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Ugh, ugh, and double ugh
Jan. 10th, 2003 12:03 pmOh, look. More white stuff falling out of the sky. Oh, yippie skippie. *grumble*
So I show up to work yesterday, and instantly am let in on the next round of office rumors: the company is going to declare another surplus in March, and they're going to let 40 people go from our office alone. I should've just walked right out and gone home, because that was not what I wanted to hear, thank you very much. I later got to talk to one of the union people, who set the record straight: the "40" is pure speculation of the worst possible scenario, the company would have to jump through several hoops before they could even get to lay people off, blahdi-blahdi-blah. But, yeah, the surplus thing will probably happen, so don't get too comfortable. Christ on a cracker... This wouldn't bother me so much if I didn't have four and a half years' worth of service; the problem is, I have that much time under my belt, but nothing even resembling seniority because they've only hired about a dozen people since I came in.
So I got on the phone and ranted to Kristi, who was the wrong person to rant to; she was very sympathetic, and as helpful as she could be, but if I get axed, we're both up a particular creek without a particular rowing implement. Then I started yanking out my hair, with my brain caught in loops that were not helpful in the slightest. It amazes me how easy it is sometimes to go back into my old cycles of self-hatred and worry and fear, how mental questions like "how many sleeping pills do we have in the bathroom right now?" still pop up when I feel like I'm about to hit a wall (although they don't stick around for more than a second, as opposed to days on end). I mean, for crying out loud, what am I, 17 again? But I did elbow my way out of it, with the help of Kristi, and a few coworkers who said, "Look, this is exactly the same story we've been hearing every six months since we got here," which is most certainly true. Putting up a sign at my desk that read, "WELCOME TO THE RUMOR MILL! PANIC BREWED WHILE YOU WAIT!" helped, too. It's just that I got fired from four jobs in two years before ending up at Verizon, and it's Verizon that's blocking my thoughts that I'm unemployable and useless. Drop kick that, and then what?
I'm a lot better today, though. Wish I could say the same about Nik, who hacked his way through the night with a lovely little case of the croup. (He was still the most chipper creature in the house this morning, though. Don't know how he does it.) He's at Margie's right now, although he's still a little cloggy; as he said when I asked him how he was, "Muffle Wuffle NOSE."
Today I need to start preparations for dinner on Sunday, which will be attended by Col, Trey, Jimmy, Smitty, Cheech, Marci (coworker, not sis-in-law), and Kristi and me, and the kids; Kristi's parents, wisely, have opted to hide in a nice safe restaurant in an undisclosed location until the affected area is secured. The menu: chicken with Riesling (yes, the one on the cover of this month's Food and Wine), fettucine, roasted green beans with garlic, and zabaglione. Boy, I hope this doesn't suck.
And confidential to cryptic crossword fans, and you know who you are: Latest Games World of Puzzles is out, with a snootload of Patrick Berry cryptics in it. You know you want it. (No, nothing of mine this time. Sigh...)
So I show up to work yesterday, and instantly am let in on the next round of office rumors: the company is going to declare another surplus in March, and they're going to let 40 people go from our office alone. I should've just walked right out and gone home, because that was not what I wanted to hear, thank you very much. I later got to talk to one of the union people, who set the record straight: the "40" is pure speculation of the worst possible scenario, the company would have to jump through several hoops before they could even get to lay people off, blahdi-blahdi-blah. But, yeah, the surplus thing will probably happen, so don't get too comfortable. Christ on a cracker... This wouldn't bother me so much if I didn't have four and a half years' worth of service; the problem is, I have that much time under my belt, but nothing even resembling seniority because they've only hired about a dozen people since I came in.
So I got on the phone and ranted to Kristi, who was the wrong person to rant to; she was very sympathetic, and as helpful as she could be, but if I get axed, we're both up a particular creek without a particular rowing implement. Then I started yanking out my hair, with my brain caught in loops that were not helpful in the slightest. It amazes me how easy it is sometimes to go back into my old cycles of self-hatred and worry and fear, how mental questions like "how many sleeping pills do we have in the bathroom right now?" still pop up when I feel like I'm about to hit a wall (although they don't stick around for more than a second, as opposed to days on end). I mean, for crying out loud, what am I, 17 again? But I did elbow my way out of it, with the help of Kristi, and a few coworkers who said, "Look, this is exactly the same story we've been hearing every six months since we got here," which is most certainly true. Putting up a sign at my desk that read, "WELCOME TO THE RUMOR MILL! PANIC BREWED WHILE YOU WAIT!" helped, too. It's just that I got fired from four jobs in two years before ending up at Verizon, and it's Verizon that's blocking my thoughts that I'm unemployable and useless. Drop kick that, and then what?
I'm a lot better today, though. Wish I could say the same about Nik, who hacked his way through the night with a lovely little case of the croup. (He was still the most chipper creature in the house this morning, though. Don't know how he does it.) He's at Margie's right now, although he's still a little cloggy; as he said when I asked him how he was, "Muffle Wuffle NOSE."
Today I need to start preparations for dinner on Sunday, which will be attended by Col, Trey, Jimmy, Smitty, Cheech, Marci (coworker, not sis-in-law), and Kristi and me, and the kids; Kristi's parents, wisely, have opted to hide in a nice safe restaurant in an undisclosed location until the affected area is secured. The menu: chicken with Riesling (yes, the one on the cover of this month's Food and Wine), fettucine, roasted green beans with garlic, and zabaglione. Boy, I hope this doesn't suck.
And confidential to cryptic crossword fans, and you know who you are: Latest Games World of Puzzles is out, with a snootload of Patrick Berry cryptics in it. You know you want it. (No, nothing of mine this time. Sigh...)
