I am particularly piqued and intolerant of all things corporate today. From the weird jargon such as “free up their future” refering to firing some poor soul, to the copious amounts of redundant paperwork. Did you CQI that? I most certainly did not. I barely had time to get the leg work done. I’d make you a piechart to prove it, but I keep hearing the word “pie” and eating the paper.
My main greivance this rainy morning is the mantra of the interim executive director: “Be from Missouri!” she chants. It is her perky little way of telling us not to take things at face value. To look for the grain of truth in every complaint. To question and probe. About everything! “I’m from Missouri, you know,” she ends her last interogation. No, you are not from Missouri, you are from North Carolina and North Carolinians are known for……something else. I think. Geographically challenged in the idiomatic. Interesting.
Maybe while I’m being from Missouri, I’ll be a purple cow as well. This little gem comes from the smarmy marketing consultant who fancies himself “a healer and a teacher.” I didn’t know that those were prerequisites for marketing, but steady on. I gather that being a purple cow refers to standing out amongst the competition. Obviously, being noticed is a good thing in marketing, and he believes it, as evidenced by the striking polka-dot bowtie perenially garnishing his attire. My dear fellow, you are indeed drawing attention, but I do not think it is the kind you wanted. P.S. Learn the definition of personal space! I want my own air!
This mood started with the sinus infection that stole my rose-leaf complexion and the Thursday from…..Hailfax. Wherein I, regretfully, nearly caused a divorce. When a 90 year old woman wanted to take her unwilling husband home to care for him herself, the doctor refused to write discharge orders. At this point I had to point out my ethical obligation to alert Adult Protective Services if she did take him home against medical advise. She stormed out stating to her poor husband; “If you like it here so much, then you can stay! I’m never speaking to you again.” Now she’s not speaking to me either. I never thought I’d be the other woman. And if I had, certainly I didn’t picture it quite like this.
Now there was, on the same Thursday, the guy who called me arrogant. That would be me….. He believes that he doesn’t owe us as much money as is showing up on the bill and that I haven’t done a thing to help him. Makes me feel like a little stone god. Eyes have I, but I see not. Ears, but there is no hearing. I told him over and over to bring in the bill so I could look at it, but he never did. To be fair, I did blog mercilessly about his twitching self a few weeks back.
To conclude, I find myself musing over today’s final tidbit from our morning meeting. “Do people stand a little taller in your presence?” *laughs hysterically* Not if I don’t snap out of this jaded and cynical mood. They will be hiding under desks and pretending to be statues when I walk by. Kidding, kidding. I’m a professional; I can smile pleasantly while the phrases “In her tongue is the law of kindness” and “I do social work, not miracle work!” war in my head. But now that I have typed the frustration out of my mind, I think I can go make someone stand a little taller. I have a stack of Thank-U-Grams in my desks that are redeemable for treats. People like to be appreciated. And there is MUCH to be appreciated in the people who do the real work here. I'm going to go find some!
Well, that was cathartic and I thank you all for listening. Now, I just need to sort out exactly why I am applying for the admissions and marketing position that just became available.
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