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Friday, Nov. 22, 2002 / 11:39 a.m. ~Second Verse, Different From the First~ I was seriously stewing, and unlike actual stew, the ingredients, the thoughts, the ideas, were becoming more sharp, vivid, pronounced, the very opposite of mellow. Perhaps I was marinating. Not stewing. Adding sharpness, adding acidity, flavor, taking time to form in my head exactly what I wanted to say. I decided I�d write to her. To D., the Supervisor, I�d tell her exactly what I thought of our little meeting from the other day, how had she not been behind that desk I think it all would have gone differently. How had I not lost my composure, had I not spent more time concerned about the tears falling from my eyes and wiping them as soon as they formed, that it would have been different. I�m prepared now. I�m stronger, I�m more confident, I know what I want to say. I went to her first thing and told her. I�ll be writing it down for you, I have more to say, it�s not over, there was no resolution, I�m clearer now, I want to tell you how I feel, there are points I must make. She got really upset, started quivering a little, asked me if what I�d write would upset her when she read it, told me she was going to cry (although it really didn�t look like it, even after she removed her groovy cats� eyes glasses). It was hard for me to lie. What I said was, I don�t know. She wanted to hear it, she wanted a briefing, and we talked again. Me on one side of her cubicle wall, she on the other. No desk for her to hide behind, more equal this time. And she reminded me of time we had spent together months, years ago. My influence on her, my way of motivating her, her respect for me. Her respect for me. She told me several times. She didn�t want to be accused of making me her favorite, but she had the utmost respect for me, I�ve inspired, I�ve motivated her. Perhaps it was an ingenious ploy to deflect my impending pronouncement of her ineffectual role as my Supervisor, perhaps it was genuine. Frankly I was distrustful, but it was nice to hear it, finally. We discussed job opportunities, I told her I�ll be leaving soon, no notice given. I caught myself and told her I never should have let her know that particular juicy tidbit, but she scoffed, she wants to be my friend, she always liked me, before she became Supervisor, then it was too hard. She�s hated it here as well, she was prepared to leave a year ago, then her husband�s transfer fell through. She asked if I�ll be going to the dinner in her honor tonight, but I made a face, told her how I can�t possibly talk to my co-workers now, knowing what they did the other day, how they held a meeting about me while I was at lunch, how my �challenging� nature is seen as a very bad thing. I said being challenged to be better, to know more, to find answers, to improve, is one of the very best things anyone can offer you. Complacency is the worst. D. says she�s not Corporate, she knows that, she�s going back to school, in Japan, she�ll become a kindergarten teacher. I�m happy for her. I wish I could see her happy, be her friend, not her employee. I walked away after more than half an hour of standing there talking, with her email address on a bright pink post-it note. I feel much better. She also told me how the Manager (M), who just so happens to be the sister of Kukla, the first cousin of Penelope (the two highest paid reps in our dept, natch) wanted her to �write me up�. The Manager doesn�t much care for my �let�s just DO it!� style. I kept picturing Michael Moore, thinking how unafraid he�s been to approach people, to affect change, to make things HAPPEN, regardless of pomp and circumstance, and especially Corporate Red Tape. I wish I could be like him. I wish I could talk to people in positions of authority and power, and not cave, not break down emotionally, not be a big baby about making my stand, any stand. Taking it, making it, affecting change and improvement. Here, at this work site, at this Outsourcing Company, it�s a lost cause. I see that. I finally accept it, that things will not change. Maybe it�s like that Serenity Prayer, accepting the things I cannot change. I am still a fighter where that is concerned, but I�m learning. It�s time to go. It won�t be easy. I don�t know where I�m going yet. But I�ll never forget Brent telling me to go to Norrell, telling me they�d hire me, no question, all I had to do was show up. He was right. There is no need to underestimate myself constantly. I am worthy of better than this. Here�s an interesting observation, there�s an awful lot of humming going on around here, more than ever before. Penelope is not only doing her usual gum smacking/popping, but she�s begun this humming thing. And Kukla just walked by with her own little hum. Either there�s something going on, or, well, something�s going on. I haven�t ruled out the possibility I may get fired before I get the chance to walk out. That will suck, I know, so I�m trying to lie really low here. (yeah, it�s not �lay� low, it�s �lie� � I�m a freak when it comes to proper conjugation for lie and lay) The intention is not to talk to anyone at all, unless absolutely necessary. If it�s not specifically work related, and required, forget it. Funny thing is though, Kennel Boy and the new girl weren�t here the day the shit went down, so unless the gossip mill fed them, they�re clueless. Cost of the War in Iraq
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