Crazy Makers

We all have them. Those special people in our lives that absolutely make us go insane. I don’t care if you have a normal brain or not – they can turn an otherwise beautiful day into one with overcast skies and threatening clouds. I try and keep as many of them out of my life as possible, but that doesn’t always works, especially in an office environment.

My current supervisor is one of these people. I have spoken of her before. She is not well-liked among many of the people who work here, especially those she has power over. Many find her awkward, confusing, incapable of having an informed conversation with and there is always the slight put-down in everything she says – even the rare complement. Meetings with her go well over the hour they are scheduled for, and my brain shuts down after 45-minutes. I just can’t do it.

Thus, when we had a meeting this morning to learn about new software we would be using, I foolishly assumed it would move along at a rapid pace: we are intelligent women, we understand technology (we work with it every day), the software is almost as easy to use as a WordPress site. We met in my office, where I have a perfect view of the clock, and watched in horror as the minutes turned into an hour, and then the hour passed and the meeting still continued. I knew my ideal vision of the meeting and my lunch break (the only one I will get this week) were shot.

But I refused to give up my lunch. It is the only time I can get to the store without everyone and their brother being there after work, and I have no food in the house, save for the cat food I am now feeding the feral cat that adopted my partner the last time he was here. And I wasn’t desperate enough last night to eat that. So I flew to the store, wove around the older folks (it is Wednesday, when many of them shop – the vans bring them in), and grabbed as many items as I could. I only have a half hour to do this in, as well as get the groceries to my house, so I can just leave and relax when the workday is done.

Before I left I asked her what the parameters for lunches are (because after a year I am still confused), even though I rarely leave for it, and I won’t be for the next 3 weeks because everyone is away. I never should have. Not only did it lead into another 15 minute monologue from her about what we are allowed, but also a pity party about the average hours she works daily. Which is nine. One more than me. Big fucking deal. But play the martyr if you must.

She got a shot in at me about how the work she does (so much more important than mine, or so was the tone) is very different than what I do, and the numerous responsibilities she has. But she applied for the fucking job. She knew what she was getting into. She gets paid more than I do, even though we have the same level of experience, and has a better position, so it’s her issue if she stays longer on workdays. I just take work home, if I have to. But I rarely do that anymore. So much of the passion I once had for this profession has been erased by pressures of climbing the ladder and/or people like her.

Which is why I want to leave it so badly. It is sad – I used to love what I did. But too much has changed, the people have changed, and the atmosphere feels more akin to lions stalking prey than simply getting along, enjoying working with one another, and making the magic happen. I am exhausted from what we have been told we have to do for the first 18 years of our lives: go to college (or not); get a job; have children; retire; die. I want so much more out of life and I know it is possible. I know there is more out there for me than this office, this state, this country. There is an entire world to explore, which I have been fortunate to have already seen a lot of, but I want more. I want freedom. I don’t want someone telling me what to do or how everything I do is wrong, at least in their eyes.

And then this article appeared in one of my feeds, as if the universe was talking to me. It’s from author Benjamin Hardy. The title didn’t grab me, but the subtitle did: Whatever Your Mind Can Conceive and Believe, You Can Achieve. I started scanning it. I will admit, I have not read it word for word, but what I did read spoke to me (other than the praying to have more faith part, but I’m using the visualization and meditation instead). It’s all a mindset. It was exactly what I needed to see. Because I am actively working on all these things. I am attempting to visualize myself as a writer and not an office stooge. I am meditating that this will happen and only positive things will come into my life. And I am writing, as often as I can, because ultimately this is what I want to do.

As my therapist said, it was my choice to come here. There are always lessons to be learned from our choices and I have chronicles of my own good and bad decisions. How this one will work out, I do not know, but I’m throwing it out to the universe. What comes back to me will be interesting to see. But I have faith, not in a higher power (I think we already got that), but in the possibilities.

Thus, even though she screwed with my schedule on the one day I thought I would have some breathing room at work, I didn’t let it get to me. I moved on. And I have to keep that mindset – to keep moving even when the boat feels rocky. Because the future could hold some amazing things for me. For you. For all of us.

Conceive, believe and achieve. A new mantra. And I think my lesson of the day was to hit the mute button on any crazy makers in my life. At least her. One at a time. One moment at a time.

© Sorrow & Kindness


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