In the background of all this noise, behind the computer screens and late night phone calls, you would see a woman with her finger pads aching, frantically typing the last paragraphs on a 25 page proposal or playing with the budget numbers one final time.
While all of this has been going on, I'm trying to complete the biggest project of my (very short-lived) professional writing career. My organization, in collaboration with two other non-profit organizations in the county, are applying for a federal grant program to support legal assistance and representation for victims of domestic abuse. The current budget for the project is in excess of $850,000.
Right now in southeast Texas, funding restrictions prohibit undocumented immigrants and working-poor victims from receiving pro bono legal representation. Even though undocumented victims are eligble for U visas through the Victims of Trafficking and Violence Prevention Act, they can't receive application assistance or even legal advocacy at the Social Security Office or the Immigration and Customs Enforcement Office in Houston. Legal aid funding prohibits the legal representation of any non-U.S. citizens or U.S. citizens above 125% of the poverty line.
Basically, all of those threats that an abuser makes, the ones that sound something like: "If you call the police, they will deport you...You will never see your children again....If you ever tell anyone what I did to you, I will take the kids away from you...You can never get away from me...I'll find you...you are still legally mine," are essentially true for these victims that can't access legal services.
For working-poor women, it's a tough line between "makes too much to qualify for services," but, "still can't afford a private attorney". Very, very few women can come up with a $2,000 retainer for a private attorney, especially when her annual household income is just over $12,000.
That is what I've been working on and why the noises around me sound more like static and less like a cacophonous orchestra. I haven't slept uninterrupted in more than three weeks. The medical mystery has been solved: Zac is getting all four of his molars in at once. He wakes up sometimes 2 or 3 times a night, even while lying next to me. I'm so tired that the numbers start merging in my brain and I end up trying to budget the salary of a paralegal at the same rate that I'm budgeting for a client advocate and counselor.
The enormity of what I'm doing and the amount of people we could serve if our proposal is accepted is enough to keep my head up and my eyes clear. There are many, many women in worse positions than I am. A bruised ego and a hurting heart will heal, even though some moments are harder than others.
Right now, I'm just trying to honor the 143 women and children that died last year in Texas at the hands of the abuser.
Showing posts with label Professional Idiocy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Professional Idiocy. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Sunday, October 15, 2006
10/15
The gala was....well....not what I had expected. I guess I was secretly hoping for the wonderful, magical evening where you meet a lot of interesting, funny, engaging people on a sweet buzz of white wine and champagne. I wanted to be beautiful - transformed into some kind of socialite that devotes herself to looking good and volunteering for "causes".
In reality, it was a work event that I attended with an ex-boyfriend in a dress that kept showing my not-so-discrete unmentionables. Magical it was not. At one point in the evening, I sat down on one of the few chairs next to R. (I had very cute shoes that My New Shoes helped me pick out during her trip to Houston. The irony didn't escape either of us). My boss came up behind me in a whirl of organza and designer shoes and hissed, "DON'T SIT TOO LONG! Those chairs ARE NOT for staff members." So I got up. I told R. to get up and we ate more food.
Yup, I will say that there was some great, great food at the event. I tried everything - twice. R. drank a bit of wine, but not too much. I think he had a bit of fun, but not too much. Even when I was introducing him to people, and I put my hand on his back or turned to him, he managed to stay exactly six inches apart from me. It was like there was an invisible barrier around me that he refused to penetrate. It frustrated the hell out of me. I just wanted to pull him close, shake him up a bit and demand: "Act normal towards me! At least pretend that you like to be around me in front of all of my work colleagues!! Some of these people knew that we were dating!"
It's not his fault. It's mine. I asked him for a favor because I didn't want to go alone. If I had known what a "work event" the gala would be I wouldn't have been so concerned about needing a date. He and I are still working on being friends and we talked after the event. I drove to his house because he accidentally left with my cell phone in his suit pocket. I made a fool out of myself. I didn't want to be alone. We talked and joked about the bad hair and stupid outfits that we saw and the food that we ate.
I haven't heard from him since that night. I would still like to be friends with him.
In reality, it was a work event that I attended with an ex-boyfriend in a dress that kept showing my not-so-discrete unmentionables. Magical it was not. At one point in the evening, I sat down on one of the few chairs next to R. (I had very cute shoes that My New Shoes helped me pick out during her trip to Houston. The irony didn't escape either of us). My boss came up behind me in a whirl of organza and designer shoes and hissed, "DON'T SIT TOO LONG! Those chairs ARE NOT for staff members." So I got up. I told R. to get up and we ate more food.
Yup, I will say that there was some great, great food at the event. I tried everything - twice. R. drank a bit of wine, but not too much. I think he had a bit of fun, but not too much. Even when I was introducing him to people, and I put my hand on his back or turned to him, he managed to stay exactly six inches apart from me. It was like there was an invisible barrier around me that he refused to penetrate. It frustrated the hell out of me. I just wanted to pull him close, shake him up a bit and demand: "Act normal towards me! At least pretend that you like to be around me in front of all of my work colleagues!! Some of these people knew that we were dating!"
It's not his fault. It's mine. I asked him for a favor because I didn't want to go alone. If I had known what a "work event" the gala would be I wouldn't have been so concerned about needing a date. He and I are still working on being friends and we talked after the event. I drove to his house because he accidentally left with my cell phone in his suit pocket. I made a fool out of myself. I didn't want to be alone. We talked and joked about the bad hair and stupid outfits that we saw and the food that we ate.
I haven't heard from him since that night. I would still like to be friends with him.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
10/11
October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month and shelters, crisis hot-lines, and womens' centers around the country are speaking out on behalf of victim-survivors that are swallowed by silence and shame. Tomorrow my organization is hosting a fundraiser (the said 'gala' that I've mentioned before) to raise money for legal representation of victims for family law litigation and batterers intervention and prevention counseling groups.
The Texas Council on Family Violence just posted the stories of the women, children, and abusers that were killed in 2005 as a result of domestic violence on their webpage. Please go and check it out. Each victim deserves to have their name remembered and their silence broken.
The speaker at the event is Debra Sanchez, who watched her daughter, Leza Marie Maddalone, 31, shot to death in a bank parking lot by her estranged ex-boyfriend, Bruce Glen Milner. TCFV reports that, "According to the Brazoria County police officers, Leza's two children witnessed the shooting." Mrs. Sanchez now has custody of her two grandchildren. Lawyers at my organization helped prosecute and convict Milner for Leza's murder.
But there are many, many other stories.
Like the murder of Irene Torres Belding, 42. Irene and her two children were shot and killed in their home by Irene's husband, John Francis Belding, 42, in an apparent murder-suicide. According to police, Belding shot his family in a bedroom and then killed himself. He left a suicide note saying he was sorry. The couple's children were six and seven.
Martha Lopez, 24, was killed when her husband, Elias Martinez, 29, slit her throat while she slept. According to police, Martiez first claimed that his wife had committed suicide, but later confessed to killing Martha. Police believed Martinez killed Martha because she was going to leave him and file for divorce. The couple's 2 year-old son was in the room and may have witnessed his mother's death.
'Family Violence' is no longer nameless.
The Texas Council on Family Violence just posted the stories of the women, children, and abusers that were killed in 2005 as a result of domestic violence on their webpage. Please go and check it out. Each victim deserves to have their name remembered and their silence broken.
The speaker at the event is Debra Sanchez, who watched her daughter, Leza Marie Maddalone, 31, shot to death in a bank parking lot by her estranged ex-boyfriend, Bruce Glen Milner. TCFV reports that, "According to the Brazoria County police officers, Leza's two children witnessed the shooting." Mrs. Sanchez now has custody of her two grandchildren. Lawyers at my organization helped prosecute and convict Milner for Leza's murder.
But there are many, many other stories.
Like the murder of Irene Torres Belding, 42. Irene and her two children were shot and killed in their home by Irene's husband, John Francis Belding, 42, in an apparent murder-suicide. According to police, Belding shot his family in a bedroom and then killed himself. He left a suicide note saying he was sorry. The couple's children were six and seven.
Martha Lopez, 24, was killed when her husband, Elias Martinez, 29, slit her throat while she slept. According to police, Martiez first claimed that his wife had committed suicide, but later confessed to killing Martha. Police believed Martinez killed Martha because she was going to leave him and file for divorce. The couple's 2 year-old son was in the room and may have witnessed his mother's death.
'Family Violence' is no longer nameless.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
9/28
Bullet-style because I'm all fired up today:
- Came into work today to find a borderline abusive e-mail from my boss. The irony that we work for an organization that tries to end violence in personal relationships doesn't seem to strike her. I was told to "use more common sense". I'm still angry that someone in a professional setting (my boss no less) would write that to me.
- I ran out of gas yesterday at the big-chain daycare center. I left work with only 1/4 of a tank, went the grocery store for the items that I forgot when I went to the grocery store the night before, and then pulled in to get Zac. The daycare center doesn't have a parking lot, it has a glorified drive-thru where you park, get out, go retrieve the fruit of your loins, then get back in the car. Apparently, the Shoe Nazis reason that parents might be encouraged to talk more to the child's caregivers if they had a safe place to put their vehicle. My car was parked on a steep slant, away from my gas tank. I didn't have enough gas to turn my engine over.
- So I walked three blocks to the closest gas station, after unsuccessfully trying to jump my car, thinking that it was a battery problem.
- I walked in 90 degree, late-September heat with Zac in a stroller, sweating, getting bit by mesquitos
- in high heels
- to purchase a gas can and walk three blocks back to give my car two gallons of gas. Then started said car and drove home.
- I lost four pounds this week, according to the scale at Weight Watchers. That is the biggest loss in a single week since I started this journey.
- Turns out that drinking water (so much damned water) in a day really can help you lose weight. Just like all those water-fanatics keep preaching. The Nalgene bottle is in hand, now back off and no one will get hurt.
- I'm getting the permanent fillings in my three, highly battered teeth tomorrow. They are still tender and my jaw is sore from the needles and staying open for business for three hours. I'm hoping to have a better weekend, though.
- And at least forget that although I'm getting paid better at this job, I still don't have any respect.
- And I still feel like I can't do ANYTHING RIGHT!
Thursday, September 14, 2006
9/14
Well that was fun. I had just finished composing a post here and my work computer decided to play the "Let's shut off randomly while she's typing" game. They have a contract IT guy here that doesn't return phone calls. My computer has been doing that every day for almost two weeks now. I've been reduced to schlepping my laptop computer to and from work everyday, which is both heavy and annoying.
Anyways, I was writing that I rejoined the cult known as Weight Watchers after a month abscence from attending meetings. I regained 1.8 lbs, which isn't that bad considering how much I've been binging. Lately, I've been sitting down with my computer on my lap, playing with a blog template or IMing friends, with a bag of baked Cheetos beside me. When I look up, the bag is empty, which leaves me wondering, "Who ate all my chips?"
So, yet again, I pick up Zac, put him in the car, drive to the meeting, take him out of the car, and spent the next 45 minutes trying to keep him both occupied and quiet. The only problem is, my son loves to hear his own voice. He babbles, shouts, growls, and roars and chases after balls, pushes his toy trucks on the floor, and generally makes a big nuisance out of himself. I also want to start exercising again. I
've been taking walks with Zac in the jogging stroller that my friends got me for my baby shower, but I can't maintain enough enthusiasm to walk in Houston for the amount of time I need to get in shape. Running is especially difficult while holding onto a handlebar and trying to navigate traffic and 2ft sidewalks. Mostly, I want to take an aerobic or spin classes. Do 45 minutes on a eliptical trainer while watching the Today show. I want to share my sweat with other people who want to get in shape!!
Certainly, I can hire a babysitter to watch Zac, or even use the childcare facilities at the gym. It's just that he spends the E-N-T-I-R-E day at daycare, around other kids, sharing germs and head butting each other, away from Mommy. Most days, I think he likes day care. He seems to get bored on the weekends when he only has adults and toys to play with. It's just the thought of putting him back into that situation again, even to take care of my body, makes me cringe.
What I really want is someone to share the parenting duties with. I don't want someone to "watch" Zac while I'm not around, I want someone to love him. *Here is where the pity party starts in earnest. You might want to shield your eyes from direct exposure to my self-pity*
I want to be able to say: "Here. Here is my son Zac. He likes to eat at 5:45pm and you should hide all the bananas in the room if you want him to focus on eating dinner. He likes Hamburger Helper and sliced pears. Don't ask me why. He likes to throw balls on the floor and he will expect you to throw it back. Bathe him, love him like he is your own, and put him to bed. I'll be back in two hours." But there is no one there most days and those words die on my tongue, while I sit down to eat another bag of Cheetos.
Anyways, I was writing that I rejoined the cult known as Weight Watchers after a month abscence from attending meetings. I regained 1.8 lbs, which isn't that bad considering how much I've been binging. Lately, I've been sitting down with my computer on my lap, playing with a blog template or IMing friends, with a bag of baked Cheetos beside me. When I look up, the bag is empty, which leaves me wondering, "Who ate all my chips?"
So, yet again, I pick up Zac, put him in the car, drive to the meeting, take him out of the car, and spent the next 45 minutes trying to keep him both occupied and quiet. The only problem is, my son loves to hear his own voice. He babbles, shouts, growls, and roars and chases after balls, pushes his toy trucks on the floor, and generally makes a big nuisance out of himself. I also want to start exercising again. I
've been taking walks with Zac in the jogging stroller that my friends got me for my baby shower, but I can't maintain enough enthusiasm to walk in Houston for the amount of time I need to get in shape. Running is especially difficult while holding onto a handlebar and trying to navigate traffic and 2ft sidewalks. Mostly, I want to take an aerobic or spin classes. Do 45 minutes on a eliptical trainer while watching the Today show. I want to share my sweat with other people who want to get in shape!!
Certainly, I can hire a babysitter to watch Zac, or even use the childcare facilities at the gym. It's just that he spends the E-N-T-I-R-E day at daycare, around other kids, sharing germs and head butting each other, away from Mommy. Most days, I think he likes day care. He seems to get bored on the weekends when he only has adults and toys to play with. It's just the thought of putting him back into that situation again, even to take care of my body, makes me cringe.
What I really want is someone to share the parenting duties with. I don't want someone to "watch" Zac while I'm not around, I want someone to love him. *Here is where the pity party starts in earnest. You might want to shield your eyes from direct exposure to my self-pity*
I want to be able to say: "Here. Here is my son Zac. He likes to eat at 5:45pm and you should hide all the bananas in the room if you want him to focus on eating dinner. He likes Hamburger Helper and sliced pears. Don't ask me why. He likes to throw balls on the floor and he will expect you to throw it back. Bathe him, love him like he is your own, and put him to bed. I'll be back in two hours." But there is no one there most days and those words die on my tongue, while I sit down to eat another bag of Cheetos.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
8/24
I'm tired of writing how my heart is hurting. I'm tired of actually having my heart be hurt. I'm tired of getting all worked up about something, only to find out that everything is, indeed, fine and I didn't need to get so upset.
In summary, I'm tired of dealing with other people.
Last night, Zac and I played on the floor: me assembling his foam puzzle from American Baby, and he destroying the said puzzle in his best, "I'm a toy-tester and no one can stop me," kind of way. I waited for the phone to ring. Waited for my heart to stop hurting.
It didn't happen.
---------------
Day 4 at the new job:
I bundled myself up today. There are nuns in Florida right now showing more skin than I am right now in my office. I'm wearing gray trousers, a white button-down shirt, black sweater vest, SOCKS, and black loafers. Yes - I do look like a pubscent, 1980's prep-school boy. Why do you ask?
I don't think that I've worn socks in over eight months. My feet are enjoying the cushy softness and it's mid-day and I can still feel my toes. Granted, I sweated all the way into work, trying to wipe the perspiration off my face to see the road through the blinding glare of the Houston sun.
But it's worth it.
Oh yes, it is worth it.
I'm considering purchasing a space heater next pay check, just to make sure that I don't cause any permanent damage to my extremities.
In summary, I'm tired of dealing with other people.
Last night, Zac and I played on the floor: me assembling his foam puzzle from American Baby, and he destroying the said puzzle in his best, "I'm a toy-tester and no one can stop me," kind of way. I waited for the phone to ring. Waited for my heart to stop hurting.
It didn't happen.
---------------
Day 4 at the new job:
I bundled myself up today. There are nuns in Florida right now showing more skin than I am right now in my office. I'm wearing gray trousers, a white button-down shirt, black sweater vest, SOCKS, and black loafers. Yes - I do look like a pubscent, 1980's prep-school boy. Why do you ask?
I don't think that I've worn socks in over eight months. My feet are enjoying the cushy softness and it's mid-day and I can still feel my toes. Granted, I sweated all the way into work, trying to wipe the perspiration off my face to see the road through the blinding glare of the Houston sun.
But it's worth it.
Oh yes, it is worth it.
I'm considering purchasing a space heater next pay check, just to make sure that I don't cause any permanent damage to my extremities.
Monday, August 21, 2006
8/21
First day at the new job....
5am: Zac decides to wake up and scream. Then scream some more. Then make me his bitch by screaming so long that I go into his room, pick his crying butt up out the crib, and bring him into my room. Where he starts to play.
5:45am: I take the baby-that-wants-to-play back into his own room. He can play in there dammit!
6am: Z. stops screaming and goes back to sleep. I go back to sleep for 58.23 minutes
6:58.23: Wake up and get into the shower
7am: Zac wakes up while I'm shampooing my hair. Give yourself extra points if you think he woke up screaming, cuz he did.
7:15am: I decide that it would be a good idea to distract Zac with my actual cell phone (rather than his play cell phone, and yes, he has a play cell phone and, no, comments about me indoctrinating my child with a toy cell phone would not be appreciated) while I blow dry my hair.
7:30am: Leave the house sans cell phone. Can't remember where he was last playing with it.
8am: Arrive, bright and chipper at my new place of work. Find out that the receptionist and I are the first ones to arrive in the office.
8:10am: Try to find my new office by walking through a maze of hallways and closed, locked doors. Get asked if I'm the new legal intern.
8:25am: The head boss comes in, unlocks my office, and spends the next thirty minutes on the phone with the contract IT guy getting my computer login password. Finally end up logging on.
10:30am: Finish talking to the head boss about the "streams of income" into the organization. Glaze over. Consider intraveneously administering Diet Coke into my blood stream.
10:45am: Finally break down and put on the sweater that the accountant left behind last week when she was in this office. Realize that it is 62 degrees in my office and I can't feel my feet anymore. Ask the receptionist to call maintenance.
10:47am: Holy crap! The maintenance guy shows up and starts tinkering with the thermostat. At my old job, it would have taken a work order, a couple of weeks wait time, and a sigh when I would have been told that I there was nothing they could do about the temperature.
11:16am: Wonder when lunch is.
11:17am: Get asked by a different co-worker if I'm the new legal intern.
5am: Zac decides to wake up and scream. Then scream some more. Then make me his bitch by screaming so long that I go into his room, pick his crying butt up out the crib, and bring him into my room. Where he starts to play.
5:45am: I take the baby-that-wants-to-play back into his own room. He can play in there dammit!
6am: Z. stops screaming and goes back to sleep. I go back to sleep for 58.23 minutes
6:58.23: Wake up and get into the shower
7am: Zac wakes up while I'm shampooing my hair. Give yourself extra points if you think he woke up screaming, cuz he did.
7:15am: I decide that it would be a good idea to distract Zac with my actual cell phone (rather than his play cell phone, and yes, he has a play cell phone and, no, comments about me indoctrinating my child with a toy cell phone would not be appreciated) while I blow dry my hair.
7:30am: Leave the house sans cell phone. Can't remember where he was last playing with it.
8am: Arrive, bright and chipper at my new place of work. Find out that the receptionist and I are the first ones to arrive in the office.
8:10am: Try to find my new office by walking through a maze of hallways and closed, locked doors. Get asked if I'm the new legal intern.
8:25am: The head boss comes in, unlocks my office, and spends the next thirty minutes on the phone with the contract IT guy getting my computer login password. Finally end up logging on.
10:30am: Finish talking to the head boss about the "streams of income" into the organization. Glaze over. Consider intraveneously administering Diet Coke into my blood stream.
10:45am: Finally break down and put on the sweater that the accountant left behind last week when she was in this office. Realize that it is 62 degrees in my office and I can't feel my feet anymore. Ask the receptionist to call maintenance.
10:47am: Holy crap! The maintenance guy shows up and starts tinkering with the thermostat. At my old job, it would have taken a work order, a couple of weeks wait time, and a sigh when I would have been told that I there was nothing they could do about the temperature.
11:16am: Wonder when lunch is.
11:17am: Get asked by a different co-worker if I'm the new legal intern.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
8/16
It took me a full minute to remember what day it was. That is the problem with not working...I lose track of time faster than Zac can poop on the carpet. Jenna e-mailed me today asking if I was ok and, honestly, I'm pretty dang good, all things considered.
Yesterday was my last day of work at the Houston Food Bank. I was supposed to finish last Friday, but with Zac being sick two days last week, I ended up extending my work until this week. And, really? Who needs a week vacation. Oh wait - I know - I do. Between stress headaches and just plain stress, I'm wound pretty tight. I would consider maiming someone to get the hell out of Texas for a while. While it was hard saying goodbye to all my coworkers at the food bank, I felt oddly detached from everything. It's like I can see it happening, but it's happening to someone else.
I also have something else to confess here, mostly because he asked me if I had already done it yet. I had to sheepish admit that I hadn't told more than 2-3 people that he and I were hanging out. Well, DeepSeaDiver J. and I talked last week. I hadn't expected to hear from him. I was listening to the Norah Jones, Dolly Parton duet, "Creep on In," thinking about how some people just seem to get into my brain and not leave on their own accord. Basically, he said he had overreacted. His phone died and after not calling me for four days, he figured that I was so mad at him that he didn't try to call. When he got his phone fixed, I was like, "Whoa! I hadn't planned on hearing from you again!!"
He asked if he could meet me, so we met downtown at a Mexican restaurant. I'll say this, his pictures didn't lie, he's really handsome. And tan. And tall. And thinks that I'm beautiful. And likes to tell me that. We hung out again last night with Zac and I met his two daughters, K. and M. Zac decided to have a massive separation anxiety attack at his house that led to a complete meltdown. I realized that I don't really take Zac as many places as I think I do. Really, he spends most of his time at my apartment, daycare, or Grandma and Grandpa's house. He's been to SJ's house twice, but other than that, the kid just likes to play with the musical turtle in his crib and crawl around naked in the company of those he loves.
It's understandable.
So, J. and I had an agreement early on that if we were ever to start dating, that we would only date each other. No more blind dates for me, at least for a while. It's time I give a relationship room to grow, without scheduling (or even double scheduling) another date. I was getting ready to hang up my saddle, whether things worked out with J. or not. I've made some male friends through my adventures and I'm looking forward to getting to know them better.
That's the story. Now, pardon me while I go take another nap.
Yesterday was my last day of work at the Houston Food Bank. I was supposed to finish last Friday, but with Zac being sick two days last week, I ended up extending my work until this week. And, really? Who needs a week vacation. Oh wait - I know - I do. Between stress headaches and just plain stress, I'm wound pretty tight. I would consider maiming someone to get the hell out of Texas for a while. While it was hard saying goodbye to all my coworkers at the food bank, I felt oddly detached from everything. It's like I can see it happening, but it's happening to someone else.
I also have something else to confess here, mostly because he asked me if I had already done it yet. I had to sheepish admit that I hadn't told more than 2-3 people that he and I were hanging out. Well, DeepSeaDiver J. and I talked last week. I hadn't expected to hear from him. I was listening to the Norah Jones, Dolly Parton duet, "Creep on In," thinking about how some people just seem to get into my brain and not leave on their own accord. Basically, he said he had overreacted. His phone died and after not calling me for four days, he figured that I was so mad at him that he didn't try to call. When he got his phone fixed, I was like, "Whoa! I hadn't planned on hearing from you again!!"
He asked if he could meet me, so we met downtown at a Mexican restaurant. I'll say this, his pictures didn't lie, he's really handsome. And tan. And tall. And thinks that I'm beautiful. And likes to tell me that. We hung out again last night with Zac and I met his two daughters, K. and M. Zac decided to have a massive separation anxiety attack at his house that led to a complete meltdown. I realized that I don't really take Zac as many places as I think I do. Really, he spends most of his time at my apartment, daycare, or Grandma and Grandpa's house. He's been to SJ's house twice, but other than that, the kid just likes to play with the musical turtle in his crib and crawl around naked in the company of those he loves.
It's understandable.
So, J. and I had an agreement early on that if we were ever to start dating, that we would only date each other. No more blind dates for me, at least for a while. It's time I give a relationship room to grow, without scheduling (or even double scheduling) another date. I was getting ready to hang up my saddle, whether things worked out with J. or not. I've made some male friends through my adventures and I'm looking forward to getting to know them better.
That's the story. Now, pardon me while I go take another nap.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
7/26
It's one big lovefest over here at my current job. I gave my 'official' notice to my boss, and my boss' boss, and my boss' boss' boss. Resignation letters were floating in the wind like ragweed this morning. Even though I had given my supervisors 'unofficial' warning last week, they still seemed surprised that I actually followed through with it.
One of the most surprising parts of this whole experience, on my end, was the fact that my supervisors knew that they wouldn't be keeping me for very long. According to them, they knew that they couldn't adequately compensate me for my talent and work ethic, and they knew that I would be able to find better work for more compensation elsewhere. As my boss put it, though, he was just hoping that I wouldn't figure that out as fast as I did!
It's nice to be liked and to have my work appreciated, it's just, well - did they need to wait until I was leaving to tell me this? Maybe I would have stayed if they had given me the ability to telecommute a couple days a week instead of the 'Employee of the Month' award. I might have traded some extra income for more respect, or at least a little less disrespect. It seemed like every third day or so someone was telling me that I should expect X, or I couldn't do Y and Z because I wasn't a "Director-level position". Well, this non-director is leaving, which is making a lot of overworked directors very nervous.
One of the most surprising parts of this whole experience, on my end, was the fact that my supervisors knew that they wouldn't be keeping me for very long. According to them, they knew that they couldn't adequately compensate me for my talent and work ethic, and they knew that I would be able to find better work for more compensation elsewhere. As my boss put it, though, he was just hoping that I wouldn't figure that out as fast as I did!
It's nice to be liked and to have my work appreciated, it's just, well - did they need to wait until I was leaving to tell me this? Maybe I would have stayed if they had given me the ability to telecommute a couple days a week instead of the 'Employee of the Month' award. I might have traded some extra income for more respect, or at least a little less disrespect. It seemed like every third day or so someone was telling me that I should expect X, or I couldn't do Y and Z because I wasn't a "Director-level position". Well, this non-director is leaving, which is making a lot of overworked directors very nervous.
Monday, July 24, 2006
7/24
Big news over here in the Not-so-Pregnant, hopefully Not-so-Poor household:
The new position is at an organization that provides legal representation for victims of domestic violence. It is the same, exact job title, but with the possibility of expanding into a Director of Development position (for those of you that have any idea what that is) within the first year. It is also a substantial pay increase, which couldn't come too soon.
I'm starting in late August, giving my current job three weeks notice and then taking a week vacation. I'm not really sure what I'm going to do with a week of not working, except maybe lay on my couch a lot and watch TLC.
I'm scared that I may be suffering from "the grass is always greener on the other side" problem, but as P. pointed out to me today, in this case, even if the grass isn't greener, some more money will help fertilize the pasture. I hate that everything boils down to money. I worked for the Peace Corps for 18 months and made next to nothing. Now that I have a child, I'm realizing more and more that I can't pay the rent with my belief in a cause and I can't feed Zac with righteous indignation. Trust me. I've tried.
I got a new job!
A scary, good, exciting development.The new position is at an organization that provides legal representation for victims of domestic violence. It is the same, exact job title, but with the possibility of expanding into a Director of Development position (for those of you that have any idea what that is) within the first year. It is also a substantial pay increase, which couldn't come too soon.
I'm starting in late August, giving my current job three weeks notice and then taking a week vacation. I'm not really sure what I'm going to do with a week of not working, except maybe lay on my couch a lot and watch TLC.
I'm scared that I may be suffering from "the grass is always greener on the other side" problem, but as P. pointed out to me today, in this case, even if the grass isn't greener, some more money will help fertilize the pasture. I hate that everything boils down to money. I worked for the Peace Corps for 18 months and made next to nothing. Now that I have a child, I'm realizing more and more that I can't pay the rent with my belief in a cause and I can't feed Zac with righteous indignation. Trust me. I've tried.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
6/28
I started this post yesterday, but had to stop to save Zac from dumping an entire 24 pack of toilet paper on his head. Why the kid is sooooo interested in opening, closing, opening, and throwing out the contents of every bottom cabinet in our apartment is beyond me.
Where was I? Oh, I was going to say that you all were very, very right about Do. We talked again on Monday and he showed himself to be a judgemental asshole. Everything I said he argued with, just to prove to himself how silly and stupid I must really be.
I told him that I was really stressed on Sunday, during the drive back from my parents' house. I STILL haven't heard anything from the organization that I've had two interviews with. I know that they have contacted BOTH of my references (Monday and Tuesday). I called and left a message AGAIN today. They told me that I would know by last Friday. I'm trying to be patient, I really am. I also just submitted all of the work that a second organization asked me to submit to be evaluated for a second interview. Who ever heard of an essay round in the interviewing stage? The work I did took me about eight hours and a lot of research to try and figure out what I should submit.
Sigh.
Anyways, I was stressed out about work and money on Sunday and decided that I wanted to go for a run. I used to run a lot (back in the pre-baby days when my ass didn't hurt to move quickly). In Mongolia, I ran every day to stay in shape and zone out for a while. It's a great stress-reliever (again, if your butt doesn't begin to ache from the skin jiggling on your large arse). I called my neighbor Danny and asked if he could watch Z. for thirty minutes. Danny is great with Zac and absolutely loves (well, loves might be a strong word) but always readily agrees to watch him.
As I was driving into my neighborhood, I realized that I must have temporarily lost my mind to think that I could go running at night in north Houston. I probably shouldn't even try that during the day. When I was on the phone to Do., I told him that story and he immediately started belittling me, saying that I was letting my fear run my life. He said that a group of men drinking beer, hanging out on a street corner at 9:30pm is no more of a threat to me than picking some flowers out of a wild meadow. I ended up getting off the phone with him, very angrily. He wrote me this e-mail in response:
"Don't take this the wrong way, but truthfully speaking, your whole psyche is illogical. Riiiiight, it makes a whole lot of sense to avoid large groups of men who are drinking and almost assuredly harmless, just relaxing after a long day of work and would change your tire for you at the drop of a hat or would beat someone up who was harassing you, or...you can hang out with one guy individually who seems harmless, yet does drugs, drinks, gets you pregnant, isn't there for you when you need him to be, isn't even around for the birth of the baby, and leaves you practically abandoned in a town you're unfamiliar with and in a financial situation that makes it hard for you to get by.
Yes, it's those big groups that'll always get you..."
What a sad state of affairs when both segments of the population he is describing: the large group and the individual, can and frequently do, harass, endanger, and emotionally and physically damage women.
No one has any right to throw my actions back in my face. No one.
Where was I? Oh, I was going to say that you all were very, very right about Do. We talked again on Monday and he showed himself to be a judgemental asshole. Everything I said he argued with, just to prove to himself how silly and stupid I must really be.
I told him that I was really stressed on Sunday, during the drive back from my parents' house. I STILL haven't heard anything from the organization that I've had two interviews with. I know that they have contacted BOTH of my references (Monday and Tuesday). I called and left a message AGAIN today. They told me that I would know by last Friday. I'm trying to be patient, I really am. I also just submitted all of the work that a second organization asked me to submit to be evaluated for a second interview. Who ever heard of an essay round in the interviewing stage? The work I did took me about eight hours and a lot of research to try and figure out what I should submit.
Sigh.
Anyways, I was stressed out about work and money on Sunday and decided that I wanted to go for a run. I used to run a lot (back in the pre-baby days when my ass didn't hurt to move quickly). In Mongolia, I ran every day to stay in shape and zone out for a while. It's a great stress-reliever (again, if your butt doesn't begin to ache from the skin jiggling on your large arse). I called my neighbor Danny and asked if he could watch Z. for thirty minutes. Danny is great with Zac and absolutely loves (well, loves might be a strong word) but always readily agrees to watch him.
As I was driving into my neighborhood, I realized that I must have temporarily lost my mind to think that I could go running at night in north Houston. I probably shouldn't even try that during the day. When I was on the phone to Do., I told him that story and he immediately started belittling me, saying that I was letting my fear run my life. He said that a group of men drinking beer, hanging out on a street corner at 9:30pm is no more of a threat to me than picking some flowers out of a wild meadow. I ended up getting off the phone with him, very angrily. He wrote me this e-mail in response:
"Don't take this the wrong way, but truthfully speaking, your whole psyche is illogical. Riiiiight, it makes a whole lot of sense to avoid large groups of men who are drinking and almost assuredly harmless, just relaxing after a long day of work and would change your tire for you at the drop of a hat or would beat someone up who was harassing you, or...you can hang out with one guy individually who seems harmless, yet does drugs, drinks, gets you pregnant, isn't there for you when you need him to be, isn't even around for the birth of the baby, and leaves you practically abandoned in a town you're unfamiliar with and in a financial situation that makes it hard for you to get by.
Yes, it's those big groups that'll always get you..."
What a sad state of affairs when both segments of the population he is describing: the large group and the individual, can and frequently do, harass, endanger, and emotionally and physically damage women.
No one has any right to throw my actions back in my face. No one.
Friday, June 23, 2006
6/23
It's interesting to note the reactions that people had to my last post. Was it his more conservative social views or the fact that he wanted to date a single Mom that made Do. more suspect than any other man I've dated off the internet? It reminds me of that great line from, "The World According to Garp" when the narrator's Mom proclaims that she was a Sexual Suspect because she wanted a child without being married.
The whole idea of being a Sexual Suspect is interesting to me. Who gets to decide when something is out of the framework of moral acceptability? Putting all legality aside (I'm assuming that all romantic/sexual acts encompassed in this post are legal in the 48 contiguous US states) when do people get to start using words like "sketchy", "skevvy", or "perverted" to describe another person?
I talked to a friend last night who said that she started internet dating in early 2000 - at a time when internet dating was considered more dangerous than fun. Now, it is almost as acceptable to say that you met your partner on-line as it is to say you met them at your synagogue or gym. When describing how you met your partner, the conversation might go something like this: "Well, I was checking out some new titles at Netflicks and I - just on a lark really - decided to check out *enter in any legitimate internet dating site here* and I saw Bob. We've been together ever since!"
The lack of premediation here is important: internet dating is really only truly acceptable if you didn't set out to do or don't devote a majority of your time to that pursuit. You have to have a "real life" outside of the box on the computer, or at least that's what people say. My real life isn't very interesting. Where does that leave me?
P.S. - No word from my second interview about a job offer. I called yesterday, but the Executive Director was out. I have the feeling that they offered the position to someone else. Trying to stay positive though.
The whole idea of being a Sexual Suspect is interesting to me. Who gets to decide when something is out of the framework of moral acceptability? Putting all legality aside (I'm assuming that all romantic/sexual acts encompassed in this post are legal in the 48 contiguous US states) when do people get to start using words like "sketchy", "skevvy", or "perverted" to describe another person?
I talked to a friend last night who said that she started internet dating in early 2000 - at a time when internet dating was considered more dangerous than fun. Now, it is almost as acceptable to say that you met your partner on-line as it is to say you met them at your synagogue or gym. When describing how you met your partner, the conversation might go something like this: "Well, I was checking out some new titles at Netflicks and I - just on a lark really - decided to check out *enter in any legitimate internet dating site here* and I saw Bob. We've been together ever since!"
The lack of premediation here is important: internet dating is really only truly acceptable if you didn't set out to do or don't devote a majority of your time to that pursuit. You have to have a "real life" outside of the box on the computer, or at least that's what people say. My real life isn't very interesting. Where does that leave me?
P.S. - No word from my second interview about a job offer. I called yesterday, but the Executive Director was out. I have the feeling that they offered the position to someone else. Trying to stay positive though.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
6/15
It could be a bad sign that I had to check what today's date was. I'm having one of those days that never end: "This is the day that never ends, oh yes it goes on and on my friends. Some people, woke up this morning, not knowing what it was, and now it keeps on going forever just because. This is the day that never ends...."
Brief Updates:
Second interview was just with the President of the Board. I think it went well and I should hear next week one way or the other.
My current job evaluation went fine. They rank us on a scale of 1-4, and then tell us that we can never get a 4 overall. Pretty funny if you think about it. Why even have a scale at all if you can never reach the highest point? I got a 3 on most things and a couple of 4s. The only areas I got 2s in were "interpersonal relationships". Basically, I need to play nicer with others and not instill in them enough rage to cuss me out in front of other coworkers and get fired. Oh, I also need to stop "stealing" unmarked chicken from the refrigerator and causing my cubicle mate to stop speaking to me for three days. My boss suggested that I attend a couple seminars next year to learn how to "interact with coworkers more productively." Check.
Still trying to figure out why corn doesn't digest in a person's stomach. Why does it come out whole on the other end and why do I continue to eat it (especially with macaroni and cheese), if I always have this reaction to it?
P. is coming over for dinner tonight. He offered to buy groceries this time, but still left me with the decision on what to make. I'm pretty sure he might end up eating stale Cheerios with milk and Splenda. That's what you get for making me cook after a long day, especially when you can't come over until 7:30pm.
Z. is doing well. He *FINALLY* has one tooth that has broken the gumline on the bottom. It looks like he is working on a couple more, if his exploration of his mouth with his entire hand and thumb is any indication.
Brief Updates:
Second interview was just with the President of the Board. I think it went well and I should hear next week one way or the other.
My current job evaluation went fine. They rank us on a scale of 1-4, and then tell us that we can never get a 4 overall. Pretty funny if you think about it. Why even have a scale at all if you can never reach the highest point? I got a 3 on most things and a couple of 4s. The only areas I got 2s in were "interpersonal relationships". Basically, I need to play nicer with others and not instill in them enough rage to cuss me out in front of other coworkers and get fired. Oh, I also need to stop "stealing" unmarked chicken from the refrigerator and causing my cubicle mate to stop speaking to me for three days. My boss suggested that I attend a couple seminars next year to learn how to "interact with coworkers more productively." Check.
Still trying to figure out why corn doesn't digest in a person's stomach. Why does it come out whole on the other end and why do I continue to eat it (especially with macaroni and cheese), if I always have this reaction to it?
P. is coming over for dinner tonight. He offered to buy groceries this time, but still left me with the decision on what to make. I'm pretty sure he might end up eating stale Cheerios with milk and Splenda. That's what you get for making me cook after a long day, especially when you can't come over until 7:30pm.
Z. is doing well. He *FINALLY* has one tooth that has broken the gumline on the bottom. It looks like he is working on a couple more, if his exploration of his mouth with his entire hand and thumb is any indication.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
6/1
I've mentioned here before that I'm one of the least patient people in the history of the world (that one was for you Wildflower!). Anyways, I've been experiencing the downside of impatience the past week at my job. Basically, I keep going back and forth between, "I have a good job. I LIKE MY JOB! Money is not the most important thing," and, "You can take this job and ******* (deleted for fear that one day my employer might find this site. Let me repeat again, I love my job. I just get very frustrated sometimes).
In the "for-profit" world, if you have a valuable employee, you might do things like, give them bonuses, raises, or "attaboy/girl" awards (which is the worst possible name for an award - ever). If you gave them more responsibility, you would compensate them accordingly. In the non-profit world, if you have a valuable employee, you might do things like force them to work 55-60 hours per week, give them a $7 gift certificate for a turkey at Thanksgiving, make them feel bad for asking for more compensation, or continue to heap more and more responsibility on them while continually reinforcing their position in a "supportive capacity".
I've committed my life to working in non-profits, but it is harder than ever right now to try and raise a young child on the lowest possible salary. I want to get a MA or a MBA and I would like my employer to pay for it (or at least support it). I don't know what to do. Do I wait until I have enough experience in the field to try and get a higher paying position, or do I get out now, and try and find a job at Barnes and Noble and forget about reaching any imagined potential?
Sometimes the Barnes and Noble road is only slightly more attrative than being a barrista at Starbucks. Only a little, though.
In the "for-profit" world, if you have a valuable employee, you might do things like, give them bonuses, raises, or "attaboy/girl" awards (which is the worst possible name for an award - ever). If you gave them more responsibility, you would compensate them accordingly. In the non-profit world, if you have a valuable employee, you might do things like force them to work 55-60 hours per week, give them a $7 gift certificate for a turkey at Thanksgiving, make them feel bad for asking for more compensation, or continue to heap more and more responsibility on them while continually reinforcing their position in a "supportive capacity".
I've committed my life to working in non-profits, but it is harder than ever right now to try and raise a young child on the lowest possible salary. I want to get a MA or a MBA and I would like my employer to pay for it (or at least support it). I don't know what to do. Do I wait until I have enough experience in the field to try and get a higher paying position, or do I get out now, and try and find a job at Barnes and Noble and forget about reaching any imagined potential?
Sometimes the Barnes and Noble road is only slightly more attrative than being a barrista at Starbucks. Only a little, though.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
5/24
Mantra for the day, "I am not a bad person. I am not a bad person. I am not a bad person."
I have that sinking feeling in my stomach. You know the one. The one that makes you want to jump out of your skin and scream. Occasionally, this feeling paralyzes me to my office chair (it's interesting to note that this feeling usually coincides with work). I can't move for fear of making the feeling worse.
I am not a bad person. I am not a bad person.
I went in to talk to my boss about several comments that were made to me yesterday. Basically, I get reminded at least once or twice a week that I am not director or a supervisor and my worth to the organization is directly contingent upon that. When I started this job, they had reorganized the position so I now directly report to a director, instead of the executive. I am always going into talk to my boss about things. I'm too sensitive. I expect too much. God, I'm only 25, but I feel like I deserve so much more because I have a college degree and a brain. I'm ridiculous.
I am not a bad person. I am not a bad person. I will not get fired for asking not to be treated like an administrative assistant. Yes, there are a lot of grant writers who could do my job (not to mention trained monkeys). I am not a bad person. I am a valuable employee. They might fire me, but that doesn't make me a bad person.
I asked for financial help yesterday. Help was promised with the understanding that I should never ask for help again. It was also told to me that I should feel bad for asking for help. I had overextended myself, which makes me, understandably feel bad. Or at least it should.
I go back and forth between thinking, "I am a miserable excuse for an adult," and, "I'm a burden on my friends and family," to thinking, "Everyone needs help sometimes. It's going to be ok." with the constant thought in the back of my mind that screams, "Life shouldn't be this hard!"
The worst thought crossed my mind as I was trying to go to sleep last night: one day, Zac will feel like this and there is nothing I can do to stop that. One day, he will question every decision he has ever made and doubt his self-worth. No amount of parenting can change that. The little baby that loves nothing more than kisses from his mama and golf balls will turn into an adult.
I am not a bad person. I am not a bad person. I am not a bad person.
I have that sinking feeling in my stomach. You know the one. The one that makes you want to jump out of your skin and scream. Occasionally, this feeling paralyzes me to my office chair (it's interesting to note that this feeling usually coincides with work). I can't move for fear of making the feeling worse.
I am not a bad person. I am not a bad person.
I went in to talk to my boss about several comments that were made to me yesterday. Basically, I get reminded at least once or twice a week that I am not director or a supervisor and my worth to the organization is directly contingent upon that. When I started this job, they had reorganized the position so I now directly report to a director, instead of the executive. I am always going into talk to my boss about things. I'm too sensitive. I expect too much. God, I'm only 25, but I feel like I deserve so much more because I have a college degree and a brain. I'm ridiculous.
I am not a bad person. I am not a bad person. I will not get fired for asking not to be treated like an administrative assistant. Yes, there are a lot of grant writers who could do my job (not to mention trained monkeys). I am not a bad person. I am a valuable employee. They might fire me, but that doesn't make me a bad person.
I asked for financial help yesterday. Help was promised with the understanding that I should never ask for help again. It was also told to me that I should feel bad for asking for help. I had overextended myself, which makes me, understandably feel bad. Or at least it should.
I go back and forth between thinking, "I am a miserable excuse for an adult," and, "I'm a burden on my friends and family," to thinking, "Everyone needs help sometimes. It's going to be ok." with the constant thought in the back of my mind that screams, "Life shouldn't be this hard!"
The worst thought crossed my mind as I was trying to go to sleep last night: one day, Zac will feel like this and there is nothing I can do to stop that. One day, he will question every decision he has ever made and doubt his self-worth. No amount of parenting can change that. The little baby that loves nothing more than kisses from his mama and golf balls will turn into an adult.
I am not a bad person. I am not a bad person. I am not a bad person.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
5/17
Work has been so slow lately. Waiting patiently for nine hours to go by is something like me trying to wait patiently for a giant volcano to explode and wipe out Houston. I'm just not a very patient person. Motherhood has only made this (lack of) quality worse because now I do things on demand. Infants have even less patience than I do. When Z. wants to get changed, fed, held, or left alone, he lets me know about it, LOUDLY! I'm usually forced to respond, "Ok, OK! Here, I'll trade you a bottle for your right arm. Mommy wants to put the arm into the pajamas so we can go nite, nite. Mommy is very tired.... Damnit, Zachary, just give me your arm. You can play with my boobs after you get dressed."
When I have little to do at work, I'm like the overachiever in the 5th grade: the one that kept getting in trouble because she could. I want to grab my scissors and run around the office screaming, "I'm running with scissors and you can't stop me! I'm running with scissors!!" followed by a maniacal laugh that would make my bosses question why they hired me in the first place. Some people would try and find activities for themselves to do or reorganize the bathroom's supply closet, but not me. I'm too busy running with scissors and poking the kid next to me with a sharpened pencil - just because I can.
Too much time at work, followed by too little free time at home, is a dangerous combination. Before you know it, I'll be plotting the overthrow of the world during work and matching socks at home, all before going to bed at promptly 9pm.
When I have little to do at work, I'm like the overachiever in the 5th grade: the one that kept getting in trouble because she could. I want to grab my scissors and run around the office screaming, "I'm running with scissors and you can't stop me! I'm running with scissors!!" followed by a maniacal laugh that would make my bosses question why they hired me in the first place. Some people would try and find activities for themselves to do or reorganize the bathroom's supply closet, but not me. I'm too busy running with scissors and poking the kid next to me with a sharpened pencil - just because I can.
Too much time at work, followed by too little free time at home, is a dangerous combination. Before you know it, I'll be plotting the overthrow of the world during work and matching socks at home, all before going to bed at promptly 9pm.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
1/19
This is Zac getting WAY more action than I've seen in recent history with our friend Melissa at Jenna's pre-marathon carbohydrate party. Melissa watched Zac the first week after I went back to work, although now she is going to school and living in central Texas. So, if anyone is looking for a hot, socially-responsible, nutritionist, give me a holla' and I'll hook you up. (Yes, I am shameless). 
"You want me to run what? I can't even crawl yet!"I'm so tired that I'm ready to curl up next to Zac and try and get some sleep. He was out by 7:30pm tonight (Hallelujah! Praise Jesus!!) I had to get up extremely early on Sunday to make it to downtown Houston to cheer on the "Run for a Reason" running team. My Mom and I were both out at the "Hoopla Station" at Mile 7 to watch everyone go by, with Zac in tow. Zac ended up getting windburned/sunburned and a little annoyed at all the noise. It was worth it, though, as the waves of palpable energy emanated from the sea of runners. My Dad (Grandpatobe) walked the half marathon in three hours, thirty minutes. I was so motivated by the whole event that I even volunteered to lead the HFB Running Team next year in the (*gasp*) marathon.
This is clearly what happens when I don't get my period for over fifteen months! I start doing crazy things and since my period has basically explained every other crazy event in my life, I'm definately saying that I have been insane since October 2004. This is just its latest manifestation. OH, I also found out what the "last straw" was with that woman at work. Her phrase to me was: "Things have been escalating for quite some time now and this was just the last straw!" Escalating? Last straw? I stood there, completely confused out of my mind, and ended up sobbing on my way home from work, talking to Aunt Jen. In my mind, Jen was like, "Uh, huh, yeah, she sounds like a real bitch, yeah, uh, huh. No, you're not crazy. Did you know that I'm in the middle of a major life crisis trying to change jobs and move houses? Really, ok, I'm sorry that she was mean to you, but....." It went on like that for almost a half-an-hour. Jen is best person to call when I'm upset because she always has an action plan and if action doesn't work, then she at least can sympathize.
However, I had to go talk to HR about this woman that sits in my office (one office = 3 cubicles = no privacy). Apparently, I had eaten her chicken. Yup, she had some unmarked chicken in the communal refrigerator that I cut up and put in my salad. I thought that it was leftover from one of the lunches that an agency in town brings us (the paradox being, of course, that a food distribution organization routinely gets prepared food brought to them) . The HR guy said that I should keep my personal distance.
Point taken.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
1/11
The new EOM (with parking spot included!) is having a hard time at work. I've at not just one, but TWO personality conflicts in the span of three days. I have a really, really hard time dealing with personality problems, mainly, when people have problems with me. I usually just deny that have problems with people and try to act friendly.
I may not look like it from the outside, but I'm extremely sensitive and definately into pleasing others. My entire line of work is about making other people's lives better. That has to say something about me. Ever since puberty, however, I've dealt with the fact that I make people angry. Not just a little anger that blows over in a couple of days. I'm talking - ANGERRRRRR. There is something about me that grates on other people.
Please don't tell me the bullshit about this happening to everyone because it doesn't, especially in work place environments. I see plenty of people who work professionally and not have problems with people. Or maybe they have a problem every odd year or so. This happens regularly to me.
Is it my age? My black and white outlook or determination to solve a problem and finish a task regardless of how someone might feel? (Wow, that question makes be sound like a bitch, no?) Even when I try and focus on how other people might feel, make "I" statements and say things like, "I want to check in with you. Have I done something to anger you?" People still say, "YES!"
I try and be a good person, treat others with respect, smile and say "Good morning" and "Have a good night,"but I consistently FAIL!!!! I hate failing. I'm an overachiever, dammit.
What sucks about this post is that I can hear my therapist in the background. She used to say that I was so good at beating myself up that when I start to do it, I should listen for her voice, the rational, calm one that says things like: "It's ok to not be perfect. You are going to have people in life that dislike you. It doesn't make you a bad person," and find the power within myself to fight back to my own negativity.
GRRRRRRRR
OK, Employee of the Month has a new decree - EVERYONE AT WORK MUST LIKE ME. If you don't like me, fake it for my own sanity.
I may not look like it from the outside, but I'm extremely sensitive and definately into pleasing others. My entire line of work is about making other people's lives better. That has to say something about me. Ever since puberty, however, I've dealt with the fact that I make people angry. Not just a little anger that blows over in a couple of days. I'm talking - ANGERRRRRR. There is something about me that grates on other people.
Please don't tell me the bullshit about this happening to everyone because it doesn't, especially in work place environments. I see plenty of people who work professionally and not have problems with people. Or maybe they have a problem every odd year or so. This happens regularly to me.
Is it my age? My black and white outlook or determination to solve a problem and finish a task regardless of how someone might feel? (Wow, that question makes be sound like a bitch, no?) Even when I try and focus on how other people might feel, make "I" statements and say things like, "I want to check in with you. Have I done something to anger you?" People still say, "YES!"
I try and be a good person, treat others with respect, smile and say "Good morning" and "Have a good night,"but I consistently FAIL!!!! I hate failing. I'm an overachiever, dammit.
What sucks about this post is that I can hear my therapist in the background. She used to say that I was so good at beating myself up that when I start to do it, I should listen for her voice, the rational, calm one that says things like: "It's ok to not be perfect. You are going to have people in life that dislike you. It doesn't make you a bad person," and find the power within myself to fight back to my own negativity.
GRRRRRRRR
OK, Employee of the Month has a new decree - EVERYONE AT WORK MUST LIKE ME. If you don't like me, fake it for my own sanity.
Friday, January 06, 2006
1/06
Framji is shaming me with her poetry.
No words of importance or social significance, just a brief congratulations for myself.
I was named Employee of the Month today, which entitles me to the close parking spot and eight hours of vacation (which I can't use for another three months. I had to take two days of unpaid leave for my last vacation because I wasn't out of my six month probation period).
Yes, being named EOM doesn't make up for the extremely expensive health insurance that comes with a non-profit job, the small salary, long hours, or general abuse.....but it's nice and I'm leaving for the weekend feeling proud and thinking about where to go out for dinner.
No words of importance or social significance, just a brief congratulations for myself.
I was named Employee of the Month today, which entitles me to the close parking spot and eight hours of vacation (which I can't use for another three months. I had to take two days of unpaid leave for my last vacation because I wasn't out of my six month probation period).
Yes, being named EOM doesn't make up for the extremely expensive health insurance that comes with a non-profit job, the small salary, long hours, or general abuse.....but it's nice and I'm leaving for the weekend feeling proud and thinking about where to go out for dinner.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
12/08
Ahhhh.....I can see the end of the "Share Your Holidays"food drive in sight. For those of you that live in or around Houston, you might know what I'm talking about. SYH has been hosted by a local tv station for the past 25 years. All of the food and money raised during the food drive benefits my organization. Sounds simple, right? Wrong. The actual day of the event was yesterday, but we started collected food, money, and community partners for the event back in September. This is the longest, most complex food drive in the history of man.
Yesterday, 11 grocery stores, ALL Houston police stations, and ALL Houston fire stations were collecting food, in addition to 200 other organizations, corporations, and civic groups that have either already had, are currently having, or will have food drives to benefit the Food Bank. Guess who has to coordinate all of that? Yup. Me. There are boxes to be distributed, pickups that need to be scheduled, and donors that need to be thanked.
Ahhhhh.....I was at a local grocery store, just off downtown Houston, at 5:20am yesterday and I didn't see my house again until 7pm that night. The local tv station that hosts the food drive were at the grocery store with anchors and large cardboard checks o'plenty. Fortunately, it's Houston and the "freezing cold temperature" was only about 45 degrees, but it was windy, rainy, and all together nasty. Donations are extremely down from last year and everyone is attributing the lower "Share Your Holidays" donations to donor fatigue. People can only give so much: Tsunami, Hurricane Katrina, Hurricane Rita, and now.....Hanukah, Christmas, New Year's and of course, my much thought about trip to the Northeast. I can understand why folks would be hesitant to get into their cars, drive to a grocery store, buy food, and then donate it to a charity. While they are doing all of that, they're probably thinking about how much gas costs and how they are going to pay for their own holiday dinners.
I don't want to sound like a Scrooge here. Everything in my field revolves around donors and people giving. Unfortunately, though, people need to eat 12 months out of the year. They don't just eat during the holidays, or during hurricane relief efforts. The poor will continue to be poor and the hungry will continue to wish that they had enough money for food, regardless of how fatigued donors are.
Just some food for thought from a very tired woman...
Yesterday, 11 grocery stores, ALL Houston police stations, and ALL Houston fire stations were collecting food, in addition to 200 other organizations, corporations, and civic groups that have either already had, are currently having, or will have food drives to benefit the Food Bank. Guess who has to coordinate all of that? Yup. Me. There are boxes to be distributed, pickups that need to be scheduled, and donors that need to be thanked.
Ahhhhh.....I was at a local grocery store, just off downtown Houston, at 5:20am yesterday and I didn't see my house again until 7pm that night. The local tv station that hosts the food drive were at the grocery store with anchors and large cardboard checks o'plenty. Fortunately, it's Houston and the "freezing cold temperature" was only about 45 degrees, but it was windy, rainy, and all together nasty. Donations are extremely down from last year and everyone is attributing the lower "Share Your Holidays" donations to donor fatigue. People can only give so much: Tsunami, Hurricane Katrina, Hurricane Rita, and now.....Hanukah, Christmas, New Year's and of course, my much thought about trip to the Northeast. I can understand why folks would be hesitant to get into their cars, drive to a grocery store, buy food, and then donate it to a charity. While they are doing all of that, they're probably thinking about how much gas costs and how they are going to pay for their own holiday dinners.
I don't want to sound like a Scrooge here. Everything in my field revolves around donors and people giving. Unfortunately, though, people need to eat 12 months out of the year. They don't just eat during the holidays, or during hurricane relief efforts. The poor will continue to be poor and the hungry will continue to wish that they had enough money for food, regardless of how fatigued donors are.
Just some food for thought from a very tired woman...
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