08.15.02
If, half the time you open your mouth at work, and someone bites your head off, talks down to you, or gives you a dirty look and either stomps around and/or gives you the silent treatment the entire rest of the day, you might be inclined to stop talking to that person.
Which is pretty much the position I've taken the last few weeks with Carol.
Today is a good example:
I was opening up the cash register, when the thing began to beep loudly because there was a paper jam in the receipt printer.
Carol asked me what I was doing over there, and I told her that the register tape was jammed up.
"Well, I didn't do it. I didn't close the register last night."
I don't think anyone did it, it's just something that happens sometimes.
"Well, it wasn't my fault, so don't blame me. I didn't do it."
I wasn't blaming you. I was just saying that the tape was jacked up because it does it on its own sometimes.
"Well, I didn't do it, so don't look at me."
Nobody did it. It just did it on its own -- it's done it before.
"It wasn't me."
I know.
And I thought the matter was dropped there, when I shrugged, turned back to the register and continued the opening procedures. Then I went back to wax the eyebrows of one of Carol's daughter's friends, and she agreed with me that Carol seemed a little bit too defensive on that one, and that I hadn't done anything to provoke it.
Not two minutes later, Carol walked into the area where we were, and 'told' me the following,
"I don't know if there's something going on at home, or if you're not getting enough sleep or what, but whatever it is, you need to fix it and stop bringing it to work."
Hey, all I said was that the printer was jammed, when you asked me what was going on. You were the one that was all like, 'I didn't do it! It wasn't me! Don't blame me!'
"Whatever."
And then she stalked off, leaving the girl and I shaking out heads in wonderment.
After several weeks of this sort of shit, I was actually kind of upset at this outburst. Hello? Pot? Meet Kettle!
I'm not the one that has a hugely dysfunctional family and is at war with half of the store, including several members of management. I'm not the one that's afraid to go to the office to read email when Amber is there, because I get intimidated by someone who is on the fast track to corporate nowhere.
My life in the country is pretty much exactly the same as it was in the city, except more rural, my allergies are worse, there's a better selection of food, an in-house washer and dryer, and there's a dog. Oh, and I'm losing a whole half hour of sleep to commuting, big whoop!
I like what I do for a living, and I like making money, but it is hard to want to come to work because I feel like a damn punching bag all of the time. Work makes me depressed because I don't know what verbal faux pas I am going to make that day, and what form of deranged reprisal I will face in return.
After the crap about my farm life, I decided to just stay out of Carol's way, and keep my mouth shut. About an hour later she cornered me folding laundry.
"Are you on different medication? Have you been taking your medication like you're supposed to be taking it, because you've been totally weird the last week or so."
Yes, I am still taking Wellbutrin at the prescribed dose. Define weird.
"Weird. You stomp in here, and then you're all depressed and bitchy. It's weird. Is something going on that I should know about?"
Yes, there is. I'm tired of you lashing out at me all of the time. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells constantly.
"What are you talking about? All you do is criticize and correct me."
What?
"I'm not a child, don't talk down to me like I am one."
Well, I'm not a child either, and I don't appreciate you coming back here and cornering me with strange accusations. And, I think your client is here.
The rest of the day, all of my regular clients, and even some of Carol's, kept asking me why I was so quiet -- being reserved and quiet at work is abnormal, since I'm usually perky and animated. I told them all that I guessed that I just didn't have anything to say today.
Carol didn't have anything to say about it either, until later.
As I was closing, I decided to check the books for tomorrow, and see how busy I was going to be. I noticed that I was marked out to not come in until an hour and a half after I normally do, and that I was marked out to leave two hours early on Saturday.
Carol saw me looking at the books and told me,
"Look, I don't know what's wrong with you. Maybe coming in to work later and leaving a little bit earlier will give you some time to, I don't know, get more sleep or something. Be happier."
Great, instead of leaving me alone and not freaking out on me, she decided that banishing me from my source of income was a better idea. I suppose that out of sight, out of mind is an easier way to deal with problems for some people. Intellectually, I am sure that she thought she was trying to be helpful, but it didn't come across as concern so much as an accusation.
"I mean, you can come into work at noon if you want to, but I just thought you needed some time off. You're so depressed all the time. I know you don't want to be here. Maybe you should take a day off next week? Kristen?"
Do you have any idea what it feels like to not have a problem other than having someone else projecting their problems onto you, and then having that same someone dictate to you how you feel, what you're thinking, and what you should do? I realize that she is my manager, but she needs to manage her own affairs before she starts meddling in mine.
I fully admit that I have depression. And dealing with the shit at work does make me feel like shit. I probably am a little depressed at work, because anyone would be in my situation. I get picked on, try to defend myself, and then get berated and belittled, all in the name of caring about me.
I try to start each day as a blank slate, allowing the events over the course of the day, and my reactions to these events, to define how I feel at that time. My mood is usually quite bright until I walk into the salon. At that point, I am usually neither in a good mood or bad mood -- I am just present. Good things will make me happier, and bad things will make me sadder, but on the average day, I am just fine.
No high, no low.
If I say I am fine, I mean it. If I say that something doesn't bother me, or that something is okay, I mean it. There is no reason for me to pretend otherwise, and Carol doesn't seem to understand that.
What she sees is that I come into work with a smile on my face, and shortly thereafter quit smiling. That I am quieter than normal, and shrug more things off than I should. I am more tempermental, and more argumentative that usual. Obviously there is something wrong with me, and that it is something that I am bringing into work with me. Obviously I am either extra depressive, or I'm off my meds, or am taking different ones that aren't working. What is wrong with me is something that is wrong with me.
She can't see that I come in smiling, and that within five minutes of being there, she usually barks something at me, so I quit smiling. She can't see that I resign myself to the fact that it's going to be another shitty day, and keep to myself, to avoid as much crap being flung my way as possible. I don't know what to say, or if something that I do say is going to set her off, so I just avoid the confrontation entirely by piping down. And if I am cornered and accused of something that isn't true, I will defend myself until it becomes clear that whatever is the point of contention is never going to be altered in her mind, and that it is easier to just acquiesce, or manipulate her into dismissing me angrily.
Standing there tonight, just trying to do my job, I couldn't take it any more. I can't close the register and finish the paperwork while someone is telling me that my head isn't screwed on straight, when it is obviously her head that needs tightening.
She's right, I don't want to be at work, not because I don't like it, or don't want to be there. I don't want to be at work because she makes it almost impossible to be there while she is there. If she would leave me the hell alone, I could be myself without fear of backlash and reprisal.
And almost no one else sees it, because she is Little Miss Sunshine to everyone but me and the other people who are already behind the scenes. That girl today got to witness the freak out, because she was already in the inner circle. She understood completely.
Most of the people that are engaged in a stupid blood feud with Carol also see behind the act. They see the pettiness, and give it right back. Wherever she perceives hostility, she is consequently even more hostile in return. Any action that isn't to her liking is seen as a slight and an insult, and she's got a crazy memory like an elephant for all the imaginary insults made her way.
I just don't have that kind of energy to burn on something so trivial.
I couldn't focus on counting change, because my vision started to blur with tears.
I'm not depressed. And I want to work. I just feel like I can't open my mouth or you will get all pissed at something I say, and then hate me all day for it. I feel like every little thing I do is judged by you with such intense scrutiny, that I can't do anything for fear of doing it wrong.
I say something, and it pisses you off, so you give me the cold shoulder all day. And then I just avoid you because I don't want to make you any madder. But you take that as me giving you the cold shoulder, and you get all pissy and make some nasty comment.
"That isn't what happens. I don't think you're mad at me."
I know that, but I feel like that is what's going on. I say something you don't like, you get mad, you say something I don't like, I get mad. And we spend so much time thinking that we're mad at each other that it almost becomes hate.
"I don't hate you. That isn't it at all."
I know, I don't hate you either, but you make me feel like I should, and that's stupid.
"That is stupid. I don't hate you."
It just seems like every thing I say is taken as an insult or criticism. You used to tease me back if I teased you, and vice versa.
Like when you told Maryann yesterday that you woke up at 4am because your hands were burning, probably from the paint you were using in your bathroom, since you are allergic to latex.
"I know. I remember."
And I said to her, 'But strangely, two hours later she was back in the bathroom, painting up a storm.'
"Yeah, I had to finish it. I couldn't just stop painting, and I was wearing gloves that time. I had to finish up the bathroom walls."
And you said that. You got all defensive, instead of ribbing me back, saying something like, 'Hey, at least I was doing something useful at 6am this morning, lazy bones.'
I would have countered with something like, 'Yep, I didn't get up until 7:30! It's absolutely amazing that I made it here at all, sleeping in so late like that!' and we all would have had a laugh. Or you would have at least snorted and rolled your eyes, but in a good way.
"Maybe I just feel so much stress from my job, and having to deal with all of the crap out there, that every time you say something that could be taken the wrong way I do take it the wrong way. I can't seem to do anything right around here, and it feels like you point that out all of the time. I meant that I didn't close the register wrong last night, because I didn't close the register at all. For once, I didn't do something wrong for you to pick on."
I wasn't picking on you, I was just telling you that the tape was goofy.
"I'm sorry."
Then she looked at her watch and shook her head.
"Give me a hug, so I can go home."
And I did, not because I wanted to, but because I wanted her to go away and leave me alone.
Which is all I ever wanted in the first place. I just wanted to close the register in peace, and then drive home, eat some dinner, and watch some television before going to bed.
I didn't want to hash out exactly what I felt was wrong with the dynamic of our relationship. I didn't want to stand there sobbing and trying to tell her that I was okay, that I just wanted to be left alone, and that her ham-handed explanations weren't making the situation any better.
That I wasn't crying because I was sad or depressed, but because I was worn out and tired, both physically and mentally, and I just wanted her to go -- not because I hated her, but because I couldn't close the register while I was crying. At that point I was probably just crying because I felt stupid and embarassed about crying in the first place.
Ideally, I try to leave my work at work, and my home at home. Sometimes the two intersect in story or incident, but I don't like to carry the baggage from one place to the other. It makes my head hurt, and my stomach tie in knots. I don't want to brood over things outside of their appropriate places to be brooded over, or something slightly more eloquent and less nonsensical than that.
I just want to live in peace, work long enough to save some money to get the hell out of here, and not have to deal with this crap anymore.
I don't want to resent the actions or perceptions of others. I don't want to play the "she thinks that I think that she thinks so-and-so, and that's why she did that" game. I can't spend all of my time dissecting conversations and strategizing ways to avoid confrontation. I don't want to have deeper meanings and ulterior motives.
I don't and I can't.
Not anymore.
And in the long run, this probably won't have changed a damn thing.
She'll be super nice to me for a couple of days, and then it will all start again, like it always does.
I don't know.
What's in your head?
