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Tuesday, Apr. 26, 2005 / 7:38 p.m. ~So Very NOT a Good Day~ He came back around the corner and asked me why I'm so nervous around him, why I seem so very uncomfortable every time I talk to him, and I looked at him with jaw dropped wide open, and mind reeling, what to say, what to say, what to say?, thinking of answers, and nothing came to me until later... You are still my manager, you hold my job in your hands, you threatened to terminate us instantly today, you could terminate me at your will. If I piss you off I am gone, no severance. It could not be more simple. It doesn't matter what I feel, what connection we have, anything I've felt, or thought, any future relationship, friendship, otherwise I've wanted with you, right now, until the end, three more days, you hold my livelihood in your hands. If I give you cause to terminate me permaturely, my severance disintegrates, so there is distance, and why you don't see that is far beyond me and my scope, my psychological realm. Today was bizarre, I think, and supremely uncomfortable, and I don't know how much to document publicly, or even privately. Suffice to say I not only lost my composure, and quite exuberantly and unconcernedly, I exposed myself in the process, yet I gave no clue as to what I really felt. I hinted, and I scraped the surface, but I am damned good at leaving the important feelings/thoughts/ideas out of the mix. It was about respecting authority, it was about a client/provider relationship, it was about customer service and what to do when the customer is no longer right, and in the end, at the end, when he said to me, "It's been a good day", I think I wanted to exert some violent behavior toward his direction. How can this man be so observant, yet so entirely clueless? He crosses a line, whilst drawing a line so solid no one could traverse it. How can he do this? It's a dance. And I end up seeing him as a chameleon, there to please everyone, shape shifting, altering his colors, his patterns, according to the person right there in front of him, and we respond in kind. He manipulates, and this sickens me, only when I finally realize it. No, it was not a good day, are you fucking mad? I broke down in front of you, you saw that, and you called it a physical manifestation of stress, but I call it an emotional breakdown, and a lapse in mental reason, and I call it extreme anger with no outlet. Last night I dreamed of guns, intruders, a large body assaulting me in my bed, reaching for a gun, wanting a gun, wanting to kill, to defend, I had nightmares. But I felt so good when it was time to go to work, the cat fed, and antibiotic-ed, jaunty, ready, set for the day, music picked out for the CD ROM drive, for the headphones, for the mindless data entry, and then it all went to hell. The discussion yet again, amongst us all, the instruction to kowtow, and I said I will NOT, I DO NOT, I don't care who she is, I don't play that game, we were always wannabe corporate, it was never the real thing, the customer is fucking us up our asses with spiked steel rods right now, or fisting us hard, deep, and it hurts, and I know how much money she makes, I want to vomit when I think of her salary, and I will NOT alter my behavior any further, and I will NOT be told to alter my behavior any further, nor will I be told what HER situation is, and how I really need to get where she is coming from. Fuck that shit, ya dig? MMMMkay. He values me, he values me, sure, sure, I got it, he placates and he cajoles and he manipulates, and I no longer trust him, I am cynicism personified, now. No more of this crap. I don't care about food, and ice cream and cookies, no sugar induced comas for this woman. You underestimate me, kind gentleman. I do switch from third person to second person and sometimes on to first within paragraphs, don't I? I'm okay. He said it, she said it, and I loved the rush of tissues, and the "Do you want to go to the bathroom?"s, and the care and the concern that maybe three people showed. I have no doubt the rest were dumbfounded. "This REALLY pisses me off!" is probably not appropriate input during a company meeting, now is it?, especially not when accompanied by a temper tantrum culminating in sobbing in one's cubicle. He hated I left the meeting, but I was sick of it, I've heard it all before, I'm tired of hearing it, and lo and behold, he says later, "It's fixed, I needed your input...", as if he made me do it, as if he got off on making me freak out, as if he needed to push, and he knew he was pushing, and he was waiting for one of us to crack under the pressure and scream, "I NO LONGER HAVE A JOB AND SHE'S MAKING EIGHTY THOUSAND A YEAR AND YOU WANT ME TO WHAT?@?@?@?@?@?@?" Ah, there, I did write it after all. So let him read it, fine, if he figures it out, he figures it out, three more days and I'll never see him again anyway. Wax, wane, wax, wane, today I waxed in feeling, today I waned, and today was decidedly SO not a good day, you have lost your fucking mind if you think it was. Today was one of the very worst days I have ever had. But, know what? Yes, that's right, it's over now. And my life resumes. I think a consciousness altering is in order, and some good TV, yes, you know it, my "Gilmore Girls" and the best show ever to grace the public airwaves, one "Amazing Race" - go, Rob and Ambuh, go! I'm okay, she reiterated. I'm okay. Tomorrow is another day, and I'm sorry I left the Key Lime Pie for tomorrow sitting in the bag on the floor when I got home, it's in the fridge now, and G. had her dinner, eaten without force, and her antibiotics, and I read about her kind of cancer online, and it's cool, it may be all gone, but you know that had so much to do with it today, "I'm losing my job, and my cat has cancer", she cried. The supervisor who sits in the cube next door came to me and insisted on hugging me, told me I couldn't turn away this time, and I reached my arms around her shoulders and I hugged her back, like really hugged her, my first close human physical contact in months, and I began to cry even harder. No, this was decidedly not a good day. Onward. Cost of the War in Iraq
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