Have you ever stepped up to the plate and whiffed the ball? No it’s not a euphemism for anything kinky or in reference to a smell, it means you swung big and it went two (2) feet. I think it can also mean strike, but I digress…. My metaphor is the swing at hit it two feet definition. That is my current life. Last week I went MIA on the blog. I told no one, not even the one in charge (sorry Rashee). I didn’t apologize, I didn’t mention it. I felt guilty about it, but then life kicked me in the balls again.
Side note: all you feminist out there, I need an expression for a woman that equates to man getting tapped in the testicles. I have no balls but it doesn’t quite have the same oomph if I say I got kicked in the vagina (or cookie monster as my co-worker says). Am I supposed to say I’ve been getting my titties twisted for a month at work?! I got punched in the squishy bits?! Man, my uterus is getting pounded these days?! (Side side note: it is getting pounded but that’s because it’s occupied, but I digress again).
It started April 8th. That was a Friday. We have a production line of legal work in basically two (2) groups: one reviewing the financials and one reviewing the paperwork. This is a gross over simplification of my job, but you don’t want to see bureaucracy in action. The first group has about 10 attorneys, the second has 20-30 attorneys and another 20 paralegals. And then there is this tiny little group in the middle with 2.5 attorneys. That’s me. My job simple: look for a needle in the stack of needles that isn’t bent. You might say we have a back log of work. And management says ‘All hands on deck’. My response is ‘f*ck you, you built in this bottle neck, deal with it’. I have a set number of files to work; my lead (who has other responsibilities) has been kicking in. My production: 200-250%. His: 100-150% of someone else’s job. The third one?! 30% EVERY EFFING DAY. All hand on deck my left boob.
I am Type A and a little OCD and I like my sh!t in line. This kerfuffle is like telling me to enjoy the scribbles of some piece of modern art. (There isn’t anything wrong with modern art, it just, well, modern, and I like the old classics.)
My problems at work aren’t really unique. We all have them. I am not alone in having my soul sucked from my job, but my approach in dealing with it could use some work. I tend to ignore things. I start with the little things: getting a good wax (who needs two eyebrows?), then I ignore my friends (psh, they’ve met me, they will still love me), then I ignore my husband (hey, he said for better or worse), I really really wanted to ignore my child (he is 21 months old and HOLY SH!T he’s mean now!).
What I’ve discovered is also not unique: choosing your crappy job over your family and friends is not victory. The files are there when I leave and there when I get there. My friends have lives and I want to be a part of them. I want to comfort my mean little toddler instead of dodging trains lofted at my head. I want my husband to know he comes first-ish after the little ankler biter he fathered.
So I made a to-do list, after all, each day is a new day. I am going to happily start crossing crap off. Item one: finish post on time and send in. DONE. Item two: get eyebrows waxed. On my way there now….
Future Items: Figure out how to raise a toddler; love husband; say hello to my friends in person, prepare for 2nd baby, buy new underoos.
Titillating stuff. 😀