She couldn't shake the image of seeing her Death. She went and wrote things down and stared at the page. A part of her couldn't read and another part understood what could be seen as the ramblings of a mad woman. She took a deep breath, and allowed the words to settle in front of her. She wanted to tell him about what she experienced. Instead, she just went to sleep and had a dreamless sleep, the last vestiges of worry faded with each second.
When she awoke, the pages were next to her. She dared not look at it and immediately went to get showered and dressed to run some weekend errands. She would be gone for a few hours and she figured she might as well make a start of the day. She went out and picked up some food for the dog and some breakfast. When she came back into her apartment, she was faced by her cousin, who asked her about what had happened.
It was a lot to soak in and it was going to take a lot more to explain without sounding crazy. She was very quiet, and her cousin hugged her, pulled her close, and it was a comfort. It felt good. She suddenly felt tears in her eyes and started to cry. "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, I didn't mean to hurt you," her cousin said gently.
"I thought you didn't love me anymore. That you had no room for me." was all that she could get out before going into a full bawl.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
another several days
Had passed since she last wrote anything. She was annoyed. She felt blocked. Another thing she started and hadn't finished. A quitter again. Again. Shit. She felt upset, disappointed. Work was getting busy, and she felt tension-filled. Unsure, that just made things even more weird and stressed her out. She tried to play it off and be cool, but she still felt unsure, taking direction from others was almost like understanding shorthand for the first time, and she was trying not to scream or sound stupid. It was a lot to take in.
Then there was home. More madness. Her hair and skin were feeling it. She decided to pull out a journal and write the following:
"I am a fucking guest that helps pay the rent. That is what I am. What I've allowed myself to become. Because I have obviously nothing to offer. Am lazy and superficial. Walked down the street and found I have no home. No one to come home to. Don't even have a pet. Must pack my shit and move on. There's nothing for me here. I have been as supportive as I could be and have stood to the side and kept on a brave face as time passes me.
I cannot relate to people. People bore and puzzle me. They don't hold any excitement. There are no promises made or kept. No one expects to follow through. I am cursed with loneliness and without the social ease that others have. I am lost. A ship without a rudder."
She turned a page, suddenly inspired to write a list:
"Tomorrow," she continued, "plastic bins. Hold what's in drawers. Start saving to start storing. Remove books and store."
She didn't think for a second why she had a diverted thought. There was a tougher thing to write, and that was probably why.
She turned the page, sighed, and the rest came flowing out:
"I thought if I died would it matter. To most, no. To whomever I'm a floating memory or image. I beg for punishment or resolution and all I find is indifference, scorn or boredom. Tediousness magnified. They say I can't see a project to the end and they're right. I'm simply not as good and disciplined as the others.
I am a failure.
An utter complete failure.
And it doesn't matter if I try or have faith.
It's unimportant.
I'm unimportant.
The world will go on.
With or without me. It will still spin to oblivion."
She thought of her walk in the middle of the night, feeling sorry for herself, letting the anger dispel from her. Each block brought her closer to quiet. To isolation. Less people on the street. For once she did not care.
As she walked, the air got cooler and cooler. She had been hoping it wouldn't, as she had wanted to stay out as late as she could. She wondered if she heard a footstep but would not turn around. She would continue forward, face her fears, she thought. As she approached a block, it looked like it was a step back in time. The block was a private block, and it looked like another time. She took a gasp, and realized she was alone. Or was she. She felt someone watching. She looked around, nothing. A feeling of something. Unfamiliar. Strange. Suddenly, a cab appeared, coming down the block. She flagged it down, with a sigh. She got in and the cab made a U turn and took off with her in it. She settled back in her seat when the cab passed the street she had crossed before coming to this part of the quiet neighborhood. It was a man, in a greyish hood, undescript, as if looking, peering down the block where she was, as if he could see that far, and just realizing that she was gone, no longer there. He seemed to pause as he crossed the street, almost as if, there's no point going down that block. She got a feeling that he was looking for her. She wondered, was he Death? Her death? Her oblivion?
She wrote in her notepad:
"Death followed me. I did not embrace it. As with all things, I jumped in a cab and went home. There is an emptiness. Silence. Beauty. Decay. Nothing lasts. Nothing stays the same. People move on, grow old and die. That is it. Most don't lead an extraordinary life."
She thought about her dream of acting. She paused, and wrote: "But oh, to live an extraordinary life. To be inspired by beauty, youth, anything would be exciting and lovely. I know that there is nothing but wasting away. To kiss what is essentially dying flesh and not be revolted is simply...maybe that's the point of vampire films. To be dead yet live forever. To not fear death because it already came and yet still the body is animated, still dreams, still desires. Endless death. What is the point of that? Never having rotting flesh or the feeling of decay? The stench of death? How do vampires smell? Like old flowers? I don't know. I rage yet there's nothing to rage at. An empty shell struggling to find some filling.
The holidays approach and I'm nowhere closer to finding inner peace and personal satisfaction. I still feel at war. Creativeness dulled. All I get is the faint smell of vinegar. Did some spill? Time, perhaps, to let go of some furniture."
She shivered slightly. Before she knew it, she was home, paid the cab driver, thanked him, and walked briskly to her front door. She was home. Or at least, what felt safe and familiar. She sighed, and once in the apartment, locked the door behind her, got out of her clothes and climbed into bed, falling asleep within minutes.
Then there was home. More madness. Her hair and skin were feeling it. She decided to pull out a journal and write the following:
"I am a fucking guest that helps pay the rent. That is what I am. What I've allowed myself to become. Because I have obviously nothing to offer. Am lazy and superficial. Walked down the street and found I have no home. No one to come home to. Don't even have a pet. Must pack my shit and move on. There's nothing for me here. I have been as supportive as I could be and have stood to the side and kept on a brave face as time passes me.
I cannot relate to people. People bore and puzzle me. They don't hold any excitement. There are no promises made or kept. No one expects to follow through. I am cursed with loneliness and without the social ease that others have. I am lost. A ship without a rudder."
She turned a page, suddenly inspired to write a list:
"Tomorrow," she continued, "plastic bins. Hold what's in drawers. Start saving to start storing. Remove books and store."
She didn't think for a second why she had a diverted thought. There was a tougher thing to write, and that was probably why.
She turned the page, sighed, and the rest came flowing out:
"I thought if I died would it matter. To most, no. To whomever I'm a floating memory or image. I beg for punishment or resolution and all I find is indifference, scorn or boredom. Tediousness magnified. They say I can't see a project to the end and they're right. I'm simply not as good and disciplined as the others.
I am a failure.
An utter complete failure.
And it doesn't matter if I try or have faith.
It's unimportant.
I'm unimportant.
The world will go on.
With or without me. It will still spin to oblivion."
She thought of her walk in the middle of the night, feeling sorry for herself, letting the anger dispel from her. Each block brought her closer to quiet. To isolation. Less people on the street. For once she did not care.
As she walked, the air got cooler and cooler. She had been hoping it wouldn't, as she had wanted to stay out as late as she could. She wondered if she heard a footstep but would not turn around. She would continue forward, face her fears, she thought. As she approached a block, it looked like it was a step back in time. The block was a private block, and it looked like another time. She took a gasp, and realized she was alone. Or was she. She felt someone watching. She looked around, nothing. A feeling of something. Unfamiliar. Strange. Suddenly, a cab appeared, coming down the block. She flagged it down, with a sigh. She got in and the cab made a U turn and took off with her in it. She settled back in her seat when the cab passed the street she had crossed before coming to this part of the quiet neighborhood. It was a man, in a greyish hood, undescript, as if looking, peering down the block where she was, as if he could see that far, and just realizing that she was gone, no longer there. He seemed to pause as he crossed the street, almost as if, there's no point going down that block. She got a feeling that he was looking for her. She wondered, was he Death? Her death? Her oblivion?
She wrote in her notepad:
"Death followed me. I did not embrace it. As with all things, I jumped in a cab and went home. There is an emptiness. Silence. Beauty. Decay. Nothing lasts. Nothing stays the same. People move on, grow old and die. That is it. Most don't lead an extraordinary life."
She thought about her dream of acting. She paused, and wrote: "But oh, to live an extraordinary life. To be inspired by beauty, youth, anything would be exciting and lovely. I know that there is nothing but wasting away. To kiss what is essentially dying flesh and not be revolted is simply...maybe that's the point of vampire films. To be dead yet live forever. To not fear death because it already came and yet still the body is animated, still dreams, still desires. Endless death. What is the point of that? Never having rotting flesh or the feeling of decay? The stench of death? How do vampires smell? Like old flowers? I don't know. I rage yet there's nothing to rage at. An empty shell struggling to find some filling.
The holidays approach and I'm nowhere closer to finding inner peace and personal satisfaction. I still feel at war. Creativeness dulled. All I get is the faint smell of vinegar. Did some spill? Time, perhaps, to let go of some furniture."
She shivered slightly. Before she knew it, she was home, paid the cab driver, thanked him, and walked briskly to her front door. She was home. Or at least, what felt safe and familiar. She sighed, and once in the apartment, locked the door behind her, got out of her clothes and climbed into bed, falling asleep within minutes.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Day 11
Work was the usual chaos. As she tried to regain her sense of what was going on around her and get a sense of the goings-on, people zoomed by her and knew what they needed to do and did what they needed to do to get things done. She was in new territory, didn't know half of what she needed to know and tried to just keep her head above water.
"Here is some of what you may find useful," she was told, with different pieces tossed at her. She knew better than to panic. She would figure her way, ask questions, and ask for sit-down time with each person, to get an idea to each piece of the puzzle and how it fit. She wondered how she would retain it all, but if she could handle her old job, that nobody wanted or could handle apparently as well she could, she could handle a promotion and just keep moving up. She was tired of going in circles and do-overs at places, it was time to move forward and not be afraid of success.
"Here is some of what you may find useful," she was told, with different pieces tossed at her. She knew better than to panic. She would figure her way, ask questions, and ask for sit-down time with each person, to get an idea to each piece of the puzzle and how it fit. She wondered how she would retain it all, but if she could handle her old job, that nobody wanted or could handle apparently as well she could, she could handle a promotion and just keep moving up. She was tired of going in circles and do-overs at places, it was time to move forward and not be afraid of success.
Day 10
A performance appraisal reminder sent department wide with a deadline date highlighted, arrived in her email inbox. This was the prime opportunity to inquire about getting more detailed information about her promotion once and for all. Would she have to fill out this appraisal since she just got promoted? Perfect scenario to ask, she thought. She wrote a quick inquiry to her seemingly former supervisor and added that they needed to talk.
The reply came stating agreement on talking. Within ten minutes she was in her former boss' office, behind closed doors, and the talk began. "I believe I already said everything about this last time," former boss said, with a smile playing on their lips. She merely nodded, looking her in the eye. "What is it you want to know? asked the former boss.
"Specifics. I have no enddate, no numbers, no figures, just a generalized statement. A lot of words but really no firm details....about anything. I need more than that if I'm being asked to make a decision and give a specific answer about whether I want this promotion. I have no details to work with."
The boss answered, "Everything will take some time to process. Your position up to this point, the new one, didn't exist before, so that has to be created, which has to go and be approved by others. It IS a promotion, and the determination on the salary and what level is something that is assessed." "How long will it be? Two weeks, a month? January?" she asked, trying to keep the pushiness out of her voice.
All she got was a headshake, and the ex-boss peering at their computer screen, to check some site to see if any indicator had shown up. "I've been checking every day, once a day, except today," the ex-boss said, and then they turned to face her. "Until I get the information, there's not much else to say." The ex-boss went on, "I know you worked hard, without complaint."
"Do I still have to fill out that performance appraisal? I mean, as what? I'm no longer in the old position, according to what we've talked about." "Yes, you do have to fill it out, and fill it as if you were in the old position, you have to detail what you did there, which I know was a lot, you helping me and all." the ex-boss admitted.
"And...does this mean I lose out on the potential increase or bonus I would've gotten?" she asked. "I could see what I could do...having the bonus, you would be considered because you have worked very hard and done a lot. You of several people here would deserve a bonus."
She explained, "I'm working on the same salary I made in the prior position. I do all the work asked of me, the work is not the issue. Even if this is a trial run, will I get retroactive pay?" The ex-boss nodded slightly, "We would have to figure that out, it may not be all that is due you,there is a cut-off date."
Fighting incredulousness, she said, "I'm just trying to get information, and it's just all very general, there's nothing for me to hold on to, and it's a lot of maybes I hear." Her ex-boss looked her in the eye and said that they would be fair, and that she would be taken care of.
This only worried her further. Nothing in writing, a verbal conversation with a lot of non-specifics like dates, numbers, a timeline that actuallly had an end date, these things were not forthcoming and she wondered what the hell she had to trust on. The department was notorious for cutting people and leading them on. One had been working there two years with very little to show for it except being just one of the work mules for her ex-boss and she had just extricated herself from becoming yet another mule. Or did she? What if it was all just simply bullshit to buy time and fuck her over? Who was to say they would drag this until the next quarter or try to blackball her or try to underpay her a decent salary?
The ex-boss seemed to read her thoughts, "Listen, I will be fair and I take care of you. It will all work out." For who? The department or her? "I have concerns, and this is all very...nebulous, I have to say it's not concrete, so I worry." she answered. She left the office with very little information. It was nice to have a conversation but essentially there was nothing relevant detail wise for her to hold on to. No guarantees, nothing in writing left her one nervous nelly.
She told herself to ignore the gnawing feeling in her stomach that she was being delayed and played. The only other option was to quit and move on or find another job elsewhere and move on altogether. The frustrating thought that her time and talent and hard work ethic was being wasted on these fuckers crept into her mind. She brushed it away. Maybe she was being too negative. Maybe...just maybe, her ex-boss would surprise her in a positive way. Or maybe not. For now she had a job, lowpaying, but hers for now.
She would continue this time to learn her new job, and look to getting the proactive pay (they had to find a way to creatively rename it if they couldn't give her all her proactive pay due her but still pay her) and the increase she would have gotten at her prior position somehow reflected in addition to her promotion increase in pay. Somehow, she thought, it would all turn out alright. Somehow. She had to believe. So far, her employer was asking to have some faith.
OK. Let's see.
The reply came stating agreement on talking. Within ten minutes she was in her former boss' office, behind closed doors, and the talk began. "I believe I already said everything about this last time," former boss said, with a smile playing on their lips. She merely nodded, looking her in the eye. "What is it you want to know? asked the former boss.
"Specifics. I have no enddate, no numbers, no figures, just a generalized statement. A lot of words but really no firm details....about anything. I need more than that if I'm being asked to make a decision and give a specific answer about whether I want this promotion. I have no details to work with."
The boss answered, "Everything will take some time to process. Your position up to this point, the new one, didn't exist before, so that has to be created, which has to go and be approved by others. It IS a promotion, and the determination on the salary and what level is something that is assessed." "How long will it be? Two weeks, a month? January?" she asked, trying to keep the pushiness out of her voice.
All she got was a headshake, and the ex-boss peering at their computer screen, to check some site to see if any indicator had shown up. "I've been checking every day, once a day, except today," the ex-boss said, and then they turned to face her. "Until I get the information, there's not much else to say." The ex-boss went on, "I know you worked hard, without complaint."
"Do I still have to fill out that performance appraisal? I mean, as what? I'm no longer in the old position, according to what we've talked about." "Yes, you do have to fill it out, and fill it as if you were in the old position, you have to detail what you did there, which I know was a lot, you helping me and all." the ex-boss admitted.
"And...does this mean I lose out on the potential increase or bonus I would've gotten?" she asked. "I could see what I could do...having the bonus, you would be considered because you have worked very hard and done a lot. You of several people here would deserve a bonus."
She explained, "I'm working on the same salary I made in the prior position. I do all the work asked of me, the work is not the issue. Even if this is a trial run, will I get retroactive pay?" The ex-boss nodded slightly, "We would have to figure that out, it may not be all that is due you,there is a cut-off date."
Fighting incredulousness, she said, "I'm just trying to get information, and it's just all very general, there's nothing for me to hold on to, and it's a lot of maybes I hear." Her ex-boss looked her in the eye and said that they would be fair, and that she would be taken care of.
This only worried her further. Nothing in writing, a verbal conversation with a lot of non-specifics like dates, numbers, a timeline that actuallly had an end date, these things were not forthcoming and she wondered what the hell she had to trust on. The department was notorious for cutting people and leading them on. One had been working there two years with very little to show for it except being just one of the work mules for her ex-boss and she had just extricated herself from becoming yet another mule. Or did she? What if it was all just simply bullshit to buy time and fuck her over? Who was to say they would drag this until the next quarter or try to blackball her or try to underpay her a decent salary?
The ex-boss seemed to read her thoughts, "Listen, I will be fair and I take care of you. It will all work out." For who? The department or her? "I have concerns, and this is all very...nebulous, I have to say it's not concrete, so I worry." she answered. She left the office with very little information. It was nice to have a conversation but essentially there was nothing relevant detail wise for her to hold on to. No guarantees, nothing in writing left her one nervous nelly.
She told herself to ignore the gnawing feeling in her stomach that she was being delayed and played. The only other option was to quit and move on or find another job elsewhere and move on altogether. The frustrating thought that her time and talent and hard work ethic was being wasted on these fuckers crept into her mind. She brushed it away. Maybe she was being too negative. Maybe...just maybe, her ex-boss would surprise her in a positive way. Or maybe not. For now she had a job, lowpaying, but hers for now.
She would continue this time to learn her new job, and look to getting the proactive pay (they had to find a way to creatively rename it if they couldn't give her all her proactive pay due her but still pay her) and the increase she would have gotten at her prior position somehow reflected in addition to her promotion increase in pay. Somehow, she thought, it would all turn out alright. Somehow. She had to believe. So far, her employer was asking to have some faith.
OK. Let's see.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Day 9
When she walked into work, she knew she wouldn't see a reply email to her inquiry. But she had made her stance clear, and if there were any questions, the invitation to meet to talk should have sealed the deal. But a part of her knew that her boss would not be warm to the invitation or inquiry. As she sat at her new desk, her boss happened to come in to the office, avoided her eyes and walked to the cubicle right next to her and went to fiddle with a phone installation she didn't have equipment to fix it with.
She had to call her name three times and indicate she was asking about a question on how to address another employee's time out, in order for her boss to say, "oh," turn around and face her to answer her question. Once the question was answered, her boss turned, literally, her back to her and kept fiddling with the phone.
As soon as her boss saw she was busy with a client and distracted, the boss made a dash out the door, never to return. The next day, her boss came to talk shop with her new boss' associate, then took off again. She made a point of saying hello, and went about her business. She would see her at her offices tomorrow, as she would be covering for her old post, as her boss was supposedly looking for a new replacement. She would bide her time, let her boss stew and wonder.
After she got her things together and took care of some work, she went about planning on how to approach her soon to be former boss on what her new salary would be. She approached someone as a mentor to see what feedback she could get on what to say, what to expect when she approached her boss.
The mentor gave her some very good advice, to simply touch on whether her soon to be ex boss had seen her email, and inquire about the salary issue. The mentor stated to observe the response, and then based on the answer, or lack of one, simply send a follow-up email stating "per our conversation today, in order to make a fully informed decision, I would need the following information to complete the picture," or something to that effect.
She nodded, relieved, as she relayed her reservations on how her boss would treat her, and noted how others didn't fare as well despite being well thought of in the department. The mentor simply focused her thoughts on what was important, what she was concerned about, the lack of information such as the salary and what her job description, title and level would be. After discussing a few minutes more, she got a better picture from her mentor what she should look at, what should be addressed, and what could be negotiated or be brought up as negotiation points when the time comes.
It was a revealing and informative conversation. Relieved and armed with a plan, she thanked her mentor and moved on, her mind clear and focused. The only thing that could put a slight pause on her getting her agenda done would be if her boss didn't show up the next day when she would be covering her old desk for the day. She decided, enough of that, and she would think about it tomorrow. Tonight it was to go to the gym, get a good workout, eat dinner, and have a good rest to prepare for tomorrow's day.
She had to call her name three times and indicate she was asking about a question on how to address another employee's time out, in order for her boss to say, "oh," turn around and face her to answer her question. Once the question was answered, her boss turned, literally, her back to her and kept fiddling with the phone.
As soon as her boss saw she was busy with a client and distracted, the boss made a dash out the door, never to return. The next day, her boss came to talk shop with her new boss' associate, then took off again. She made a point of saying hello, and went about her business. She would see her at her offices tomorrow, as she would be covering for her old post, as her boss was supposedly looking for a new replacement. She would bide her time, let her boss stew and wonder.
After she got her things together and took care of some work, she went about planning on how to approach her soon to be former boss on what her new salary would be. She approached someone as a mentor to see what feedback she could get on what to say, what to expect when she approached her boss.
The mentor gave her some very good advice, to simply touch on whether her soon to be ex boss had seen her email, and inquire about the salary issue. The mentor stated to observe the response, and then based on the answer, or lack of one, simply send a follow-up email stating "per our conversation today, in order to make a fully informed decision, I would need the following information to complete the picture," or something to that effect.
She nodded, relieved, as she relayed her reservations on how her boss would treat her, and noted how others didn't fare as well despite being well thought of in the department. The mentor simply focused her thoughts on what was important, what she was concerned about, the lack of information such as the salary and what her job description, title and level would be. After discussing a few minutes more, she got a better picture from her mentor what she should look at, what should be addressed, and what could be negotiated or be brought up as negotiation points when the time comes.
It was a revealing and informative conversation. Relieved and armed with a plan, she thanked her mentor and moved on, her mind clear and focused. The only thing that could put a slight pause on her getting her agenda done would be if her boss didn't show up the next day when she would be covering her old desk for the day. She decided, enough of that, and she would think about it tomorrow. Tonight it was to go to the gym, get a good workout, eat dinner, and have a good rest to prepare for tomorrow's day.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Day 8
She thought of when she went in to work and got her promotion. It wasn't without chasing her former boss over it, who had been approached by her soon to be new boss a month before -- in an email. Then a follow-up email took place and she found herself being asked by the secretary whether she 'had heard anything' or had "been approached" by her boss. She admitted she had not, and was then advised emails had gone unanswered by her boss. This surprised her and at the same time, brought a frown to her face and some concern. Would her boss really smile in her face, say she was a good worker, and wouldn't stand in the way if some new promotion came along, only to show otherwise with passive aggressive action?
Would her boss truly veto a pass for her to move up and onward? If so, what was her boss willing to counter with? She waited a week to hear anything, and the secretary came to her again and said her boss had not heard anything, and that she may have to confront her boss about her interest in the new gig.
She went to speak to her boss, and asked for some time to talk about a potential opportunity with the department, only to be blown off for yet another week with no response. The supervisor would answer any other question but nothing relating to her email inquiry. She then decided it was time to take things into her own hands, and asked for five minutes to speak with her boss. She told her boss about being approached with a new opportunity, and what did the boss think or want to do? She was basically opening the door, giving her boss first dibs to come up with an offer, or at least something to make her think twice about considering taking on this new position.
Her boss shrugged her shoulders and stated she had nothing to give her, and was not expected to hire anybody. She was again a bit surprised and a little sad, because she had figured she would get a story but she was still hoping that her boss would tell the truth or at least come with a counter. Her boss stated if this was something she wanted to do, then that's it.
She stood expectantly, waiting for her boss to come with something, but it was clear her boss wasn't going to blink today. She nodded, and stated it was something she would like to consider going to, but just wanted to run it by her to get her thoughts as she had worked closely with her for the past year and a half.
Her boss stated she would make some inquiries and 'start the process'. They left it at that, and she went back to her desk, with her "thank you" to her boss still hanging in the air as she went back to her desk. It seemed too simple, too adult, too clean, too matter of fact. But she had to think for herself and look out for herself. She had left the door open to her boss and gave her boss the opportunity to come up with even a "let's touch base on Monday, I have to think about this," ...just...SOMETHING, to show that she didn't want to lose her on her team, and that she really was going to think about it.
Instead, her boss seemed resigned. Or simply didn't believe it and thought it would blow over.
Her boss came to her on a Friday and advised that she was heading on vacation, but just wanted to break the news that the other department did indeed want to offer her a position working with a new boss -- she gave the name -- and if she was still interested? Yes, she stated simply. Her boss just looked her in the face as if seeing her for the first time. "Ok, we'll start the process and put up the notice for your old spot when I get back. On Monday, you report to your new department," she stated, and that was the end of the conversation.
Again, it seemed cut and dry, simple, simply done. She felt she could breathe a sigh of relief. It was really happening, she thought, with little to no drama. She went home that day excited and a bit scared. But it was a good feeling. She was moving forward. She felt also a little sad, because she wondered why her old boss didn't come with anything to offer.
Would her boss truly veto a pass for her to move up and onward? If so, what was her boss willing to counter with? She waited a week to hear anything, and the secretary came to her again and said her boss had not heard anything, and that she may have to confront her boss about her interest in the new gig.
She went to speak to her boss, and asked for some time to talk about a potential opportunity with the department, only to be blown off for yet another week with no response. The supervisor would answer any other question but nothing relating to her email inquiry. She then decided it was time to take things into her own hands, and asked for five minutes to speak with her boss. She told her boss about being approached with a new opportunity, and what did the boss think or want to do? She was basically opening the door, giving her boss first dibs to come up with an offer, or at least something to make her think twice about considering taking on this new position.
Her boss shrugged her shoulders and stated she had nothing to give her, and was not expected to hire anybody. She was again a bit surprised and a little sad, because she had figured she would get a story but she was still hoping that her boss would tell the truth or at least come with a counter. Her boss stated if this was something she wanted to do, then that's it.
She stood expectantly, waiting for her boss to come with something, but it was clear her boss wasn't going to blink today. She nodded, and stated it was something she would like to consider going to, but just wanted to run it by her to get her thoughts as she had worked closely with her for the past year and a half.
Her boss stated she would make some inquiries and 'start the process'. They left it at that, and she went back to her desk, with her "thank you" to her boss still hanging in the air as she went back to her desk. It seemed too simple, too adult, too clean, too matter of fact. But she had to think for herself and look out for herself. She had left the door open to her boss and gave her boss the opportunity to come up with even a "let's touch base on Monday, I have to think about this," ...just...SOMETHING, to show that she didn't want to lose her on her team, and that she really was going to think about it.
Instead, her boss seemed resigned. Or simply didn't believe it and thought it would blow over.
Her boss came to her on a Friday and advised that she was heading on vacation, but just wanted to break the news that the other department did indeed want to offer her a position working with a new boss -- she gave the name -- and if she was still interested? Yes, she stated simply. Her boss just looked her in the face as if seeing her for the first time. "Ok, we'll start the process and put up the notice for your old spot when I get back. On Monday, you report to your new department," she stated, and that was the end of the conversation.
Again, it seemed cut and dry, simple, simply done. She felt she could breathe a sigh of relief. It was really happening, she thought, with little to no drama. She went home that day excited and a bit scared. But it was a good feeling. She was moving forward. She felt also a little sad, because she wondered why her old boss didn't come with anything to offer.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Day 7
Thoughts lead back to her home situation. She was currently paying rent for a room in an apartment she was in with her aunt and she was helping her cousin rent a new place in turn downtown. Without her help financially with the place with her aunt, her cousin would not have been able to leave with peace of mind to rent the new place. While her cousin insisted the new place was theirs to share, she didn't really push to put any of her personality or things there beyond some clothing and toiletries, because she believed her cousin really needed to have a place of her and truly experience that so she could understand what it meant to be on her own.
She had been on her own for so long, she appreciated having use of the toilet and having a space to call one's own, and only felt it was a fitting gift to not intrude too much into her cousin's new place. Her cousin would be nearby, but if there were any issues, she could easily get in a cab or on the train and be there in minutes to check in on her or even stay overnight if her cousin was having a bad night. Her cousin had multiple health issues, but was fairly independent, just needed that extra insurance in case her cousin needed anything.
She was proud of her cousin, who had also just started going back to school after a decades long absence. She could see the independence growing in her cousin, and she was very proud and happy for her. She knew her cousin needed this and deserved it. Her hope was the co-dependence issues would lighten considerably once her cousin got a good taste of going back to school and having her own place, that it would snap her back to her true reality of where she should have been all along and get out there in the world, socialize, build relationships, and live her life without being at the mercy of family members who used guilt and obligation to control her cousin.
When she would come home, her dog would be in her aunt's room, so she would have no choice but to call the dog, who by now was old and couldn't jump up or down from furniture easily. The dog had to be lifted or carried. One time she came home and called out to the dog and didn't hear anything. Her aunt was in the kitchen, bustling about. She saw the dog staring at her from her aunt's open bedroom door. The dog was on the bed but could not climb down. She had the dog's coat in her hand, and put it on the dog and picked the dog up and put her down on the floor, and walked out.
Her aunt was surprised to see her in the room and waited for her to leave with the dog. Once her cousin came home, her aunt complained about being surprised about seeing anyone in her room.
When she got home from walking the dog and picking up dog supplies like wee wee pads and snacks, she was immediately greeted by her cousin, who informed her that going into the aunt's room was a no-no, and that she had essentially 'frightened' the poor aunt, who had emphasized to the cousin about almost having a heart attack.
She was unsure why her cousin would even bother stating anything about this, considering that her cousin knew how dramatic her aunt could be. The aunt made it sound like she had simply sashayed in there and made it her home and hung out with the dog, when everything was done under a minute - she hadn't even secured the dog's coat with the velcro, simply put it on and picked the dog up and put down in one fell swoop.
She just stood still, as she was still in the process of taking her coat off when her cousin relayed the story. And she could only sigh and reply, "Well, I had made noise coming in to the house, had even made a noise for the dog to come to me and she hadn't, so I followed to see where she was, heard your mom in the kitchen, and went into the room because the dog was staring at me from the bed which is JUST inside the bedroom door."
"Did you have to put her coat on? You could have just grabbed her and gotten out of the room," her cousin said. So it was her fault. Again. How stupid of her to look for her dog and go take her for a fucking walk. Everything was a drama as far as the aunt was concerned, who had no job, no man and no life, so would basically make it her business to stir up everybody else who actually had lives and things to do. How easily she could make her cousin, an otherwise sane and smart grown woman, a fucking puppet who would become transformed into an anxious furtive unrecognizable creature who cowered in the darkness and would allow her mother to bully her until she finally would snap and let unleash her anger which would give her a break a couple of days from the annoying aunt but never did solve the problem, it would just repeat, endlessly, as it had been this way for years.
This is why she found it so vitally important that her cousin went back to school and got a place she could call her own. She had to reinforce to her long-suffering that she did not need to put up with familial abuse and did not have to cater to anyone's ignorance, loneliness or fear. If her cousin's mother got too stupid, the cousin could escape, and decide whether or not to pick up the phone when her mother would call (and you could bet she would if she didn't hear or see anything or her in an hour). Her cousin disliked her mother's behavior but she also was used to it, and knew this was the mother's way of showing care.
Meanwhile, this left her as the odd one out, and the cousin would act as the buffer when the aunt was displeased about something and had something to say. The aunt had long worn out her welcome as far as she was concerned, but was continuing to help pay her rent in order to continue having a convenient spot near her work place. However, she didn't have much freedom, could not invite people over, and was not allowed to linger in the living room or kitchen. The kitchen was an issue, as that was a communal space, but to the aunt this did not matter. The aunt was not the best housekeeper in the world, but she could live with peanut butter smears on the knives as she made them.
Once in a while, she would take all the utensils, and put them in a tub of hot water and bleach and clean them thoroughly and put them back in the rack once she was done washing them. Her aunt would then complain that someone touched the utensils, never adding a thanks for cleaning them. She had to buy her own pots, pans and knives to cook with because her aunt was particular about anyone using her things, even though her aunt's stuff was usually notoriously spotted or had specks of hardened food on them, and she found herself re-cleaning her aunt's stuff when she had to use them. She would leave them spotless but the aunt would still find something to complain about. She would clean off the stove, clean out the sink, but god help her if she left something wrapped in a plastic in the refrigerator, as the aunt found that sloppy!
Yet looking inside the fridge, it cried out for a good bleaching and cleaning from long ago spills and just generally dust that got in from the opening and closing of the door. The aunt would ignore that, and continue to bitch and moan about anyone else using any space she considered hers yet her aunt could barely scrape the 1/3 of the rent she was required to pay up to recently, when her cousin finally moved out and reminded the aunt that now the aunt would have to start paying 1/2 the rent, which upset the aunt greatly -- the aunt would have to cut down her spending sprees at garden places and 99 cent stores and ordering through clothing and wig catalogs.
Meanwhile, despite paying half the rent and hardly home because she worked full-time, she would clean the shared communal space of the bathroom, which the aunt basically neglected even more than the kitchen. She and her cousin would take turns cleaning the bathtub, and she would clean the toilet and sink and rid it of hair, toothpast gobs, and other stains. She would run a quick duster on the floor to pick up all the stray hairs that would collect into mounds if you let it, because the aunt didn't "see" this collection and would just use the bathroom and keep it moving yet would bitch if the toilet paper ran out and hide a roll in her room to punish people in the house for "going through" the toilet paper so quickly. She would pick up two rolls for situations like this and re-stock the bathroom as well as keep an extra roll in her room for whenever her aunt would decide to get stupid and ignore the theatrics.
She would rather laugh and keep it moving, but this annoyed her aunt. Her aunt felt it was disrespectful to laugh, and took it as a challenge to her authority. Of course she wanted to commit the aunt but her cousin would not hear of it. Her cousin's guilt would crush her and her cousin preferred to play martyr than to be practical and realize abuse is abuse whether it's a family member or a stranger doing it and let her aunt run the show.
She found herself getting angry with these thoughts. Eventually a decision would have to be made and only her cousin had the key to stop the bullshit once and for all. She reminded herself that her cousin was getting to see what she had been missing all these years, and she wanted to give her cousin the chance to relax and breathe, as her cousin had given her, and then to see where the chips would fall once school was done. Her cousin would have to decide what she wanted to do with her life, and if that meant continuing to care for her mother, there was nothing she could say or do about it. But she would leave, her obligation done. She gave her cousin the chance to figure things out, and that was the biggest show of love she could give her cousin. If her cousin wanted to go back to the way things used to be, that was her business and her right but SHE would extract herself from the equation and move on. Let someone else have the headache and heartache, she would be free.
She had been on her own for so long, she appreciated having use of the toilet and having a space to call one's own, and only felt it was a fitting gift to not intrude too much into her cousin's new place. Her cousin would be nearby, but if there were any issues, she could easily get in a cab or on the train and be there in minutes to check in on her or even stay overnight if her cousin was having a bad night. Her cousin had multiple health issues, but was fairly independent, just needed that extra insurance in case her cousin needed anything.
She was proud of her cousin, who had also just started going back to school after a decades long absence. She could see the independence growing in her cousin, and she was very proud and happy for her. She knew her cousin needed this and deserved it. Her hope was the co-dependence issues would lighten considerably once her cousin got a good taste of going back to school and having her own place, that it would snap her back to her true reality of where she should have been all along and get out there in the world, socialize, build relationships, and live her life without being at the mercy of family members who used guilt and obligation to control her cousin.
When she would come home, her dog would be in her aunt's room, so she would have no choice but to call the dog, who by now was old and couldn't jump up or down from furniture easily. The dog had to be lifted or carried. One time she came home and called out to the dog and didn't hear anything. Her aunt was in the kitchen, bustling about. She saw the dog staring at her from her aunt's open bedroom door. The dog was on the bed but could not climb down. She had the dog's coat in her hand, and put it on the dog and picked the dog up and put her down on the floor, and walked out.
Her aunt was surprised to see her in the room and waited for her to leave with the dog. Once her cousin came home, her aunt complained about being surprised about seeing anyone in her room.
When she got home from walking the dog and picking up dog supplies like wee wee pads and snacks, she was immediately greeted by her cousin, who informed her that going into the aunt's room was a no-no, and that she had essentially 'frightened' the poor aunt, who had emphasized to the cousin about almost having a heart attack.
She was unsure why her cousin would even bother stating anything about this, considering that her cousin knew how dramatic her aunt could be. The aunt made it sound like she had simply sashayed in there and made it her home and hung out with the dog, when everything was done under a minute - she hadn't even secured the dog's coat with the velcro, simply put it on and picked the dog up and put down in one fell swoop.
She just stood still, as she was still in the process of taking her coat off when her cousin relayed the story. And she could only sigh and reply, "Well, I had made noise coming in to the house, had even made a noise for the dog to come to me and she hadn't, so I followed to see where she was, heard your mom in the kitchen, and went into the room because the dog was staring at me from the bed which is JUST inside the bedroom door."
"Did you have to put her coat on? You could have just grabbed her and gotten out of the room," her cousin said. So it was her fault. Again. How stupid of her to look for her dog and go take her for a fucking walk. Everything was a drama as far as the aunt was concerned, who had no job, no man and no life, so would basically make it her business to stir up everybody else who actually had lives and things to do. How easily she could make her cousin, an otherwise sane and smart grown woman, a fucking puppet who would become transformed into an anxious furtive unrecognizable creature who cowered in the darkness and would allow her mother to bully her until she finally would snap and let unleash her anger which would give her a break a couple of days from the annoying aunt but never did solve the problem, it would just repeat, endlessly, as it had been this way for years.
This is why she found it so vitally important that her cousin went back to school and got a place she could call her own. She had to reinforce to her long-suffering that she did not need to put up with familial abuse and did not have to cater to anyone's ignorance, loneliness or fear. If her cousin's mother got too stupid, the cousin could escape, and decide whether or not to pick up the phone when her mother would call (and you could bet she would if she didn't hear or see anything or her in an hour). Her cousin disliked her mother's behavior but she also was used to it, and knew this was the mother's way of showing care.
Meanwhile, this left her as the odd one out, and the cousin would act as the buffer when the aunt was displeased about something and had something to say. The aunt had long worn out her welcome as far as she was concerned, but was continuing to help pay her rent in order to continue having a convenient spot near her work place. However, she didn't have much freedom, could not invite people over, and was not allowed to linger in the living room or kitchen. The kitchen was an issue, as that was a communal space, but to the aunt this did not matter. The aunt was not the best housekeeper in the world, but she could live with peanut butter smears on the knives as she made them.
Once in a while, she would take all the utensils, and put them in a tub of hot water and bleach and clean them thoroughly and put them back in the rack once she was done washing them. Her aunt would then complain that someone touched the utensils, never adding a thanks for cleaning them. She had to buy her own pots, pans and knives to cook with because her aunt was particular about anyone using her things, even though her aunt's stuff was usually notoriously spotted or had specks of hardened food on them, and she found herself re-cleaning her aunt's stuff when she had to use them. She would leave them spotless but the aunt would still find something to complain about. She would clean off the stove, clean out the sink, but god help her if she left something wrapped in a plastic in the refrigerator, as the aunt found that sloppy!
Yet looking inside the fridge, it cried out for a good bleaching and cleaning from long ago spills and just generally dust that got in from the opening and closing of the door. The aunt would ignore that, and continue to bitch and moan about anyone else using any space she considered hers yet her aunt could barely scrape the 1/3 of the rent she was required to pay up to recently, when her cousin finally moved out and reminded the aunt that now the aunt would have to start paying 1/2 the rent, which upset the aunt greatly -- the aunt would have to cut down her spending sprees at garden places and 99 cent stores and ordering through clothing and wig catalogs.
Meanwhile, despite paying half the rent and hardly home because she worked full-time, she would clean the shared communal space of the bathroom, which the aunt basically neglected even more than the kitchen. She and her cousin would take turns cleaning the bathtub, and she would clean the toilet and sink and rid it of hair, toothpast gobs, and other stains. She would run a quick duster on the floor to pick up all the stray hairs that would collect into mounds if you let it, because the aunt didn't "see" this collection and would just use the bathroom and keep it moving yet would bitch if the toilet paper ran out and hide a roll in her room to punish people in the house for "going through" the toilet paper so quickly. She would pick up two rolls for situations like this and re-stock the bathroom as well as keep an extra roll in her room for whenever her aunt would decide to get stupid and ignore the theatrics.
She would rather laugh and keep it moving, but this annoyed her aunt. Her aunt felt it was disrespectful to laugh, and took it as a challenge to her authority. Of course she wanted to commit the aunt but her cousin would not hear of it. Her cousin's guilt would crush her and her cousin preferred to play martyr than to be practical and realize abuse is abuse whether it's a family member or a stranger doing it and let her aunt run the show.
She found herself getting angry with these thoughts. Eventually a decision would have to be made and only her cousin had the key to stop the bullshit once and for all. She reminded herself that her cousin was getting to see what she had been missing all these years, and she wanted to give her cousin the chance to relax and breathe, as her cousin had given her, and then to see where the chips would fall once school was done. Her cousin would have to decide what she wanted to do with her life, and if that meant continuing to care for her mother, there was nothing she could say or do about it. But she would leave, her obligation done. She gave her cousin the chance to figure things out, and that was the biggest show of love she could give her cousin. If her cousin wanted to go back to the way things used to be, that was her business and her right but SHE would extract herself from the equation and move on. Let someone else have the headache and heartache, she would be free.
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