Saturday, June 02, 2012
This is what really matters…
sometimes, you just need to hear it from an unexpected source…
I’ve had a pretty bad two weeks at work - spent doing everything EXCEPT my job - and it’s been taking a huge toll on me.
To the point where I had a temper tantrum and then someone had to step up and fight for me, because I don’t have the words.
The words I would USE, if I could say them out loud, would be along the lines of:
I’m protected under the ADA, and I hate to throw that out there, but I don’t think that what I’m asking for is unrealistic.
You hired me because I was good at what I do. You’ve kept me on because I’ve always gone above and beyond what you’ve asked and expected of me.
I’m so broken, and I have been for a while now. Everything is falling apart, and I don’t even know the person you hired.
All I’m asking for is you to cut me some slack.
You’ve been doing the right things for me for a while, even if you don’t know it:
- the private, quiet place where I can hide and protect my coworkers from myself
- the assistant what was supposed to lessen my workload
- the restructuring of the finance department to really lessen my workload
But this new thing is out of control and you’ve hired someone to do what you’re asking me. It’s far out of my realm of knowledge and nothing I want to learn anytime soon. I don’t know why they don’t want to do their job. I don’t know why they think I want to run this show. I don’t want any part of it. Not one fucking bit.
I’m sorry if someone fought for me and won, but I’m not going to apologize for the work that got dumped on your plate. Hold a grudge. Hate me forever.
Do it.
I bet you can.
But I’m tired of letting you help drive me to the brink. I’m putting my foot down and setting boundaries.
You’re not going to win because if I have to choose, you’re going to lose.
This is my life you’re fucking with.
And it ends now.
So, yeah. Someone had to say all that on my behalf… and while I’m embarrassed, and ashamed, I’m forever grateful.
To make myself feel better, I’m looking at my red dress pictures and the message I was sent on Facebook. It reminds me that I am not my job. That I am a person. A sick person, to be sure, but a person nonetheless.
A SEXY person.
Permalink
