August 2009


So we had one of our lunchtime work meetings today.  You know they gave me this huge new project to “run with…nobody’s ever done this before.”  So nobody really knows how to do it.  So, if I screw up, who will know?  Who will stop me?  I am used to being micromanaged.  My one-up even watches me just in case I use the wrong bathroom.

 

So I mentioned that I would like more feedback, because I would like to make sure I am at least headed in the right direction.  My manager (not my micromanager…the manager with the kissable-looking lips) took the opportunity to heap on some praise.  “You’re doing great!”  I told him that wasn’t what I was looking for, I wanted concrete feedback.  He seemed really embarrassed.  But I really want to know!  I feel like I am letting go of a bunch of helium balloons, watching them float up toward the clouds.  I have no idea where they are headed.  One of them might even float to New Zealand (not likely, but this is a metaphor) and if nobody mails me back a “Hey!  I got your balloon, and hi from New Zealand!” then I have no idea whatsoever. Right?  How about “you currently have met 10% of your goal.”  Now that would be good!  He didn’t like the feedback I gave him about my feedback- is that right?  Is that irony?  What is that?

Biking home from work last night, it was cold for an August evening, and I was loaded down with fresh produce bought in the am from the farmers’ market downtown.  I’ve been trying to eat “Five a day, the color way” and it’s not easy.  Muskmelons were three for $2, so had those, as well as a three-pound bag of apples, a dozen sweet peppers, and an eggplant.  My mom had given me a boatload of tomatoes the day before, so red is pretty well covered.  Anyway, after working late, the ride home was chilly and dark so I took an alternate route, right past the coffee shop that has half-price bakery after 8pm or whenever the baristas get to putting the sign out.  The lure of muffins was irresistible.  My friend happened to be there for the chattin’.  That was awesome: the perfect end to an almost-perfect day.

My new boss is a rebellious former dietician.  He got his master’s degree in managering and so now he is a manager.  I have yet to see him eat anything with nutritional value, and I have seen him eat quite often, as he is fond of lunchtime meetings and the office candy dish.  Styrofoam cups full of gas-station coffee…soup from a plastic container with steamholes in the top for microwaving…and today’s lunch, an entire box of  Cheez-its. Gross.  He’s like a teenager rebelling against the strict parents of healthy dining habits.  It’s kind of weird.

 

The other weird thing is that he has incredibly kissable-appearing lips.  I swear.  It is very distracting.  I’m mostly over it (the first couple months we had to work together I had very naughty kissing thoughts about him) but then today he was talking about the new H1N1 flu recommendations, and how (I didn’t read this from cdc.gov but…) “teenagers are not supposed to kiss unless they have plastic in between.”  I cannot see that happening, any more than teenagers use condoms or- gasp- abstain.  If squelching teenage hormones are all that stand between us and a full-blown swine flu outbreak, God help us all.

So my band (Secondhand Thong) had a couple gigs recently.  It’s always an adventure.  Sometimes we end up playing somewhat inappropriate venues.  Last Saturday we got heckled pretty bad by a few drunks and an old lady.  Whatever.  Nobody threw anything, and we got paid in beer.  Somebody (not one of the other grrrrls in the band) stuck a hairbrush in my gig case though.  It was full of dishwater blonde dirty hairs and Aquanet stickiness.  Gross.  I threw that…away. 

 

Unfortunately, we’re kind of “on hiatus” now due to Candy (guitar babe) wanting a little more time to herself.  Supposedly we’re going to magically get back together in November, but I don’t see it happening, so I’m kind of on the scam for other musical opportunities.

This morning I was eating breakfast, trying to get ready for work, and I heard the sound of two vehicles colliding.  Then a car alarm.  Then, very soon, emergency vehicles, several of them in quick succession.  It sounded like the car accident I had two weeks ago.  Flashback time.  Not a good way to start the day, but then, neither was being really hung over, or crying in my boss’s office because I hate the “new exciting job thing” that they gave me.  I am having a really hard time staying organized and on top of an ever-changing nebulous job description- a moving target, if you will.

 

The consolation prize  for the job is that I get an office with a window and a different mix of coworkers. 

 

The consolation prize for the car accident is that I got my car back on Friday, sort of wrinkled, a permanent reminder that the accident was my own fault.

My take-no-BS friend had insisted that I see a counselor.  I asked a bunch of people whom they might recommend and took absolutely none of their advice, choosing instead a person who purported to have deep Christian faith.  She was very condescending and it was just not good all around. 

 

I discovered that I didn’t need to pay for that kind of s**t.  She told me to be assertive, so I fired her.

 

I feel great now sans counseling.  Thanks to yet another bad counseling experience, I know I am better off without it.

Sweet snuggle girl Marilyn

Sweet snuggle girl Marilyn

My little lovebug, Marilyn.  So purrrfect!

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