I logged on to see that it was January since my last post. Wow, months ago. I've been stuck in the bog.
It used to be that when I was bogged down, I just left. I left and went somewhere no one could find me. I would return with gifts and stories, but I when I was gone, I was really gone. Now having a family, a big machine job, I have responsibilities, duties, to make people aware that I am leaving and leave numbers for emergencies. Those things that bind us. They do take a toll on the art of disappearing. One has to admire the likes of Mr. Cooper. I'm not saying so much about the theft part....but he did manage to grab some money and completely disappear. We are still spending money on this unsolved case. You do have to say that's fucking brilliant.
I did just leave. I went to visit a friend in a State that was far away. I only had a weekend, but, whatever....something was better than nothing. I hung out with wonderful strange people, ate delicious food, drank....bought silly things. I breathed in air that was not my same air. I felt as though this precious foreign air would heal my soul, reforge my heart's forces, all of those things. And the secrets that I brought back with me of my experiences would just be mine, to share or not to share. That's what leaving does for me. Being in a place that doesn't know you allows you to choose your experiences; rather than, having situations presented or laid upon you that you have to have a reaction or some action taken. Jesus, I was in desperate need of leaving. I'm sure that you would love for me to tell you about Amanda, Dancing Bruce, or the surly grandson of a famous actress you owns a small shop who treated me like crap until I stood there and sold a ton of stuff for him just to get what I wanted out of another shopper's hands. Yes, everyone wants to hear those stories. But, not yet. I'm still sitting with them, in secret.
I came back.
I came back to what I've decided is just crap. Crap that I must make a plan to completely leave for good.
I think that I want to own a cafe or maybe an earthworm farm or maybe both. Earthworms do not talk, and boy would that be nice. A cafe would allow me to visit with people a short bit, but if I owned the cafe, I could just kick them out if I liked. I wouldn't have to serve or deal with anyone that I didn't care for. How nice would that be?!?
I have noticed that there are just about three kinds of people, just three. The first group does whatever they fucking feel like, to whoever they feel like, whenever they feel like. The second group does very little that they like; and more often than not, they try to impose their rules on the first group, or they try to impose so much of their rules on themselves that they crack and have secret first group lives. The third group cannot help, seriously cannot help doing things that the first and second group do, and the first two groups rarely make space for this group to live at all, this third group is the most tragic of all the groups.
Now, there is a smaller fourth group. This group can't even be called a group, there is no organization about it, these people do not form. They are by far the best that humanity has to offer, but are because they cannot form, they cannot rule they other three groups. The other three may be the distruction of humanity in it's complete existance, but because of this four gray area, those people will have taken full advantage of all that has been offered, created a wonderful, fantastic ride, before it's all said and done.
I broke out into hives this week. Not just once, three times. I itched, I was red, and then the tiny, raised red circles began to show all over. I tried to find the root cause of them, as I scratched and medicated myself. Nothing was different. I've only have hives two other times in my life, both were external causes. Causes that could easily be pointed to, and fixed. But, not this week. I finally realized that I was having hives from stress. Stress hives. I couldn't even believe that there was such a thing. There is. I was allergic to my life. Holy fucking shit. I had to pinpoint the stresser to get rid of the itchy situation. Ok, well, which fucking thing was making me itch? I have so many things, everyone has so many things, how can a person pick out the trigger point. I thought, What?!? Are you fucking kidding me?!?
I took some time to consider all of my angles. Was it the first group in me? Was it the second group in me? Was it the third group in me? Or was it the lack of the fourth group in me?
By Thursday, I was to the stress level that I just couldn't think about it. It has been work, work, work, what did you say? I can't think right now, I'm working. I have hives, and I can't think about it, I'm working. And then when I'm done working there's some more work and stuff to do. I know that I'm scratching my tits and ass, but not to worry the work will be done.
I've been secretly laying plans, longterm plans for the worms and the cafe. So, if I can just hang on, I can itch, what the fuck do I care, if in the end, I get worms and a cafe.
Thursday. Itchy and working. The young girl at work, very pretty. Everyone knows that she's the favorite. She's the favorite to the client of redneck men, and really many of the people in the office. She's can be very smart, and she is very pretty. The only problem, is she does know that she is protected and she gets and takes the free stuff. She's currently only a group one. At times, because this is her first real job, she lacks the experience with people. She doesn't know that as long as she stays right were she's at, everything will be good for her, but she's very locked in. Once she ventures out, the responses may not always be as welcoming. That's just the way it is.
We had a situation. One that me and my hives could have done without. Pretty Girl had a lot of work. But, truth be told we all did. Once she came back from lunch, she began to pawn some off on me. She didn't ask me, she just told me. She told me in a very not nice tone. I recognized that she really did feel like that was alright for her to do. It wasn't that big of a deal. Fuck it. I'd just do the work. And we could just set the boundry later, I was too busy. Just my luck that wasn't how it was to go.
I tried to point out that I would need more information from her to complete what she had so kindly given me. Very snidely, she asked if I need her to just do the work for me. This was loud, and mean, and rang over the cubicle bay. The white glove had been slapped. The pitch fork grabbed. I knew the towel was raised to see who would throw it in first. I sighed. Well, shit.
Oh, the surly girl. The demeaning tone. I wasn't that irritated with her, I just saw if for what it was. This was not my first rodeo. I knew that I would have to bite back. I would have to establish my cubicle bounderies. Seriously, I would have to basically pee on something to define my six square foot territory. I would have to beat my hivey chest to make the understanding known which highlighter was mine. That I had my computer chair set exactly where I liked it. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I wasn't annoyed, just tired. And I wanted to tell there that what she said was stupid. That I knew what was going to occurr from here, I knew how this was going to play out, and it was stupid, we had work to do.
But, one has to define themselves in the office. We really do a bunch of really stupid stuff. So, Okay, let's just take care of it already.
I explained to her that No, I did not need her to help me do her work. I said this as equally as loud, and with a more disturbing, but still professional, polite and courteous tone. I pee'd.
The whole area was very quite. One could have heard a paperclip drop.
I began to go back to work, now I had my work, and part of her work, I had no time to think any further on the matter. So, I found another avenue to gather the information that I needed to get from her, completed her stuff very quickly, and dispensed of the matter. And as I was printing her part to take to her, she came around the corner with the sticky note of information I had asked for. One sticky note. In the time it took her to write it down; I had finished. I knew this would also make a point.
And now, I would have to complete the lesson that I had begun to teach her. Shit.
She almost started to talk. I looked at her and explained the "in the time she took to gather the stickie note, I had completed her part of the work". So, thanks, but I found it, and if she wanted to stand at the printer, she could just take her work back to her cublicle with her. She looked stunned, and started to say something. I held up my hand, and told her to stop, I didn't need it, and was going back to my own work now. I turned around and walked off. Again, I wasn't angry, just proficient about it.
The cubicle bay was in recovery. It was quiet. It wasn't as though we had a full on brawl, just tow people not seeing eye to eye. I was just as happy to have the silence. I cleared off most of my work....very nice. I didn't think that it was that big of a deal. I know that I would eventually get annoyed though because it was going to continue to be a big deal for a bit. And that would lead to something that I would have to pay attention to, and maybe take away time from the work I had to actually work at.
Me and my hives got to work on Friday in a slightly drug induced hazed. Coffee only sliced a bit of the cloudy fog.
I was waiting. I had a sneeking suspicion that there would be fall out from the incident. Why? Because the girl is still wrapped up in her own, because she would just think that it was about her, this tiny thing, "the incident" wouldn't just pass, there would be further, annoying discussion. And we had stuff to do, that I equally cared less about, but at least that shit paid me. So, of the two, one could deduce where I wanted to spend my thought power.
We had a staff meeting.
We covered business stuff. Then the girl said to everyone that she had another issue that she would like to bring up. It was now an issue worthy of a discussion at a staff meeting. Girl said that she had gotten a bit snippy with me yesterday and she wanted to say that she was sorry. It was not about saying that she was sorry to me, if she really had gotten it, she would have come to me in private. I might have taken notice of that, sure, why not.
However, She was defending her good name by publicly saying something. She was announcing that it was about her. By saying this outloud, she would be able to show everyone how sensitive she was and how much she really cared. Please note that there was no mention of the extra work of her's that I did in record time, and how helpful that was, no mention. Oh Jesus. Please can I just have a break already.
I was also aware that these people thought that I had a direct line to the President of the Company. Pretty Girl thought that. So, upset me, and well, you might hear about it from the President Herself. Yes, indeed, you might just.
People thought that I had direct lines to a great many important people. And it's true, I do have that direct line. I have this direct line because these important people know that I would never use the red button line for something like this. NEVER PUSH THE RED BUTTON!!!! However, I noted that that's cool if people think that. How awesome it that?!? People would probably be apt to do less fucking stupid stuff in the long run. So, that was pretty cool. But, I would never bother anyone about this. I wasn't talking about it now, so no red button pushing later....
Aware that I was going to have to put on my public face quickly. I was going to have to have a response. I did. I'm not positive that I had it on quick enough, but, whatever. When I have hives you just get what I can give.
The boss said how nice that was of her to come forward and say outloud. Everyone was waiting, looking at me. Oh brother.....
I said, yes, that was very nice, thank you. And people were still staring at me. I just continued to sit there. Yes, I knew what was expected, what was supposed to happen next, and I wasn't trying to be an ass, I wasn't holding any great grudge; however, I knew we were still in Lessonville, and I knew better than to feed into the situation, or next time she would still be an office bully.
The boundry had to be set in final. I was not showing any signs of anger, there wasn't any, I was just setting the boundry. I think that in the stand off, I could actually feel the addition of several more hives. There itchy development, red, strong. The thought of stopping just for a few seconds to scratch. Oh the scratchingly relief. Shit.
The boss asked if I had been sassy back. What are we?, fucking little kids. I said matterafactly, that yep, I did. (Would anyone have expected less of me? Really, come-on. Everyone should be sassy back. And if they choose not to, well they will regret it later. Why do that to yourself? We're not at some big battle royal....we're in an office.)
Since there was no I'm sorry following that. I was asked why? Really, why? I was asked that.
Ok, ok, ok.
I said that when we all come to work, it's not just act however you want time, when we all come to work there are actual rules. I wished that I could just come to work and act and do as I please, but that wouldn't take into account everyone else's space. So, therefore, when people come to work and wear their Ugly Buttons, they shouldn't be surprised when someone else dawns theirs.
There was a situation here, right now, that I knew that we could only move through by hearing me say that I was sorry, too. Well, ok, than I'm sorry, too. Even though I was being funny, I shared with the girl my deadpan eyes. People laughed because I said the word Ugly Buttons, and we did move on, and the point was made to the girl where the line was. She backed down a bit; her body language told me so. I'm not sure that she had encounter someone like me. She couldn't use anything on me. I just didn't care to go down this path with her, and I wasn't threaten by anything she did. Even if she made it hard for me to work with her with others by pulling the pretty girl gossipy helplessness, I still wouldn't care. What to do, what to do. I was a good lesson for her. Really. I was just annoyed and itchy that we had to talk about this. I didn't want to be a lesson from someone. Can't you just lesson with someone else? I was annoyed that I had to make believe that it was something I was upset about and needed some sort of fixing. I couldn't pretend about it. It was just stupid.
I went to lunch. I had hives. I longed for another trip to somewhere no one knew me. I longed for the plan for worms and cafe customers. But, what I had where my vacation memories and hives. I lit a cigarette. I won't quite smoking. I know that every drag brings be closer to death, but every drag offers some break from the loudness of living. Who would want to give that up just because group two told you that you have to.
Sometimes, I feel like Piggy and have to run before people take my glasses and try to start small fires to warm their breakroom coffee. And we all know what happed to Piggy.
D.B. if only you could hear my prayers to be a good as you. It was only the parachute they found, dirty, old and nowhere near where you are right now.
