This ain't Burger King



Well, we have another round of "I'm going to do it my way" problems popping up. Mostly at work. How about telling us how we're supposed to adapt to change? Instead of no communication and then watching us fall on our faces. Unclear emails are a hoot, as well. We don't need visual people in this office, we need people who understand nuances of language. Run-on misspelled sentences with incorrect phone numbers are a hindrance, not a plus. And I truly adore these methods because it is made to seem that I am the incorrect party, which is not the case. At least not when it comes to work. Teamwork only works when a system is put in place, not when I'm stuck with a bunch of changes no one is clarifying.



Another word of caution to friends and family: I cradle a phone in my ear all damn day. My neck truly hurts at the end of it. I spent yesterday afternoon going through hordes of People magazines in my doctor's office. I have four doctors--an endocrinologist for my thyroid and endocrine problems, a gynecologist for my hormonal issues (this falls under endocrine, too!), a regular physician, and a dermatologist for my hair and skin problems (which also falls under hormones and endocrine systems.) I absolutely refuse to give anyone an itinerary of what I do, where I go, when I go, or why I have to. I am an adult, case closed. Unresolved issues of rage and torment erupt violently when I think to the lack of boundaries I lived with in my childhood and adolescent home. If you haven't figured it out yet, the weekends are a better time to call me. My neck doesn't hurt as much, but I am not a phone person. Legend has it that I burst into tears while sitting in a high chair as a baby the first time I heard a phone ring. This still holds true. I hate phones.



Another thing: I watch maybe 4 hours of television a week. I don't want to miss my shows. I pay good money for cable, and I'm going to enjoy it. These shows are: Smallville, 20/20, Unwrapped, and the vh1 specials on 1986, 87, and 88. I skate on Thursday mornings. That means I get up at 4:45. I go to sleep at 9 pm. If I am tired during the week regardless, I will go to bed. It is too damn bad if you don't like it, I don't care if you hate figure skating, this the one joy I have left. I have to get up in the morning. I have a demanding job. I work a 45 hour, 5 day week. I am ready to fucking collapse at the end of the day. I don't want to hear any shit when I come home because I haven't called you or emailed you back. Capisce? Yes, mom, this includes you. I haven't had the money or the time for a vacation since 1999. I do not have rich relatives or a sugar daddy who will buy me first class tickets to Aruba, so knock it off already. If I seem stressed out, curt, tired or crabby, I'VE JUST EXPLAINED TO YOU WHY. PRINT THIS OUT IF YOU CAN'T REMEMBER.



If I am out of my office, guess what? I have an answering machine and a cell phone. That's why I bought them. If you get a voice mail, that's why I have voice mail. FOR MY CONVENIENCE. If you cannot handle the idea of having to wait, then don't call or send an owl with a letter like Harry Potter does. I absolutely, for the love of god, heaven and every saint, REFUSE to give people an itinerary of where I go or what I am doing. If I asked for the same thing, all of you would stick lawsuits up my ass sideways. Yes, mom, that means you.



And please no lectures about the fact that I sleep late Saturdays and Sunday. I work. I don't sit in front of a computer and pick my nose all damn day. I've earned the right to lay there for as long as I wish or at least until a feline friend needs a food/water bowl refill.



And please don't tell me to "shut the fuck up." If I hear this phrase again, even in passing, I will lose it. A litte consideration, folks? That's all I ask. I am truly exhausted.