Soapbox Diner
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Don't hurt no more |
05.14.07 |
Has it really been 20 days since I last updated? Wow. Time flies.
Things are well here. Things are bleak. I am lonely and sore and tired and dispirited. I work hard and I keep busy, and it's only in the quiet times that I realize how unfulfilled it all feels.
I drove through the old town tonight. I don't know why. The detective told me Mr. T has been released from jail with an ankle bracelet on, and is living with his ex in Old Town, or so he thought. Luckily I know where she lives there (only a couple miles from the old trailer), so I get to skulk in and abouts to see if I can see his vehicle. This, so I can drive myself even more insane. I didn't see it. It wasn't there, or at his favorite bars, or at 'the fellas'. They, however, were all out in the yard as I drove past the block. I could hear their laughter from down the street. I don't think they saw me, though. I cannot express how thankful for that I am. Of course, they all know what's going on. He has told them, and they in turn tell my girlfriends all about what kind of evil person I am, and how I did him dirty.
I shouldn't really expect understanding from them though, I suppose.
I am still working diligently in the yard. The fence is down and the vegetable garden is now just a patch of leveled dirt calling out for grass seed. The flowers I planted are starting to bloom and it all looks so big, even though I have a mound of bark still to barrel over load by load for spreading.
Steven turns 11 this Sunday. I am hosting a party. All the important people will be here, work and family and friends alike. It will be the first time most of them will see the house.
Steven and I (and by that, I really mean just me) moved all my furnishings out of the master bedroom into the office. The office is now my own cozy, not-to-big sanctuary. All the gaming parafernalia is now in the master, which is really no long 'the master', but the rec/family room. It all feels better that way, and I don't feel so isolated in too much empty space.
Last week at work, we relocated to the newly built abode, which is lovely with three-walled, 6 x 8 foot cubes for us all. It almost feels like an office, except not. I tell myself that all is well, and I go in every day with high expectations of a good day, only to become enveloped in claustrophobic, disheartened dejection by mid-morning.
We are growing so fast, and it is a mess. The right doesn't know what the left is doing, and I end up wandering about looking for somebody, anybody, who can address the issues that come up due to the jumble. That's my job, Executive Mess Fixer. Only I can't do my job because I don't know who does what or the processes by which the messes became messes in the first place. So I question, question, question. And I actively seek the process. And I listen. And I suggest ways to make it better.
But somehow I have developed the reputation as the hard-nosed nay-sayer and so no one of importance hears me, except my girl Brazen Hussy, who I share my insights with. She funnels them to the important people for me and they listen to her. I guess the end result is the same - in that the processes are being streamlined and all our jobs are easier and more efficient. I must say, however, that the A-type in me really resents that I am not recognized or held in higher esteem. Hussy says it is not yet my time, but that if I bide my time, My Time will come. Feh. Perhaps, but at what price?
Today Boss had Hussy call a meeting with Princess and The Temp to iron out just what's going on in the new "division". Hussy is like me, and this is her strength. Hussy said it all came about because Friday, when Princess was off, many bad things developed which were discovered in Executive Mess Fixing (oh, yeah, that's right - by me). Princess had let a couple things slide and no one else in the whole company knew a thing about how or why. So Hussy shared with boss the few items I mentioned, and Boss told her to hold a meeting ASAP. Nevermind that I've been saying ththese same things for months. It's only really real when some one else says it instead of me. Jesus, that's frustrating. I think of all the time that could have been saved and all the inefficiencies and problems we've been beating ourselves with for MONTHS, and I know that these are the very things I have begged to have looked at and have offered input for solutions for as long as this division has been in existence. And now - now they are addressed, four hours after my concerns are filtered through Hussy into the boss's ear.
And I vent. Obviously, I must be going about sharing my observations incorrectly, because these are good and smart business women with no outward exhibitions of untoward motives or emotions towards me. Therefore, my approach must be off, and I have the power to observe and correct that, the best I can. Like the marquee I put on my screen saver today says - Envision Precision. That's what I need to do.
It's all enough to make my brain hurt.
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