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The new job is not going as well as I would have liked. I love the work I do, I love the customers I serve. I have a real problem with the lack of professionalism and immaturity displayed not only by my co-workers but more importantly by the boss. The boss is ineffectual and unprofessional. I can tolerate a lot of crap on the job, unprofessional behavior is not one of them. To say it isn't going well would be a huge understatement.
I am an adult, I conduct myself in an adult manner on the job. I take pride in my level of professionalism and the quality of work I produce. I expect others to do the same. Do common courtesy and a good work ethic even exist anymore? I find myself mired in a department of women who specialize in temper tantrums, lying, backstabbing, deceit and general laziness. I don't play those kind of games, what you see is what you get with me.
Friday at work was such a nightmare I had a complete and total meltdown when I got home. It took hours of Musicman listening to me vent before I calmed down. He didn't used to be very good at listening to me vent. His first instinct was to fix things for me, not possible when it comes to the job. Over the years, after me repeatedly saying to him, "I don't need you to fix this, I just need you to listen," he's gotten much better at doing just that.
I do value his opinion on the situation and am grateful for all the support and advice he gives me. He very often sees things differently then I do. He is also quite good at removing the emotion from the situation and presenting me with achievable solutions. Yes, given enough time, I would most likely get to those same solutions, he just cuts to the chase for me. I appreciate that.
Saturday morning dawned overcast and muggy. I dragged my exhausted body out of bed and off to work. I wasn't happy about it, but feeling better about how to handle the situation. I spoke with the boss regarding the previous days events and the fact that certain behaviors and the consequent results of those behaviors where entirely unacceptable to me. She agreed and promised to address the situation.
She did speak with one young woman, the major offender from the day before. Unfortunately, as soon as the boss left to attend a meeting this young woman thought it would be a wise idea to confront me about the situation. It was glaringly obvious that this young woman had no remorse regarding her disgustingly unacceptable and unprofessional behavior. Her issue was that she got called on that behavior, she blamed me for that.
I did my best to keep my cool and deal with her in an adult professional manner, but that only works to a point. Push me hard enough and I will explode, the conversation quickly reached that point. I found myself with a decision to make, attack or walk away.
I wanted to attack, oh how I wanted to attack, I was literally seeing red. For just a moment I gave reign to the thoughts urging me to go over the counter and grab the bitch by the throat. I was gonna hurt her and I was gonna hurt her bad. See, I may look like a mild mannered, middle aged mom, but looks can be deceiving. Deep, deep down inside me resides the street fighter I was growing up. I had to be a fighter to survive. I've worked hard over the years to let her go as I rarely need her now, but she will never be entirely gone.
I'm proud of the fact that I did not unleash my temper on her. If I had I would most likely being doing this post from a jail cell, cause they surely would have had reason to charge me with assault, if not murder. Years spent alone with no one to protect me but myself has made me very good at it. I haven't had to protect myself in a long time, Musicman does that for me now, but I do still have a strong self protection instinct.
No, I didn't attack, I did the mature thing and walked away. The not so mature thing about walking away was I didn't stop walking. I walked right out of the department, cleared out my locker, walked out of the store, got in my car and drove home. In a 30+ year work history, I've never done that before.
Tomorrow I start the search for a new job. I will also have to contact human resources and make arrangements to return my uniforms, that should be an interesting conversation. Sometimes being a mature responsible adult really sucks.
