Caterwauling

Someone asked if I were at the DNC this week. I LOL’d. Yes I had the opportunity. And it’s in Philly. I love Philly. HYOOGE fan of Philly. Also, #imwithher.

But, life.

I might as well tell the story of Tuesday or whatever day it was that was not very fun this week. In very edited glory.

For context, let’s say I am a trained surgeon. Trained myself over a decade ago. Particularly skilled in patching up battle wounds and being calm during mass trauma.

Let’s say that I spent the last five years filing paperwork for those surgeons. Occasionally jumping in to do some stitches when I can’t find anyone. Occasionally being asked why I use blue ink instead of black in that paperwork.

Then let’s say the ambulance bay is suddenly full and the surgeon is on one of the beds and the best I can do is dial a friend for a lifeline.

So yeah, lunch? Not so much.

Also, I had plans to actually attend a DNC viewing party — I got invited to three of them in Delray, Boca and Braddock Beaches — but yeah. Not so much.

Somewhere around 7 p.m., I decide hey let’s go to Popeye’s. I have consumed no calories today. LIVE IT UP. SPICY CHICKEN AND RED BEANS FOR EVERYONE, BIATCH.

I get two large teas — unsweet for me, and sweet for mom — and go home for my own viewing party.

Note that I never buy myself a drink. Ever. I can only carry so much, and I will ALWAYS pick mom over me.

Just as I get to my front door, the drink carrier caves in. With one hand free, I can only save one drink. I pick Mom’s.

And thank God, really, because who wants a GALLON OF SUGAR outside their front door?

I think there were more no good, very bad things throughout the day. But those are the only ones I will type out loud.

Now I’m left with Jesus I wasn’t ready to be a surgeon again. I’d like to be but A LITTLE WARNING would have helped. And now I am living in utter terror of the next trauma to walk through the door.

Thank God for Cory Booker, Michelle Obama, Joe Biden and Barack Obama for saving that night and last night. Because of them, I have pride in my country and in my work and will try again today with a renewed swell of purpose in my heart.

I tell you, election season is my Olympics. At least one I can participate in. And I hope against hope that we will go for — and GET — the gold in November … and shatter that glass ceiling once and for all.

Back on 9/11 (yes THAT day), my CEO called a moment of silence during a particularly terse meeting. (They were all terse, to be fair. Ask me why I refuse to speak in meetings. Go ahead, ask.)

I was so, so grateful for that moment. We needed it even without the terrorism. But it really did help bring us back to our right minds. 

Last week, I was tweeting with one of my famous friends that no one calls a moment of silence anymore, it seems. It’s like we go from tragedy to tragedy without a break. I don’t mean in my world — I mean in general. 

We cannot collect our collective shit before the next batch hits the solar-powered fan, you know?

I think about that crazy CEO. All but two people have run screaming from her clutches. Out of some 150. I wonder if she’s still masterful at administrating beatings and then being classy for outsiders to see. 

I wonder if she still pauses to let people regroup when crazy shit happens nationally but makes them endure excoriations with nary a break … Until she found someone else to pick on. 

Anyway. I’m heartsick today and thinking of her is only intensifying my headache. But I wonder if someone like me is being impressed with her good leadership moments and will take them with her wherever she goes … Just like I did. 

I get a lot wrong. But so did everyone else. And we all have a lot of screw-ups left in us. Let’s just hope we can live to lead another day … And in a better way. 

It’s gone from annoying to unnerving, the way 10 Cherry Tomatoes Short of a Salad keeps asking when the position I hold will open up. I’m led to wonder whether I’m getting a promotion or the business end of a boot. I vote promotion. 

Eureka I say. 

I get it now. Everything makes sense. 

Clarity is a wonderful thing. 

I don’t see the solutions. But I see the reasons. 

And maybe the latter will accelerate the arrival of the former. 

Gotta love going in for an oil change and out with a list of six other things to fix. 

My new mechanic said how the hell did your last guy let you get past 100K miles without regular scheduled maintenance?

I need to check on some of the recommended items. I’m letting him do the transmission fluid. But that’s worth more than the car itself. He gave me a good idea. Just think of each repair as a car payment and then in two months I won’t have a “car payment.”

I like the idea but won’t discount a meteor falling out of the sky first. You know, just like it rains the day you wash the jalopy. 

What I like about this place is they open early and stay late. I always arrive 20 minutes before they open. Not a car left over from the previous day. But the lot is packed by 9 am. 

Vinny has cars wrapped around the block at all times. I always appreciated that he got me right in and out as soon as he could. But what about other people who need to get around? 

It got me to thinking about people I work(ed) with. I would finish the cars to be considerate that my customers have things to do and don’t need further inconvenience. Others I could name would take two weeks off in mid-repair. 

Once I had one of those people leave early and say in their email autoresponder that they believe they are done for the day and all caught up. I would have laughed if I weren’t strapped over a barrel because of it. 

Anyway. Fuck Vinny. Welcome Dave. If I’m gonna be strapped over a money pit, I’m happier that it’s with this guy. 

What I wouldn’t give to have an opportunity of the present day, coupled with the resources of yesteryear. 

Who knew I would miss my laptop,  trading account and ability to watch CNBC so much …

Wondering if I threw away my chance to be something. And if I’ll ever get another. 

Fought with the landlord’s new girlfriend over text all weekend. I cannot believe how much they insult me and my intelligence. Horrid, wretched people.

I was up half the night worrying about work too. The upstairs neighbor was actually quiet for a change. And I still barely slept.

But I’m focusing on the positive. A problem that was created got solved. I won’t think about the other 98 problems I have to solve/help solve.

I got to thinking about the Weight Watchers “Connect” app. I watch people brag that they ate a whole cake but they tracked it and they will be better tomorrow.

I was thinking about it because of a big problem that I didn’t create, didn’t solve and didn’t even handle. And it’s giving me an ulcer.

Someone asked about it and my mental response was “well good riddance” and I thought about those “I ate the WHOLE CAKE AND LOVED IT MMMM MMMMMMMMM” people. They make jokes where they are not appropriate.

I mean yes, eat what you want, be honest about it in your tracker and promise yourself to do better the next meal/day. Fine.

But don’t be a dick about it.

I mean yes, I have to own my fuckups (even if I don’t fully believe they were within my control). Take control. Apologize. Fix it. Ask for help in fixing it. And if you don’t get it, fix it anyway. (This is where I fell down on the job. I didn’t “fix it anyway.” Because I have no idea how.)

But where I kind of look down my British nose at the people who proudly binge-ate is that this is a lifestyle, eating right. You know what I want to do when I eat cake? EAT MORE CAKE. So I cannot eat cake. It’s that simple.

I can’t snack anymore either. I don’t buy them. Because I will Hoover them in. I can’t open a bag of chips — even sea salt kale or quinoa chips — without DEMOLISHING them. So, no chips in Goddess’ world unless I know I will destroy the bag and will have to give up something else that’s delicious because of it.

Anyway, only I could try to relate food to work. But yeah. I binge on work too. Maybe not on all the right things. I know I give way more attention to certain things (like 10 Cherry Tomatoes Short of a Salad) and not to OMG This Thing is On Fire (sung in the tune of Alicia Keys). And the trade-off is my health. Ergo, wine for dinner and health problems galore.

In any event. The handbasket awaits. And of course there’s no gas in it because this is me we’re talking about!

The good news is, I will get a refund on my Key West trip. In 10 days.

The bad news, I bought it on a super-special deal that I will never, ever see again. Ever.

Sorry, Mom. Fucked up your birthday.

What I wouldn’t give to do the itinerary I had planned …

I got to thinking about the fool I would never in my right mind hire. Because, I already have Soccer Ball to the Skull 1, 2 and 3. I don’t need a whole damn army.

But I wonder if they could have found their ass with both hands long enough to cover me for the one day we wouldn’t have had any coverage.

Dipwad proclaimed to someone else that they are waiting for me to hire them for my “open position.” It honestly worries me the level of delusion one can possibly possess.

It also makes me wonder that their references have no interest in calling me back.

If there is one thing I have tried to do at every company, it’s to think of the future. And I can’t in MY right mind “will” the company (so to speak) to someone who either lies or can’t follow a simple conversation to its natural conclusion.

No participation trophies today. Even if we’re getting back to the point where bad help might be better than none at all …

When I interview people, I look for basic courtesies. The ability to tell a good story. The feeling that this person has the capability of having my back and not plunging a knife through it. The hope that tough situations will be made more bearable by their presence and assistance.

The last few times I hired, that’s what I hired. I think it worked out for the best, for the most part. One ended up having zero talent beyond being a nice person. Another had mad talent but fell off the grid and proved to be a bit on the unreliable side. And the third is still with me, keeping me sane for the most part.

I had the chance to interview someone recently. I absolutely wanted nothing to do with this person going into it. No manners. No grace. No access to a shower that morning, apparently. Just, all-around bleah.

The interview was OK. Showered, check. I didn’t see effort as far as dress or other preparation. And someone needs to put a shock collar on that one to notify them when they say something that makes me go, “Did they just say that?” And I’m not even a formal type of person. Because, let’s count the stupid things I say in a day. Hmmm. …

Anyway, I got to wondering whether I would do better managing someone who has no redeeming social qualities. 

I mean, the people who are nice and reasonable AND talented are the best. But I don’t know about the people I’ve been encountering lately. You either get smarts or experience or talent or grace or personality. You don’t get them all.

I think this one could eventually learn to be anything other than a social Asperger’s case. I did not hold back in telling them (nicely) what they were doing that would piss off any reasonable interviewer type. 

This one has a level of delusion about reality in general and their own abilities in particular that concerned even me.

On the other hand, I wonder if the secret to really being an effective mentor is to not particularly care for the person. 

Like, you can care about them but not for them. 

I shared my wisdom as articulately as I could. I really didn’t care as much how it was received. Whereas with others, I said what had to be said but I was also concerned that their sensitivity would mean they didn’t take it for what it was worth (and use it).
I look at a friend who was let go recently. He was kind of everyone’s buddy rather than their boss. So they brought in someone who is more boss-like and less “someone who does the same kind of work and understands the type of people who are doing that work.”

Of course, I also see the wrong people sucking up to the new person and making things difficult for the rest of the team that actually is valuable.

I don’t know. I want to believe in being stronger together. But you really are an island in the end. And I want dragons in my moat from now on so people don’t get too close and, ultimately, drag me down with them.

There’s always the hope you can bring them up to your level. I will always have that hope. And that’s what made me invest SO MUCH in so many. But in the end, the cheese stands alone — at least at review time. And harmony does not necessarily equal profitability. And the hole in the cheese’s heart grows a little bigger because of it.

I don’t know if Stinky Cheese will become part of the charcuterie platter. But I do have a feeling that if anybody can beat them into submission, or at least destroy their dreams and/or delusions, it’ll be me.

I wouldn’t say I’m overwhelmed. But I am very, very whelmed this week.

Someone was saying that things had to be less-busy a few years ago. And I said no, they were 10 times busier.

Which surprised my friend, who thinks I just do an absolute shitload. Meet my new favorite person!

I admit I’m back to spinning plates again. And freebasing Tums. And racking up a hundred Starbucks points a week.

Unrelated I walked in with a gift card given to me with zero dollars on it. They know me very well there and said seriously, Goddess. Get new friends.

Also unrelated, have you seen the cute Starbucks/Disney tops on Etsy? I’m so buying one. Maybe for my birthday. Which is just around the corner. Eeek.

Where was I? Crap, I forgot.

Anyway I got to thinking about some good calls and decisions I’ve made recently. Which get me to sleep at night when I’m obsessing over everything else that isn’t getting done.

And then I get to thinking about possibly hiring again. Which, after the Kid, I’d rather light myself on fire and jump from the top of the Orlando Eye. And I am not quite yet qualified to offer an opinion on the person standing there waiting, hoping and praying for the (a?) job. But I have the same feeling I had pre-Kid … warm body is not necessarily better than nobody.

Then again, I wouldn’t BE SO BEHIND if, for a few bucks, I could be passing some bucks.

Anyway, back to Whelmed World. Whelmed World. Party Time. Excellent …