This whole week I’ve been stunned, eyes wide, mouth open like a squirrel that’s just realized his destiny is to become roadkill. I now know that you should never, ever ask “what could possibly happen next” cause the answer will always make you redefine what you thought was normal.
One minute you’re walking around your office knowing that so-and-so is a lying whore and what’s-her-name is a back-stabbing bitch, but you have learned to deal with that and go along with your day. Then, someone does something that makes whoring and backstabbing look like charity work and you have to adjust your world view to accommodate this new data. I’ve adjusted my world view so many times I think the threads are stripped.
I won’t go into the details because we all have or had sucktastic jobs and I don’t want this to turn into a “my office is crazier than yours” contest. That’s like arguing which circle of hell is this hottest. Hell only has one fan, people, and it’s always pointed at the wall. No one wins.
What really bothers me about working in the absolute hottest circle of crazy office hell (it’s my blog, of course I win that contest, duh) is that it’s weakening me. I’m becoming overly sensitive to all this drama.
Once upon a time, when I was unwittingly made privy to unsavory happenings in my workplace (affairs, drugs, desk sex, unwanted advances, involuntary manslaughter, more affairs . . . ) I would stir my coffee, shrug my shoulders and go back to my desk. I basically had a “sucks to be you” attitude. It doesn’t affect me so why should I care?
But now, after so much irritation, my teflon exterior is worn through and the drama is starting to get to me. Every day at work I get headaches, my stomach knots and I obsessively clock-watch, itching for the moment when I can be free. This unease is also following me home and that is absolutely unacceptable. I can’t be worrying about work crap while I am at home. I got enough home crap to worry about!
I don’t want to be this way, all weak and pukey. I want my rock-hard shell back. I’ve learned that not only did this shell shield me from caring about any office drama, it protected me from feeling dirty by association. You can only be exposed to skeevy behavior for so long before it leaves an oily film on you. And believe me, there isn’t enough Dawn in the world to wash that oil slick off.
It is Friday. I have the whole weekend to recharge, reconstruct my anti-drama force field and strike the words “what could possibly happen next” from my vocabulary. I just hope that two days are enough.