minalisms


    Posts Tagged ‘work’

    Husbandry

    Wednesday, November 11th, 2009

    To mark Veterans Day, my husband’s company gave its employees the day off.

    I still had to go to work, even though my company has promised to grant me and other workerbees a floating holiday to use by year’s end. We’ll see about that.

    Anyway, this situation made for a very jealous Minal this morning, as I dragged ass to clothe and groom myself while Ben stayed in bed all cozy and warm.

    He did get up to help me pack my lunch — a very husbandly nicety.

    He was so husbandly, in fact, that as I pulled out of the garage and onto our street, still grouchy, Ben was standing outside our front door, with a paper or magazine in one hand and a coffee mug (empty, because he doesn’t drink coffee) in another. He looked at me, grinned and raised the mug √† la Ward Cleaver.

    His hokeyness made me laugh so loud through my open window I worried the entire cul-de-sac heard.

    “He’s totally the man for me,” I thought.

    Slow season

    Tuesday, November 10th, 2009

    This is about the time of year that I begin to experience burnout.

    The weather is colder and the days are shorter, and because of this I speed home after work on weekdays so I could salvage the few minutes of daylight that are left. But once home, the cats are in a frenzy to go out, which is not allowed when it’s dark because, well, would you enjoy searching for your sly black cat at night? So while the cats are revolting over lost play time — swatting at each other, hissing, meowing incessantly wherever I stand — I am losing my damn mind, thinking “Cat soup for dinner.”

    Yes, once the sky dims, my day and its potential come to an end. Motivation suffers. The minutes, hours and days blend together into one remarkably uneventful blob.

    To add to the problem: I am out of vacation days, and the holidays are still weeks away. Soon, work will slow down to an intolerable pace and I will be the lone ranger in the office while the other, smarter folks who hoarded their PTO throughout the year are enjoying time off and avoiding this very real burnout.

    Friday Funnies – 2

    Friday, October 30th, 2009

    I’ve changed the name of the Friday series because the first moniker was lame and caused me a great deal of annoyance when others inflected improperly when reading the title.

    So anyway…

    Top ten ways that you know you are suffering from job burnout:

    3. You’re so tired; you now answer the phone, “Hell.”

    2. You wake up to discover that your bed is on fire, but go back to sleep because you just don’t care.

    1. You think about how relaxing it would be if you were in jail right now.

    Purgatory

    Thursday, October 29th, 2009

    My brain turned into mush around 2 p.m. because I had the bright idea this morning to clean out my Inbox at work.

    So yes, it was one of those days.

    Determined, I managed to organize and purge three-fourths of the way through the mailbox (translation: about 900 e-mails) before my eyes rolled to the back of my head and my tongue stuck out the side of my mouth.

    People were staring at me. No joke.

    OK, joke.

    As a reward for my diligence, I allowed myself to consume a King-size Reese’s, two white-chocolate-and-macadamia-nut cookies and a pumpkin-spice latte. All of this even though I haven’t hit the fitness center in three weeks.

    I am chock-full of accomplishments today. And I think I’ll stop writing now.

    Creatures of habit?

    Tuesday, October 27th, 2009

    First, there’s my tendency to sleep until about 7:30 a.m. every work day, even though my alarm goes off at 6:50.

    Then, after dressing, there’s the check and re-check of the dark nooks within the master closet to make sure none of the cats snuck in to dance on the clothes.

    Then there’s the parting kiss that my husband never forgets to give.

    There’s also makeup application: a spot of creme blush and a shade of lipstick — which ends up being the same one out of 15.

    Then there’s the rush to get in my car by 8:05, except that it’s always closer to 8:15.

    Then I see the security guard dozed off again in the tower in the employee parking lot and think, “Life is unfair.”

    There’s, of course, the man at work who dumps canned tuna on a whole-wheat tortilla and eats it for lunch Every. Single. Day.

    There’s the blogging (lately, anyway).

    There’s definitely the slowing of time once the clock strikes 3 p.m. on a weekday.

    And then there’s Gizmo, sweet, cantankerous Gizmo, who waits and meows on the other side of the door as I unlock it upon my arrival home.

    From about 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. Monday through Friday, these are the markers of my life. These occurences orient me in a space-time sort of way; they provide context and, as a result, spur decisions. Yet, interestingly enough, those daily decisions are never the same.

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