The Way Things Are






We're not gonna take it
2004-02-04, 1:03 p.m.

On the bad side: I've got so much shit going on at work all at one time, that I hyperventilated a little bit this morning and thought very seriously about walking out.

On the good side: I calmed myself down by deleting close to 1000 emails in my inbox and sent box.

On the bad side: I apparently screwed a property sale by signing a new insurance claim construction contract.

On the good side: Other people want to buy it and they will just have to deal with the construction going on.

On the bad side: I might fail.

On the good side: They've outlawed cannibalism - they can't eat me.

On the bad side: Hm! I'm out of bad shit. Oh, my to-be-filed piles are growing out of control.

On the good side: I got nothing but time, baby.

On the bad side: My upper thigh and butt muscles are screaming for mercy today from yesterday's workout.

On the good side: I got an extra hour of sleep this morning, had marital relations with DW (really good relations, too, not just the quick kind), and two breakfast tacos at my desk. Tummy is full.

People keep telling me they don't see how I do it all, all this work-related stress, projects, deals, pressure, emergencies, shit hitting the fan. My reply is that I'm not really doing it all. It's not getting done. I run around here in a nervous fret most of the time, and finally settle myself down to do something really important like cull through my email to delete the shit I don't need anymore.

It's a rainy day in San Antonio, and cold for us. It's only in the mid-50's and prolly won't get any warmer than this. It took half an hour to get dressed this morning. I'm wearing a suit that I like, but I don't like it on me unless all conditions for its presentation are just perfect. Not any blouse or shell underneath will do. It must be dark, with a round neckline. A scarf around my neck made the whole ensemble pleasing, and it's funny to me how one moment my work look is just sucking, and the next, a change in blouse and addition of a scarf, makes my morning right.

Then when the angry fussing frustrated real estate broker calls, all hell breaks loose. He said this, she said that. Why did you do this? Why did you have so and so call here to say that? What? I'm sitting here, doing my job, processing paper, faxing, copying, putting shit together for people, and then people call and I'm in trouble for doing something that is my job. Too many cooks in the kitchen - too many people calling each other, telling each other what I said, what I did, what I didn't say or do.

Well, screw all that. I have been on this here earth for 39 years, and I've been a people-pleaser the whole time. I've been weaning myself away from that for the past year or so, and I think I'm finally done. I don't work for the real estate broker, I don't work for the mortgage broker, I don't work for the insurance broker, I don't work for the management agent. These people work for me. They can get their shit done without pestering me and causing nervous breakdowns for me when I don't jump through hoops, read minds, anticipate the future, and do as they say.

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