Hatchet Lady, redux
So, I had to let another employee go this week. Just call me the hatchet lady!
I didn’t do the firing. But I made the decision. And the case for it.
My boss often remarks about my incredible threshold for pain. And I’ve told her that, look, I do have boundaries that are far and wide … but I do have them. And once I’m past them, look out world!
I got shoved to said boundaries about a week ago. I found my way back. And got catapulted over them once and for all.
It’s one thing to get rid of someone whose mug shot appears in your inbox one week to the day that you fire them (like the last instance. *ahem*), but it’s harder when you actually have a vested interest in someone both on and off company time.
No, it’s nothing like *that*, but when you put your neck out for someone, you don’t want to need a brace for said neck, either.
I’m not assigning fault. I don’t think it’s necessary to even say it should be shared — I just don’t think there’s any in general. It’s like putting a Gemini and a Sagittarius in a room together … either the opposites will love each other, or it just won’t work at all. The end.
I don’t have any hard feelings. It’s more that I have no feelings left other than a strange mixture of exhaustion and relief.
And THAT is what made my decision. The, “What do you mean, I don’t have to do this? For real? Well, score!”
And yet, I still thought of alternatives to parting ways. But when I presented said alternatives, it was the reaction I was unprepared for.
Instead of, “What can we do to fix this?” or “You know, I really appreciate you going the extra mile here,” it was basically, “Fuck you, and the horse you rode in on.”
Enter the catapult over the pain-threshold line. I still don’t think I’ve landed yet.
Also enter two late-night texts requesting final favors, and I don’t think I am going to turn my phone back on for a week. I had agreed with myself to keep it off for the weekend (save for making arrangements to meet people), but I’m ready to call AT&T and tell them to disconnect my service!
Anyway, I went to a lovely birthday party last night, and I fell in love with my friend’s new townhouse. I hate townhouses, and I hate the part of town she lives in, but I could totally see myself loving that kind of house.
I would miss my balcony that hangs over the Intracoastal. And the fact that I can see the ocean from my living room. But the bitchy landlady here can keep the ants and all the other problems that she threatens eviction over when I ask her to fix them.
I e-mailed the townhouse community to say that if they could find me that layout with a view of water, sign my ass up for the next-available unit.
I know a car is my next purchase. But seeing a pretty house! With furniture and not boxes everywhere! warmed my little heart. I don’t spend any time at home so I don’t give a shit what it looks like. But I want to start caring again. I spend too much money on real estate to justify all the time I spend AWAY from it.
What would I do with the UEOEH? Well, her life would be in less jeopardy from me booting her butt into the large body of water below us. 🙂 I doubt she’d want to live in the townhouse because of the stairs. That would give me a PERFECT excuse to ship her ass back to Pittsburgh.
I still think I’m destined to live in Baltimore. And that the only real value to living in South Florida is to be in a town that ends in the word “Beach.” But if there’s one thing I learned from the latest employee brou-ha-ha, it’s that I am not forced at gunpoint to fulfill ANY relationship I enter. And the moment it feels that way, is the signal to get the fuck out of it ASAP.