And right about then is when I gave up.

So if I were to use one descriptive word to…uh…describe how this morning was, I would use “shitty”. 

An issue at work got blown out of proportion.  There was miscommunication and general clusterfuckery all around.  Emails were fired off, decisions were made, reconsidered, and changed again, all before one could exhale.  I guess that’s what to expect when you work in an ER.  But I don’t work in an ER, I work in an office.  And usually I can laugh things like this off, or at least let it roll off of me.  But this morning I got frustrated.

Here are the email highlights.

AF (to everyone): As discussed, here are notes from the meeting, revised to include your comments.  Again, please let me know if there are any comments, questions, concerns, or suggestions.  Thank you!  (Right here, I’m still trying to be diplomatic and helpful.)

Manager A (to everyone) – Manager B, please let me know ASAP if these changes are okay.  Thanks!  (I’ve begun to paraphrase.)

My Boss (to everyone) – I asked AF to review changes with Manager B to see what she’s okay with.

AF (to Boss) – Boss, I spoke with Manager A and asked if he’d like to review the changes with Manager B and he said he didn’t have time so to just forward him the email and he’d confer with Manager B.

Manager A (to everyone) – I didn’t know that was the plan.  AF, please review with Manager B and let me know any changes ASAP.

AF (to Boss and Manager A) – Clearly we’re not all on the same page.  Please let me know if I’m now responsible to meet with Manager B and relay the changes.

AF (to Boss and Manager A) – And now Top Boss said he may meet with Manager B to discuss the changes.  Or he may want to meet with Boss and Manager A and Manager B.  In any case, I should probably be there to make sure I know all the changes.

Boss (to AF and Manager A) – We are all a team.  I am anticipating concerns from other departments.  (Insert lesson on how to work with other departments for the good of the team, and how I should do things whether or not they’re my responsibility.  It’s supposed to be helpful but feels eerily similar to a reprimand.)  That’s called politicking.  (Editor’s note- I still don’t know if I’m responsible for discussing the changes, making the decisions, and relaying this information to our consultants.)

Manager A (to AF and Boss) – Top Boss wants to have a meeting this afternoon.  I won’t be there.  Take good notes!

I’m not invited to the meeting, nor do I know when or where it is.  About here’s where I realize that I still have no real power, I still don’t have any answers, and I will still be held responsible for all changes. 

AF (to Manager A) – I certainly will.

I realize that the countless emails I’ve sent out with simple to read, detailed notes have not been read.  The meetings I’ve had in person where I’ve gone over everything have not been remembered.  The meetings wherein I’ve invited other managers when these items were discussed, were not attended.  I make probably a third of what these managers make.  And I will still be held accountable for any misunderstanding, oversight, or disliked thing that happens.  Despite my numerous efforts to keep people informed and encourage participation, this incident has lent an unfavorable light on my communication and organizational skills.  This makes me a sad panda.

I am trying not to cry.  When you’re a kid, crying is an acceptable form of communication.  It conveys pain.  When you’re an adult, crying conveys that you’re a whiny pussy who can’t handle a big tough grown-up job, and perhaps you would be better suited braiding hair and baking pies in the kitchen after getting pregnant.  Or maybe just that you’re a bit emotional, and your overreaction is unfavorable.  It could be both.  Or I could be unclear on specifically how that act reflects on me; I may be exaggerating.  It’s hard to tell.

Manager A (to AF) – Wow!  This has all been blown way out of proportion!  Good luck!

And right about here is when I gave up.

AF (to Manager A) – Yes, it appears as though it has.  I am ready for Thursday.  You see, Thursday is the day after today.  Which means that this day is over.  Which is a fine thing, if one were to ask me.  Which one has not.  But I am a giving person, so I give my opinions.  And that was one of them. Another one?  Zombies- overrated.  If I want to watch a movie where everyone is going to die I’ll watch “An Inconvenient Truth”.  At least I can recycle.  Recycling isn’t going to cure Zombies. 

I’m pretty sure the work discussion is over when you bring up zombies.  And his silence reinforces this belief.  Which, by my count, makes me the winner. 

I think the lesson to be learned here is that when you’re having a day like this, all before lunch no less, under no circumstances should you give, loan, or sell, a fuck.  It only leads to impotent rage and frustration.  It is only when you accept the absurdity of your situation and truly look at the events in light of this grandiose context we scholars refer to as “life”, that you begin to relax.  A year from now, I won’t remember this moment, or this day.  Unless I re-read this post, of course.  You’ve got me there, smarty-britches.  Regardless, I likely won’t recall this day without assistance, and for that reason alone, I shouldn’t waste my tears or energy. 

And by the way, I’m serious about the Zombie thing.  I’m sure it lowers my “cool” points but I don’t get the obsession.  I thought “Shaun of the Dead” was hilarious just like everyone else did, but I’m not spending sleepless nights planning my escape route for the rise of the dead.  I’d rather spend my time trying to think of efficient ways to store mass-produced energy, or which foods are not improved by the addition of cheese.  Plus, I was raised Catholic.  I’m pretty sure “dead people walking” is called a resurrection.  Like Jesus.  And Lazarus.  If someone shot Lazarus, I imagine Jesus would be pissed.  He’d be all, “Awww hell no I did not see you just do that after I spent all day trying to wake him up.  Martha, hold these.”  Then He’d take out his earrings and his Halo and whoop. your. ass.  And once He was done He’d heal you, but then He’d say, “And what did we learn today?  That’s right: we don’t shoot the resurrected.”  And then He’d hug you, because Jesus is Love, after all.  And if you still didn’t get it, because you’re inexplicably slow, He’d show you an old “Goofus and Gallant”* cartoon, and He’d ask, “Now, do you want to be a Goofus or a Gallant?  That’s right, nobody wants to be a Goofus.”  And you’d sniffle and apologize to Lazarus, and it would be okay, but quite frankly, the whole thing would be really embarrassing for you.  For everyone, really. 

"DUDE!  NOT.  COOL."  Let the holy brawl begin.

*If you don’t know what “Goofus and Gallant” is you’re either a lot younger than I am or you’ve never been to a dentist or a pediatrician.  Or both.