My mom and I were texting about the weather the other day and I asked her if they'd had rain recently. She said no and mentioned tornado warnings in a nearby town. (They live in Kansas.) Then she texted, "I HATE THIS TIME OF YEAR!!!"
I had to chuckle because she says that at least once a season:
During which season is she actually happy? Why doesn't she move out of that state, if it's so bad, every year, every season? Such passionate feelings about a situation surely require actions to resolve them, no? I use these conversations with my mom as lessons for myself to reflect on my own feelings, especially negative ones. Do I hate every season in Minnesota? Thankfully, no. I honestly dislike parts of Winter - the really cold days, the dangerously icy or snowy days that make commuting difficult. The length of the season. But the rest of the year, I love it here. If I didn't, if I had a reason to hate each season, I would like to think I'd take action, seek an alternative. Move instead of constantly complaining. Taking action is what I did when I hated my last job. I applied for over 140 jobs to get the hell out of that toxic situation. I didn't just stay and complain about it. I got out. When I was a reluctant participant in a writing partnership I'd never wanted, I bowed out when I realized the relationship was sucking the joy out of my life. I do complain a lot, as humans tend to do. But I try to be conscious about my choices and my happiness levels. I try to recognize if I'm just having a bad day or if I'm immersed in a situation I need to escape. I'm also working on finding ways to be more positive. Even if it's trying to find a tiny bit of good or amusement in a negative situation. For example, when a car was speeding past everyone on the highway, zipping from lane to lane, I thought to myself, "Well, at least he's using his turn signal when he swerves abruptly into the next lane. How courteous!" And sometimes, if it's an inescapable negative situation (waiting in line at the DMV, for example), the best we can do is find ways to amuse ourselves to bear through it.
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I realize I'm very lucky.
I have my day job, where I've worked for over 3-1/2 years. A record for me. I'm lucky because it's nowhere near being the toxic environment of my previous job. I'm fortunate the commute isn't worse. About 25 minutes in the morning and 40 minutes home. I work on the outskirts of Minneapolis, where there's a fantastic view, a park and the Mississippi River nearby. My coworkers and managers are pleasant, mostly happy and sometimes we have fun at work. I have health insurance, my pay is good and we get bonuses, perks, happy hours and occasional catered lunches. I'm lucky. But I'm tired. Some days the commute is longer. There's weather, an accident or some unexplained circumstances that slows us to a halt. There are crazy drivers - "Minnesota Nice" isn't allowed in some people's vehicles, apparently. There are work politics, cliques, favoritism, questionable practices and an IT infrastructure that is always five steps behind. I still have thirteen years before I can consider retiring. But, do you see that picture above? It was taken last summer. It's a view I want to see more than one week of the year. How do I get there? I first met my friend, Jade, when I began working as a copywriter at a local company that managed promotions, coupons and rebate programs. Jade was an account executive, tasked with seeking out new customers. I accompanied her and my new manager, the director of marketing, to a site visit at a client's manufacturing plant. I could tell Jade was different than any coworker I've had before, not just because she had bright magenta hair and multiple piercings in her ear. She had a positive energy and was effervescent. She did not seem to possess any shyness, a trait I'm plagued with. When it soon became evident my new place of employment was a toxic environment where the owner/manager would go from being your best friend to a cruel, micromanaging dictator from one day to the next. There was often a dark pall permeating the offices. Whispers of discontent, gossip, bitterness were prevalent. But there was Jade, who not only made lemonade from lemons, but spiked it with rum. She lit up a room with her presence and her laughter eased the tension and made each day fun. There were so many times that I felt trapped in that job. I grew to hate it more every day and was always scared to make a mistake and draw the attention and wrath of the manager. Jade seemed to shake things off, and she spread cheer and showered those of us she liked with food, treats and funny gifts. She once bought me a superhero cape that read "Sooper Copiwrighter" as a joke. Jade was always a glowing warm light in the darkness of a terrible workplace. Then Jade left and I was stuck without a friend, without her laughter, without hope. For six months. I applied for dozens of jobs and interviewed for a handful. There seemed no way out. Always, Jade promised, "I will get you out of there." But my doubt grew. She was busy learning the ropes of her new job and raising her family. She'd forget me. But she didn't forget. A position opened at Jade's new company. She forwarded the job description, recommended me to the hiring manager and gave me tips for what to say during the interview. I was hired. Jade saved me from one of the worst companies I've ever worked. Though Jade moved on to another company, I still have the cape and my friendship with her. I work full time. It's my day job and when I'm not working, like everyone else, I must tend to everyday matters - laundry, grocery shopping, paying bills, making meals and so on.
My second job is writing. I squeeze that in whenever I can and that time is certainly at a premium. My third job is making sure other people do their jobs. No, I don't go up to people working their positions and supervise. But I do have to make sure that people aren't doing their jobs incorrectly in a way that will affect me or my family. This past Sunday we went to the grocery store and I monitored the items being scanned by the cashier. I caught her ringing up two bags of softener salt as an incorrect brand, which would have cost us $1.35 more per bag. She rang up a white onion as jicama, which costs .09 cents more. And after we unloaded our groceries into the car, we realized she rang up one pineapple as 11. ELEVEN. At $2.98 a pineapple. I had to go back into the store, spend 15 minutes waiting at guest services and then I had to show the rep behind the desk how to scan the barcode on the receipt on my phone to process my credit. The only payment I receive for this third job is saving us all the money we'd have lost on that single grocery trip. If I hadn't done this third job, we would have lost $32.50. I shudder to think how much money we've lost over the years we didn't take time to monitor our purchases as they were being scanned. Or when we didn't do a quick count of our change to make sure it was correct. People make mistakes, it's true. I know, I've made plenty of my own. But it's disheartening to know that these mistakes sometimes cost others money and time. I was once in a meeting where a manager presented us with his suggestions for improving some processes. After he was done, he asked for our thoughts. A coworker began explaining how his suggestions were flawed, where the holes were and what the repercussions might be.
Instead of taking consideration of what she said, the manager exploded. He said childish things to my coworker, none of which applied to the processes we were examining. We all knew his processes were flawed and he was wrong. And he knew it, too. But in that moment, when the ideas he thought were flawless were proven weak, he took it personally and handled it poorly. I was once in my coworker's shoes. It was also in a meeting with a manager. The manager wanted our team to come in to work fifteen minutes early to attend a special meeting. But instead of having us clock in when we arrived, he said we could take a longer lunch. When I pointed out this was illegal, because he was trying to avoid paying us any overtime, his face turned red and he shouted at me until I was nearly in tears. But he then said we should punch in when we arrived for the meeting. He knew he was wrong, he didn't like it. And he didn't like being called out on it. Both these situations happened at work and in front of subordinates. Perhaps that is why each manager reacted childishly. It's embarrassing to be wrong, to have our errors pointed out to us. I don't like making mistakes. Who does? But I also would prefer to have things done correctly, preventing future problems. I've developed the mindset to learn from my mistakes. Not make those errors again. I do get a flash of anger when someone points out my mistakes. For a minute, it is aimed at that person, but only in my mind. I've trained myself to automatically thank that person for letting me know. I mull it over, realize they were right and understand the anger I'm feeling is really at myself. Then I take steps to fix it and hopefully never make it again. I'm human, I remind myself. Humans make mistakes. A good human uses their mistakes as learning tools. |
About Sally FarleyI'm a typical, hardworking Midwesterner, enduring (and sometimes participating in) the passive-aggressive complexities of life in Minnesota. ArchivesLinksAsk a Manager
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