the 100 degrees outside. She offered to bring ice packs for everyone to keep their water in the front...but, the cashiers were sent into hissyfits that resulted in four people giving notice. GMLady began to confide more in me about her frustrations, and spent the better part of that hour hunched behind my desk talking to her girlfriend on her cell phone. It was quite a day, and I ended up staying an hour and a half after my shift to close out the drawers.
BossLady left me to train GMLady on the accounting operations. She didn't give me this little tidbit before she left, and it seems absolutely insane to me that one who has been there exactly a month now is training another new person...and a manager at that...how to do anything at all. The woman who trained me to do the reconciliations has told us both that BossLady has the utmost trust and confidence in us, and that this is extremely rare for her. We spoke of this oddness a bit yesterday over a drawer full of change. Why would this woman who is notorious for her mistrust promote me in just one day to handle all of the AP stuff for her three companies, despite my lack of background and hire GMLady into a position with extreme responsibility? The only thing we could come up with was that she is closet lesbian. She treats the other straight girls with mistrust and disregard...the men are equally treated as dumb animals...and the two lesbians are given positions of this caliber after just a brief meeting in a dusty little office. It's unbelievable.
I didn't really notice much before I left that Prego1, who originally trained me for her job, was teaching her mother how to do the things that are my job, rather than letting me do them myself, as I requested. Prego1's mom has been hoarding things and being generally protective of her daughter's position and responsibilities that had bled into AP before I was hired. It hadn't occurred to me before, but, I get the feeling that she wanted the job I got. It makes sense. It would be quite a promotion for her and it would have been a very sensible one. It probably irked her even more that I have been very nonchalant about it. I was appreciative, and I thanked BossLady for the compliment...but, honestly, I don't give a damn about who does what and all that crap. I don't want anyone else's job. I'm not even entirely sure I want my own. These people are acting like dogs guarding bones rather than mature adults who can handle their own responsibilities. I don't have any room in my life for this kind of drama. I don't gossip, I don't complain to them, and I all around just don't care. I see where the company has gone wrong. I understand what would make it a better place for these people to work. I know when someone is trying to step on my toes, but it is not my job to be the manager. I am accounts payable, and I don't want to take on any more than I already have. This job was supposed to be something simple and tedious...and now it's steeped in the drama of immature and disgruntled employees. I don't get paid enough for this.
The height of yesterday's drama occurred an hour before closing. GMLady noticed that the girls up front were coming to the back to drink water from the fridge and ended up chatting with the office staff for twenty minutes at a time. She told them all that they need to either make their trips quick, keep the water up front or drink on their breaks if they are going to be away for that long. This sounded reasonable to me, but I have the luxury of sitting in the air conditioned offices and avoiding the 100 degrees outside. She offered to bring ice packs for everyone to keep their water in the front...but, the cashiers were sent into hissyfits that resulted in four people giving notice. GMLady began to confide more in me about her frustrations, and spent the better part of that hour hunched behind my desk talking to her girlfriend on her cell phone. It was quite a day, and I ended up staying an hour and a half after my shift to close out the drawers.
BossLady left me to train GMLady on the accounting operations. She didn't give me this little tidbit before she left, and it seems absolutely insane to me that one who has been there exactly a month now is training another new person...and a manager at that...how to do anything at all. The woman who trained me to do the reconciliations has told us both that BossLady has the utmost trust and confidence in us, and that this is extremely rare for her. We spoke of this oddness a bit yesterday over a drawer full of change. Why would this woman who is notorious for her mistrust promote me in just one day to handle all of the AP stuff for her three companies, despite my lack of background and hire GMLady into a position with extreme responsibility? The only thing we could come up with was that she is closet lesbian. She treats the other straight girls with mistrust and disregard...the men are equally treated as dumb animals...and the two lesbians are given positions of this caliber after just a brief meeting in a dusty little office. It's unbelievable.
I didn't really notice much before I left that Prego1, who originally trained me for her job, was teaching her mother how to do the things that are my job, rather than letting me do them myself, as I requested. Prego1's mom has been hoarding things and being generally protective of her daughter's position and responsibilities that had bled into AP before I was hired. It hadn't occurred to me before, but, I get the feeling that she wanted the job I got. It makes sense. It would be quite a promotion for her and it would have been a very sensible one. It probably irked her even more that I have been very nonchalant about it. I was appreciative, and I thanked BossLady for the compliment...but, honestly, I don't give a damn about who does what and all that crap. I don't want anyone else's job. I'm not even entirely sure I want my own. These people are acting like dogs guarding bones rather than mature adults who can handle their own responsibilities. I don't have any room in my life for this kind of drama. I don't gossip, I don't complain to them, and I all around just don't care. I see where the company has gone wrong. I understand what would make it a better place for these people to work. I know when someone is trying to step on my toes, but it is not my job to be the manager. I am accounts payable, and I don't want to take on any more than I already have. This job was supposed to be something simple and tedious...and now it's steeped in the drama of immature and disgruntled employees. I don't get paid enough for this.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
The Birthday Man
It occurred to me when I woke up this morning that it is my father's birthday and I forgot to send him a card. I have been asking myself whether this was a subconscious act or a result of my being busy. With all the family drama that has transpired over the past few months, it's really no surprise that I failed to acknowledge his birthday. He insulted and defiled my home and family, and that is not something I could ever take lightly. On the other hand, I wonder if it makes me just as bad as he is to not send him anything. For Father's Day, I made the effort to meet with my parents, and I was met with an extremely nasty and hostile letter. On the phone...when I finally got him on the phone...to ask whether he would like to do something, he told me to read the letter he wrote before I decide. I told him that it wasn't my decision and a simple yes or no would suffice, but he succeeded in putting the load on me. He thought that he could say to my mother that I didn't want to see them and I changed my mind. I don't understand it. How can a grown man be so manipulative?
My parents have been a life-long source of disappointment. The most valuable lesson I had ever learned from them was how not to be an adult. I managed to develop a strong work ethic and genuine bonds with the family I have made for myself. After they kicked me out of the house, I even made the effort to have a relationship with them again. I felt that it would be safer since I no longer lived under their roof and had a place to go to if the proverbial shit hit the unfortunate fan. I suppose my mistake was allowing them to enter my home and not meeting on neutral ground. My therapists always said that this was a better option if I insisted on having a relationship with them...which all of them discouraged anyway. I feel obligated to them...compelled to ensure that they are ok and stable. Despite this, I know that this is not my job and that they will never be ok or stable unless the grow up and stand up themselves. My father spent his adult life getting money from his mother when he ran into trouble...and he always ran into trouble because they are materialistic people. My grandmother tried to make a stand when my brother and I were infants. They were losing the house and she told him to be a man and get himself out of his mess. He lost the house, and my mother never forgave my grandmother. I never had a real relationship with his side of our family because of it, and was eventually forced to treat my father as if I hated him as well. I understand now, as an adult, that this was a necessary act on my grandmother's part. He was thirty something with a family of his own, and he needed to learn how to be independent without always asking mommy to bail him out when the going got tough.
My grandmother died a few years ago, and he has been clamoring for the inheritance amongst his brothers to pull himself out of the proverbial hole. He hasn't paid his taxes in four years...he steals satellite TV...he sells pornography on eBay...he criticizes me for not allowing him to bring his business into my home. How can I respect this man? How could I have ever considered giving our family name to my unborn children? I am deeply saddened and ashamed...and yet they continue to treat me as if I am an immature child for not wanting anything to do with their inappropriateness. He tells me that I should be ashamed of myself for not allowing him to 'make a few bucks' while he was invited to stay in my home.
My brother chastises me for not letting these things go...for not being able to analyze situations without taking my childhood experiences into situations. I have always believed that everything that happens to a person shapes the decisions they make throughout their lives. Every experience I have ever had and every person I have ever met has shaped me into the adult I am today, and I cannot simply throw out the greater part of my life and base my decisions on events that have solely transpired in my adulthood. Our dysfunctional childhood was a great part of my journey, and I am amazed that I have been able to use the examples set for me in a way that makes me strive to be an honorable, respectable and loving person.
My parents did the best they could...as most parents do. They did what they could with the tools they were given, and I suppose I can't blame them for that. I just wish that I could be proud of them. I wish that I could bring my wife into the home of my adolescence and allow her to see my family in their natural habitat. I don't think that you can truly know somebody until you are invited to their home...clean or filthy. I wish I could say that they worked hard and were nurturing and supportive. But the truth is that they wasted away their adult lives hoping for the big break that never came. I don't want to be responsible for them anymore. I don't want to be the parent to them any longer...and I don't want to be less of a person for wanting nothing to do with them now.
So the question remains...should I have sent a card to wish my father a happy birthday? Should I feel guilty that a phone call is entirely out of the question if my sanity is to be preserved? Would protecting myself in this fashion make me as evasive as they are? Maybe I have more growing up to do...and maybe I am finally taking a stand for myself and my family. I wish there were easy answers, but I realize more and more that there is no such thing.
My parents have been a life-long source of disappointment. The most valuable lesson I had ever learned from them was how not to be an adult. I managed to develop a strong work ethic and genuine bonds with the family I have made for myself. After they kicked me out of the house, I even made the effort to have a relationship with them again. I felt that it would be safer since I no longer lived under their roof and had a place to go to if the proverbial shit hit the unfortunate fan. I suppose my mistake was allowing them to enter my home and not meeting on neutral ground. My therapists always said that this was a better option if I insisted on having a relationship with them...which all of them discouraged anyway. I feel obligated to them...compelled to ensure that they are ok and stable. Despite this, I know that this is not my job and that they will never be ok or stable unless the grow up and stand up themselves. My father spent his adult life getting money from his mother when he ran into trouble...and he always ran into trouble because they are materialistic people. My grandmother tried to make a stand when my brother and I were infants. They were losing the house and she told him to be a man and get himself out of his mess. He lost the house, and my mother never forgave my grandmother. I never had a real relationship with his side of our family because of it, and was eventually forced to treat my father as if I hated him as well. I understand now, as an adult, that this was a necessary act on my grandmother's part. He was thirty something with a family of his own, and he needed to learn how to be independent without always asking mommy to bail him out when the going got tough.
My grandmother died a few years ago, and he has been clamoring for the inheritance amongst his brothers to pull himself out of the proverbial hole. He hasn't paid his taxes in four years...he steals satellite TV...he sells pornography on eBay...he criticizes me for not allowing him to bring his business into my home. How can I respect this man? How could I have ever considered giving our family name to my unborn children? I am deeply saddened and ashamed...and yet they continue to treat me as if I am an immature child for not wanting anything to do with their inappropriateness. He tells me that I should be ashamed of myself for not allowing him to 'make a few bucks' while he was invited to stay in my home.
My brother chastises me for not letting these things go...for not being able to analyze situations without taking my childhood experiences into situations. I have always believed that everything that happens to a person shapes the decisions they make throughout their lives. Every experience I have ever had and every person I have ever met has shaped me into the adult I am today, and I cannot simply throw out the greater part of my life and base my decisions on events that have solely transpired in my adulthood. Our dysfunctional childhood was a great part of my journey, and I am amazed that I have been able to use the examples set for me in a way that makes me strive to be an honorable, respectable and loving person.
My parents did the best they could...as most parents do. They did what they could with the tools they were given, and I suppose I can't blame them for that. I just wish that I could be proud of them. I wish that I could bring my wife into the home of my adolescence and allow her to see my family in their natural habitat. I don't think that you can truly know somebody until you are invited to their home...clean or filthy. I wish I could say that they worked hard and were nurturing and supportive. But the truth is that they wasted away their adult lives hoping for the big break that never came. I don't want to be responsible for them anymore. I don't want to be the parent to them any longer...and I don't want to be less of a person for wanting nothing to do with them now.
So the question remains...should I have sent a card to wish my father a happy birthday? Should I feel guilty that a phone call is entirely out of the question if my sanity is to be preserved? Would protecting myself in this fashion make me as evasive as they are? Maybe I have more growing up to do...and maybe I am finally taking a stand for myself and my family. I wish there were easy answers, but I realize more and more that there is no such thing.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Zoloft Chronicles
They say on every prescription of anti-depressants that one may not feel the full effects of the drug for up to one month, but some may notice as soon as one week. I keep this in my head as I try to be patient. It hasn't been a week yet, but I am beginning to notice little things. Like the first little bubbles in a pot set to boil, I am noticing the annoying little things I have a compulsion to do. I ask myself when it first started, and the proverbial can of worms opens...slimy little creatures trying to climb out to avoid being skewered on a hook, and possibly pumped full of air. The doctor asked me if I counted...and I couldn't think whether I did, because many of these acts have been second nature. Then, in a store, I notice that one of the little voices in my head is counting my steps to avoid stepping on a crack in the floor slabs. In my adult mind, I know that not everyone does this...and I also know that it is something I have kept under wraps at all costs to avoid the wide-eyed looks from my peers that say in no uncertain terms that I am crazy.
The first time I read Girl...Interrupted, long before the movie, mind you...the protagonist's journey felt a little too familiar to me. I felt that I might feel at home in an institution...being a guerilla anthropologist in denial of my own questionable sanity. I know what it feels like to be disconnected from one's body. I know the numbness of wondering whether you are real or perceived. I know the sinewy depths of self inflicted pain and torment, and how that can give someone an indescribable release. Sometimes I think it was worse as a child, and then I advise myself that I have had several years to deal with and hide the symptoms from prying eyes. I know how to function as an adult...although I may not be the best at it. I still take thrice as long to finish things...some things never get touched for fear of the way my hands feel despite subsequent washings. I take deep breaths as I wash dishes bare handed to calm my pounding heart. I tell the voice that says it's not good enough yet that it's fine...it's fine...it's fine. I feel guilty that my Fruit is with a sick woman. I get paranoid that the things I do will never be enough. The voice repeats...do it again, it's not good enough...over and over until I must rub my temples and shake it off. Doesn't everyone do this? Everyone must do this...I can't be crazy...I can't be crazy. The anxiety I feel should have gone away with childhood...the rationalizations I make to myself have gotten me very far in my short years as an adult...and then I notice that there is a problem. My Fruit tells me that there is a problem...and she must tell me over and over again before I admit that there is something wrong to myself. I don't know why I am so afraid. I don't know why I have a set of laws that apply only to myself and never to anyone else...why I can accept things in other people and not in myself...why I can justify and comfort others in their actions and harshly chastize myself as if I am less of a person. My therapists in the past said it was because of the way I was raised. They say it was my fear of my mother and that the voices were my mind's way of creating a substitute parent to tell me what is right and wrong. I don't know how true that is...or what it could possibly solve when a little girl has a voice in her head, steeped in false wisdom of how things should be done, telling her what to do. As a child, I thought it was my guardian angel. As an adult, I thought it was my conscience. Now I wonder again where it will go if and when the pills do their job. Will it change me? Will I be a better person. Will she still love me? The voices spar debate-style...weighing the pros and cons as I desperately try to keep up with all of the routine of daily life. The lawn needs to be mowed...the garage needs to be cleaned...the dishes washed and the dog and cats fed and watered. A shower needs to be taken...work needs to be done. All I want is to stay home and take care of the burning necessities as I go off to yet another job that leads me home to consume beer and vegetate on the couch for a few hours before bed.
My Fruit, I love you dearly...this weekend has been fabulous and I am deeply saddened to see it end. I hope that I can be a better person...that I can share with you the methods to my madness...and overcome them to be an efficient and fully functioning member of our beautiful little household. You inspire me to be a better woman, and there are no words in our language to express how much that means to me. You have shown me the depths of unconditional love, and I will spend the rest of my life showing you my love, gratitude and deep respect for all that you are.
The first time I read Girl...Interrupted, long before the movie, mind you...the protagonist's journey felt a little too familiar to me. I felt that I might feel at home in an institution...being a guerilla anthropologist in denial of my own questionable sanity. I know what it feels like to be disconnected from one's body. I know the numbness of wondering whether you are real or perceived. I know the sinewy depths of self inflicted pain and torment, and how that can give someone an indescribable release. Sometimes I think it was worse as a child, and then I advise myself that I have had several years to deal with and hide the symptoms from prying eyes. I know how to function as an adult...although I may not be the best at it. I still take thrice as long to finish things...some things never get touched for fear of the way my hands feel despite subsequent washings. I take deep breaths as I wash dishes bare handed to calm my pounding heart. I tell the voice that says it's not good enough yet that it's fine...it's fine...it's fine. I feel guilty that my Fruit is with a sick woman. I get paranoid that the things I do will never be enough. The voice repeats...do it again, it's not good enough...over and over until I must rub my temples and shake it off. Doesn't everyone do this? Everyone must do this...I can't be crazy...I can't be crazy. The anxiety I feel should have gone away with childhood...the rationalizations I make to myself have gotten me very far in my short years as an adult...and then I notice that there is a problem. My Fruit tells me that there is a problem...and she must tell me over and over again before I admit that there is something wrong to myself. I don't know why I am so afraid. I don't know why I have a set of laws that apply only to myself and never to anyone else...why I can accept things in other people and not in myself...why I can justify and comfort others in their actions and harshly chastize myself as if I am less of a person. My therapists in the past said it was because of the way I was raised. They say it was my fear of my mother and that the voices were my mind's way of creating a substitute parent to tell me what is right and wrong. I don't know how true that is...or what it could possibly solve when a little girl has a voice in her head, steeped in false wisdom of how things should be done, telling her what to do. As a child, I thought it was my guardian angel. As an adult, I thought it was my conscience. Now I wonder again where it will go if and when the pills do their job. Will it change me? Will I be a better person. Will she still love me? The voices spar debate-style...weighing the pros and cons as I desperately try to keep up with all of the routine of daily life. The lawn needs to be mowed...the garage needs to be cleaned...the dishes washed and the dog and cats fed and watered. A shower needs to be taken...work needs to be done. All I want is to stay home and take care of the burning necessities as I go off to yet another job that leads me home to consume beer and vegetate on the couch for a few hours before bed.
My Fruit, I love you dearly...this weekend has been fabulous and I am deeply saddened to see it end. I hope that I can be a better person...that I can share with you the methods to my madness...and overcome them to be an efficient and fully functioning member of our beautiful little household. You inspire me to be a better woman, and there are no words in our language to express how much that means to me. You have shown me the depths of unconditional love, and I will spend the rest of my life showing you my love, gratitude and deep respect for all that you are.
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