Friday, February 26, 2010

Moving a mound sometimes just digs a pit

We all have those times when we have an "a-ha!" moment or come to some kind of realization that we feel the need to share with everyone, and, even though our intention is good, the outcome usually is not. Unfortunately that is most often the case for me.

I make a very conscious effort to pick my battles and honestly feel I do a pretty terrific job, but often I wonder where the issue stops being my problem and instead wonder what the heck is wrong with some people!

Being a fairly logical thinking person, I often look at obstacles with optimism. When I'm going to approach a problem, I much prefer to have a solution on hand. I try to be aware of my mood and body language so that I am tactfully approaching things in a non-confrontational manner. But at the same time, it is very difficult for a person who is as strong minded as I am to just shut up and take any kind of shit from someone, regardless of who they are.

Most days I feel that I definately am working in the wrong industry, and should have pursued a career in law or politics because of my "stick it to the man" personality.
When I don't get the end result I was looking for from a challenge, I have a rather creative knack for putting things into perspective, whether it be mine or someone else's, which in turn ends up getting a result I at least feel some satisfaction with.

Weeks ago I was put through a couple of challenges that both proved to not to be worth the time or effort of the fight, and instead created bigger problems. I had the little voice in my head (whom hardly gets a chance to say much to begin with ) telling me to let it go, and just back down. But the Army Drill Sargeant who runs the show in my decision making had a much louder, authorative voice. Woulda, coulda, shoulda, but didn't. None the less, the hole is dug, so I now must get out.

I don't do well with notes/ e-mails being left for me, to decipher what the problem is, the tone of the communication, and more so- back handed snarky remarks. I would much rather have someone approach me face to face and discuss what the issue is. But I also realize that this type of conflict resolution is what works for me, and not everyone else. Some people think face to face interaction equals confrontation which is not always the case. But some folks are very much afraid of the whole possibility of that kind of scenario, and will avoid it at all costs. When I reply to something like that, no matter how hard I try to sound respectful, it always comes out looking like I'm being a complete bitch. If I choose not to reply, it looks like I'm backing down, which I don't like either. And if I reply in person (my way of preference) then I am viewed as being aggressive, and the issue ends up escalating.

I think I'm going to hire a singing telegram for the next issue I have with someone. Who can get mad at someone mid song?

Monday, February 22, 2010

Popping the blog cherry. Preface

Years ago, when I was working for a major retail chain in customer service, the one part of every day I looked forward to was my 1/2 hour lunch break, where I would often head outside to the back of the store, where there was a garden area and picnic table, complete with umbrella. It wasn't much, but it was certainly a much needed change of scenery. It provided me with a chance to get away from the hectic stressful obstacles of the work day and cool down, vent, and just recharge myself so I could prepare myself for round 2 until I was done for the day.

I am severely allergic to bees, in fact I guess you could say I am deathly allergic. I have to carry an Epipen in case I should ever get stung. So when a nest of bees built quite an impressive hive about 5 feet away from my break area, I guess I should have realized even then God, or Karma or Destiny or whichever hands of fate were responsible for this hive of aggressive bees, had a very demented sense of humour. One that would become the very thread of my existence. I can appreciate a demented sense of humour.

So the bees moved in, and became incredibly territorial as most Africanized crossbred bees do, and every time I needed to "escape" from my work place, I often ended up becoming the ridiclue of my workplace as I ran screaming from the back of the store, moving my arms in all sorts of contorted movements, very similar to that of one having a grand maul seizure, as a few pissed off bees chased me away. I tried smoking them out, I even went to the trouble of hooking up a garden hose from the side of building, and brought that out with me to soak those bees if they started with me. Didn't work. Then I just thought- fuck it- and started bringing my lunch out with me. Can't beat 'em, join 'em. And I just learned to remain calm and still as one, then two, then four bees landed on my hand while I was eating or drinking, and just decided to let them have a bite too. Win-win situation.

Eventually those bees became cool with me being on their turf, and I regained a sense of calm from a place I hadn't ever thought I would. This blog is about me describing the satyrical, ironic and even humourous exploits of my everyday life.
I laugh at myself, often. I have to, otherwise I would end up stark raving mad and owning stock in pharmaceutical companies. So now you can laugh at me too. Enjoy.