Had this been a real emergency, you would have been instructed where to find the remnants of my head and encouraged to send copious amounts of tequila and other possibly consoling sundries to my grieving friends and family.
I’m exaggerating, as is my wont; and yet if there was a day designed to test my fortitude, it was yesterday.
Patience is not my long suit. Hard to picture, isn’t it? Now, I’m not talking about instant pudding here (although it can’t hold a candle to real pudding – don’t get me started on the beauty of a real pudding!). I’m talking about when the normal things one does take three to four times as long as they usually do.
Take the computer for example. I often have a medium-sized obelisk-style pile of paper that must be "inputted", as they say, to the computer. I’ve gotten this sort of thing down pat – I know how many “tabs” to where I need to go next, I know how much I can enter at any given time, I know how far ahead of myself I can get before the computer gets crabby with me, and I know when I’ll be done so I can go on to the next scintillating project.
Now take the same medium-sized obelisk-style pile of paper that I need to enter into the computer, only this time put one of my arms in a sling, put the data in another language and drop some LSD into my coffee. That’s how I felt yesterday, minus the signatures of my friends on the plaster or the accompanying challenge/amusement of the trails left behind as people pass by my desk...
I’m a Type A personality, folks. I have Things To Do.
Very Important Things.
As a matter of fact, I was told, at my last review, that the only thing they had for me as a “developmental goal” was for me to “have more fun”.
I laughed out loud at that one; but at work, I guess it’s true. I can be – can be! – one of those people who responds to your question of “How was your weekend?” with “Lovely! Say, did you ever get that file I sent you?”
Don’t they know that I’m paid by the hour? Don’t they know I have Things To Do?
DAMMIT, PEOPLE! I'VE GOT WORK TO DO!
I need to be “fuzzier”. I need to “relax”.
Breathe, dagnab it, Pearl, breathe! (And insert bland, cow-like thoughts here.)
Moo.
I’m exaggerating, as is my wont; and yet if there was a day designed to test my fortitude, it was yesterday.
Patience is not my long suit. Hard to picture, isn’t it? Now, I’m not talking about instant pudding here (although it can’t hold a candle to real pudding – don’t get me started on the beauty of a real pudding!). I’m talking about when the normal things one does take three to four times as long as they usually do.
Take the computer for example. I often have a medium-sized obelisk-style pile of paper that must be "inputted", as they say, to the computer. I’ve gotten this sort of thing down pat – I know how many “tabs” to where I need to go next, I know how much I can enter at any given time, I know how far ahead of myself I can get before the computer gets crabby with me, and I know when I’ll be done so I can go on to the next scintillating project.
Now take the same medium-sized obelisk-style pile of paper that I need to enter into the computer, only this time put one of my arms in a sling, put the data in another language and drop some LSD into my coffee. That’s how I felt yesterday, minus the signatures of my friends on the plaster or the accompanying challenge/amusement of the trails left behind as people pass by my desk...
I’m a Type A personality, folks. I have Things To Do.
Very Important Things.
As a matter of fact, I was told, at my last review, that the only thing they had for me as a “developmental goal” was for me to “have more fun”.
I laughed out loud at that one; but at work, I guess it’s true. I can be – can be! – one of those people who responds to your question of “How was your weekend?” with “Lovely! Say, did you ever get that file I sent you?”
Don’t they know that I’m paid by the hour? Don’t they know I have Things To Do?
DAMMIT, PEOPLE! I'VE GOT WORK TO DO!
I need to be “fuzzier”. I need to “relax”.
Breathe, dagnab it, Pearl, breathe! (And insert bland, cow-like thoughts here.)
Moo.
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20 comments:
I had a department secretary once who was borderline obsessive/compulsive. I'd occasionally go into her office when she was out and re-arrange things, move them slightly. When she'd come back you could see the veins in her neck start to swell.
My version of having fun at work.
Should Fish More, I would notice, but it wouldn't bug me much.:-)
"Needs to have more fun", eh? Mm-hmm, mm-hmm ... let me just point out that if you are being paid by the hour, and they WANT you to have more fun, by gum, you should be having more fun each and every hour. Now if you were being paid by the obelish-shaped-pile-of-paper-processed, that would be different.
In a more serious vein, I am paid by the hour, too, and pretty much on the honour system, and I refuse to charge any of my yak time, so it's a challenge to be friendly and at the same time manage to earn anything. I feel your pain.
*not obelish, but "obelisk"
Scout's honour, I have NOT been imbibing this early in the day :)
Just another little spoooonful of the LSD . . .
Nothing drove me nuttier at work than that group of middle management morrons who kept chanting about 'fun in the workplace'. Dash it all, I'm not here for fun I'm here for the paycheque.
I take regular mental holidays at work, home, or whenever I need a flight of fantasy. The poop is hitting the fan all around me and I am quietly smiling. I think it scares folks a bit.
There are days when everything goes well, but don't be frightened.
Hari Om
Read my lips Pearl...TIME IS MY SLAVE...It's a magic mantra for doing everything at once. It works.
'Til the pile morphs into an ACTUAL obelisk. Then you're in deep... YAM xx
Life is too short! Relax a little!
Now that I am paid by the hour I have a new mantra, paid by the hour-not by the pound.
If it takes me longer I chant-time and a half.
*peels Pearl from the ceiling*
X
*hands Pearl margarita*
Paid by the hour? What's your hurry?
I can't believe I just posted that. It is so not me-- or you-- and yet it does seem to be the way of the world.
You're being told to have fun on the clock, that is pretty neat I think!
Somebody at work is as impressed with you as your readers are. Have fun, they say? Romp it up, girl.
I had fun in one of my factory jobs, I liked the work so much, just going there was fun. But at my last job, following the rules was required. Bah!
If it wasn't for type-A personalities we wouldn't have the rest of the alphabet yet.
moo?
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