My situation at work is unstable, all due to this production manager psychopath, who knows very little about the print industry, who is hyperactive and stresses everyone out in her path. A little hurricane in her own right. One guy calls her the Tasmanian Devil. He attempts cheering me up: “Take it easy.”
“I’ll try. Sometimes it’s not easy to take it easy…”
I’m in the hot seat. Seems I’m the one who gets to be the punching bag. “You’re fault finding,” I explain. She doesn’t wanna hear it. Everyone has told her this, how high strung she is, but she is unstoppable.
Fictitious:
what’s going on, what are you doing?
I’m opening the door
how are you doing it?
by twisting the door knob…
why on earth would you go about it like that?
because because…. [gets cut off]
well, we need it done in a certain way. we expect you to do it.
um, your tone… you’re coming off a little rude. and by the way, doesn’t turning the knob seem the most practical?
well, this is what we expect…
I feel as if I can no longer
do something as simple
as open a door.
It is a realm of fault finding. I am watching myself in that realm quickly go insane, become minimized. It is all unnecessary, of course. But it is a matter of survival that I take things into my own hands and not let the bastards have their way. The answer may be in having to take another job, but I’m not ready to jump ship, yet. Be nice, though, to find something closer, where I wouldn’t have to crawl through traffic every day and deal with the rest of it…
“I would like for you to read my mind,” she says.
“I would like to be able to read your notes.”
. . .
my mind has several tasks:
– somehow adjust to this environment
– make sense of the nonsensical
– make the best of a bad situation
– strike the match of innovation
– introduce solutions
– achieve higher accuracy
– remain patient
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