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Weekly Update
It's funny how quickly a week goes by. It's also funny how, over the past 8 years, the beats of my weeks have gotten so totally screwed.
I started working at the hotel in February 2004. I started in housekeeping before moving to front desk in May. But I never had a standard 8-5 Monday-through-Friday schedule; I worked when I was needed when in housekeeping, and when I moved to front desk, it was usually Monday morning shift, Tuesday Wednesday evening shift, Thursday off, Friday Saturday overnight shift, Sunday off, Monday starts again. No real weekend there.
When I started working at the newspaper in July of 2005, I stayed on at the hotel to cover Friday and Saturday overnight shifts. And I have ever since then. I occasionally take off a weekend, and I'm always surprised by how much I get done, and how relaxed I am on a Friday, knowing I don't have to work.
The beats of my week usually go like this now: Monday morning, up by 6, get ready for the paper coming out Wednesday. Tuesday is the busy day; it's the 'humpday" of my week- Monday is building to that Tuesday crescendo; Tuesday is when it all peaks. Wednesday, the paper comes out, I do some work for the other publications, but it's a lot slower. Thursday is the catch-up day, and the slowest day of my work week. Friday is a rush- I get everything ready for our Sunday paper, and try to get out of the office as soon as possible, so I can go home and sleep before being at the hotel at 10 pm. I'm usually lucky if I can manage four hours of sleep- it's usually more like 3, and that's broken up by waking to a panic that I've overslept and it's morning and I'm missing work at the paper at least once if not twice.
Work the Friday night shift in a daze. Come home and I'm usually in bed by 7 am Saturday. Try to sleep until 2 pm; usually wake up at noon. Stay up, maybe nap before returning to the hotel at 10 that evening, but I'm mostly useless as my body tries to adjust. Saturday night I'm in a little better shape, but it's far too easy to get sucked into reading rage comics all night instead of actually doing anything productive. Sunday morning, leave work at 6 and hopefully in bed by 7. Try not to sleep later than noon. Sometimes oversleep as late as 2 pm on Sundays. Get up and try to be productive- do laundry, run the dishwasher, clean the house, etc. Go to bed by 9 usually, read until 10, lights out, up at 6 Monday morning, the cycle repeats.
I'm so incredibly sick of this schedule.
Monday was going well this week, until my boss blew up for some bizarre reason. Ad an came in by email, I wasn't sure what to do with it, I showed it to her, she got snippy and repeated to me over and over that she had "written it up" which I repeated back to her saying I wasn't disputing that, but could I have the paperwork please? She finally stomped to the fax machine, found it where she had left it, and stomped back to me, thrusting it into my hands with a most annoyingly peeved expression on her face. I said, "Thanks, now I know how to save the ad." and went back to my desk. She STOMPED away, and then STOMPED back a few seconds later, and hissed at me with her finger in my face, "Just a reminder, I AM STILL in CHARGE of this DEPARTMENT!"
And it all fell apart from there. I looked at her, and said, "I have not disputed that, but what I see her is that you left the paperwork on the fax machine, and now you're blaming me for your mistake." Probably the wrong tactic to take, but I honestly didn't care. I've been so stressed and annoyed there lately, as well as at the hotel, that I don't always care if I'm fired (not that I'm slacking off at either place.)
She screams, "Back room, NOW!" and points to the back of the office to the interview room. She STOMPS her way there while I briskly walk behind her, because I did not feel like backing down. Sure, she's my boss, but I'm not sucking up and accepting blame for her mistakes, especially from her as it sets a double standard in the office that I'm not willing to accept.
She grabs the meeting room door with both hands and turns around to throw it shut as hard as she can. She's a petite woman; probably a third of my size, if that, but she really put her strength and weight into slamming that door. However, I hadn't quite made it all the way through the door yet when she tried to slam it, and as it bounced forlornly off my boot, I'm pretty sure she didn't get the effect she was looking for. I considered saying a deadpan "ow," but decided not to.
So, for the next 15 minutes, we got in each other's faces and yelled and screamed at each other. As it turns out, she wasn't even so much mad at me as she was mad at the current office situation and the missing work order, as well as her placing emotive quantification on statements I make that use none, broke the camel's back.
(She apparently hates it when I say, "When you have a minute, could you come see me please?" When I say it, I mean nothing more than what the words say. When she hears it, she hears it as an order from a superior, and it pisses her off. This baffles me, and I don't feel it's my problem to solve, but I'm trying to anyway.)
By the time we were done, she high-fived me and things were good. I still have a little lingering resentment and bitterness, because secretly, I still think she sort of blames me for the blow up, but whatever. I didn't back down, and I won't back down if it happens again. I know I have a rep at the office of being a bit of a know-it-all that doesn't make mistakes. This is because I take great pains not to say things unless I know they are correct, as well as documenting and covering my ass repeatedly so that if a mistake is made, I cannot be blamed for it if it is someone else's fault; however, I am more than willing to own up to my own mistakes. I just work very hard not to make any. I am very good at what I do.
Here's a mysterious picture to look at while I try and remember what point I was going to make.
Oh yeah- the point: If I am right, and if I have done no wrong, I'm willing to lose my job sticking up for myself.
Ok, week progresses. Dad came home from the hospital last weekend and has been doing fine, although he tires easily. He was incredibly touched by his five-year old grandson (my nephew) coming to see him and telling him how much he had been missed. I think it really made what I told him while he was still in the hospital sink in ...
Before he was discharged, dad told me on the phone that he was looking forward to getting out of the hospital so he could get back to work in his shop and actually accomplish something. I spluttered a bit and told him that the only thing he needed to work on was getting as well as possible, and that maybe he should just consider his job from now was to be a grandpa.
Gratuitous Ike picture.
On Wednesday, I finally got the go ahead from the publisher to order the new equipment our newspaper needs. Horray! Thursday morning, the accountant calls me in a panic, saying I need to call and put the order on hold. Apparently, it has to be billed to a different company, not ours, or it won't get paid for ... I get in touch with our account rep, he starts putting things on hold, I forward him emails from the accountant, he writes back with questions, then he calls her, and for the entire day there is an ongoing back-and-forth email and phone dialog to try and get the order sorted; by the end of the day, seven different people were involved.
I still don't know if the order was placed or not.
Jinx, I promise you this is the same food that is in your bowl.
So, there's my week in a nutshell. Speaking of nutshells, I made walnut gelatin that tasted surprisingly nothing like walnuts. I'm sure I'm forgetting other things, but for now, I'm tired of typing. But here's the secret behind the mysterious glowing orbs in the first photo:
Hey, it's cool if we just hang out here for awhile, right?
See you next week.
I started working at the hotel in February 2004. I started in housekeeping before moving to front desk in May. But I never had a standard 8-5 Monday-through-Friday schedule; I worked when I was needed when in housekeeping, and when I moved to front desk, it was usually Monday morning shift, Tuesday Wednesday evening shift, Thursday off, Friday Saturday overnight shift, Sunday off, Monday starts again. No real weekend there.
When I started working at the newspaper in July of 2005, I stayed on at the hotel to cover Friday and Saturday overnight shifts. And I have ever since then. I occasionally take off a weekend, and I'm always surprised by how much I get done, and how relaxed I am on a Friday, knowing I don't have to work.
The beats of my week usually go like this now: Monday morning, up by 6, get ready for the paper coming out Wednesday. Tuesday is the busy day; it's the 'humpday" of my week- Monday is building to that Tuesday crescendo; Tuesday is when it all peaks. Wednesday, the paper comes out, I do some work for the other publications, but it's a lot slower. Thursday is the catch-up day, and the slowest day of my work week. Friday is a rush- I get everything ready for our Sunday paper, and try to get out of the office as soon as possible, so I can go home and sleep before being at the hotel at 10 pm. I'm usually lucky if I can manage four hours of sleep- it's usually more like 3, and that's broken up by waking to a panic that I've overslept and it's morning and I'm missing work at the paper at least once if not twice.
Work the Friday night shift in a daze. Come home and I'm usually in bed by 7 am Saturday. Try to sleep until 2 pm; usually wake up at noon. Stay up, maybe nap before returning to the hotel at 10 that evening, but I'm mostly useless as my body tries to adjust. Saturday night I'm in a little better shape, but it's far too easy to get sucked into reading rage comics all night instead of actually doing anything productive. Sunday morning, leave work at 6 and hopefully in bed by 7. Try not to sleep later than noon. Sometimes oversleep as late as 2 pm on Sundays. Get up and try to be productive- do laundry, run the dishwasher, clean the house, etc. Go to bed by 9 usually, read until 10, lights out, up at 6 Monday morning, the cycle repeats.
I'm so incredibly sick of this schedule.
Monday was going well this week, until my boss blew up for some bizarre reason. Ad an came in by email, I wasn't sure what to do with it, I showed it to her, she got snippy and repeated to me over and over that she had "written it up" which I repeated back to her saying I wasn't disputing that, but could I have the paperwork please? She finally stomped to the fax machine, found it where she had left it, and stomped back to me, thrusting it into my hands with a most annoyingly peeved expression on her face. I said, "Thanks, now I know how to save the ad." and went back to my desk. She STOMPED away, and then STOMPED back a few seconds later, and hissed at me with her finger in my face, "Just a reminder, I AM STILL in CHARGE of this DEPARTMENT!"
And it all fell apart from there. I looked at her, and said, "I have not disputed that, but what I see her is that you left the paperwork on the fax machine, and now you're blaming me for your mistake." Probably the wrong tactic to take, but I honestly didn't care. I've been so stressed and annoyed there lately, as well as at the hotel, that I don't always care if I'm fired (not that I'm slacking off at either place.)
She screams, "Back room, NOW!" and points to the back of the office to the interview room. She STOMPS her way there while I briskly walk behind her, because I did not feel like backing down. Sure, she's my boss, but I'm not sucking up and accepting blame for her mistakes, especially from her as it sets a double standard in the office that I'm not willing to accept.
She grabs the meeting room door with both hands and turns around to throw it shut as hard as she can. She's a petite woman; probably a third of my size, if that, but she really put her strength and weight into slamming that door. However, I hadn't quite made it all the way through the door yet when she tried to slam it, and as it bounced forlornly off my boot, I'm pretty sure she didn't get the effect she was looking for. I considered saying a deadpan "ow," but decided not to.
So, for the next 15 minutes, we got in each other's faces and yelled and screamed at each other. As it turns out, she wasn't even so much mad at me as she was mad at the current office situation and the missing work order, as well as her placing emotive quantification on statements I make that use none, broke the camel's back.
(She apparently hates it when I say, "When you have a minute, could you come see me please?" When I say it, I mean nothing more than what the words say. When she hears it, she hears it as an order from a superior, and it pisses her off. This baffles me, and I don't feel it's my problem to solve, but I'm trying to anyway.)
By the time we were done, she high-fived me and things were good. I still have a little lingering resentment and bitterness, because secretly, I still think she sort of blames me for the blow up, but whatever. I didn't back down, and I won't back down if it happens again. I know I have a rep at the office of being a bit of a know-it-all that doesn't make mistakes. This is because I take great pains not to say things unless I know they are correct, as well as documenting and covering my ass repeatedly so that if a mistake is made, I cannot be blamed for it if it is someone else's fault; however, I am more than willing to own up to my own mistakes. I just work very hard not to make any. I am very good at what I do.
Here's a mysterious picture to look at while I try and remember what point I was going to make.
Oh yeah- the point: If I am right, and if I have done no wrong, I'm willing to lose my job sticking up for myself.
Ok, week progresses. Dad came home from the hospital last weekend and has been doing fine, although he tires easily. He was incredibly touched by his five-year old grandson (my nephew) coming to see him and telling him how much he had been missed. I think it really made what I told him while he was still in the hospital sink in ...
Before he was discharged, dad told me on the phone that he was looking forward to getting out of the hospital so he could get back to work in his shop and actually accomplish something. I spluttered a bit and told him that the only thing he needed to work on was getting as well as possible, and that maybe he should just consider his job from now was to be a grandpa.
Gratuitous Ike picture.
On Wednesday, I finally got the go ahead from the publisher to order the new equipment our newspaper needs. Horray! Thursday morning, the accountant calls me in a panic, saying I need to call and put the order on hold. Apparently, it has to be billed to a different company, not ours, or it won't get paid for ... I get in touch with our account rep, he starts putting things on hold, I forward him emails from the accountant, he writes back with questions, then he calls her, and for the entire day there is an ongoing back-and-forth email and phone dialog to try and get the order sorted; by the end of the day, seven different people were involved.
I still don't know if the order was placed or not.
Jinx, I promise you this is the same food that is in your bowl.
So, there's my week in a nutshell. Speaking of nutshells, I made walnut gelatin that tasted surprisingly nothing like walnuts. I'm sure I'm forgetting other things, but for now, I'm tired of typing. But here's the secret behind the mysterious glowing orbs in the first photo:
Hey, it's cool if we just hang out here for awhile, right?
See you next week.