Surprised it wasn't sooner

"I'm very happy you called," she said, and I was surprised to hear it.

But why did I call? I must've had a compelling reason, since it was almost a year ago that we agreed never to speak to each other again. But all I'd done was babble inanities about mutual friends. I felt myself tearing up as I said, "I am, too. I miss you."

"I'm very happy you called," she said again.

And then I realised that she was telling me--every so gently, in that unflappably polite manner of hers--that it was time for me to hang up, which I did. And it occurred to me that I still had no idea how she really felt.

Then I woke up.

Part of the precipitate

As I know I've bitched about before, it's evaluation time here, and the forms for my employees are due by the end of the day. I've been stuck on them all week. It's so tedious every year to try to come up with new ways of saying that they're all excellent. I mean, that, too; I wouldn't trade any one of them for any two people who have worked for me before.

The whole awful process also forces some evaluation of my workplace as well. I've long accepted that it's a hopelessly screwed-up place, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that it was no more screwed up than any other department here and still better overall than the last place I worked. But there are a couple of recent realisations which have cast doubt on at least the first prong of that.

The first was a discussion I had with a co-worker last week. Two years ago, he led a communications survey of the various departments. This consisted of him and another colleague visiting with each department in the absence of the heads and asking a series of questions. He describe a "chill" in the air when he met with ours which was unlike what he found anywhere else.

Then yesterday, our head called a meeting to discuss the ready reference shelves. Because I'd already discussed my ideas in detail with both the head and her assistant, I made a serious effort to sit back and let them run things. It gave me something of the sensation of watching the events unfold as an outsider. And it was appalling. My boss managed to present the changes in just about the worst possible way I could imagine.

I would've deemphasised the weeding and focused on the positive: The opportunity to upgrade to actually useful titles rather than the ragtag leftovers that have accumulated over the years. I also would've led with our intention to jump-start the "web subgroup" and give them the useful task of collecting and maintaining links to online resources which will make most of the print obsolete.

She did the reverse, of course. But what really got to me was the tone. She managed to put the most depressing spin imaginable on every aspect. The impetus for the weeding was having to move the resources so we could use these shelves to unify inflow of materials from another department; she made it sound like the other department was forcing us to do this. It was she who insisted on a central location, since she was convinced our people couldn't be trusted to remember to pick up the materials otherwise. She said as much, in pretty much those terms (although omitting to mention her responsibility). When it came--at last--to mentioning online resources, she ominously warned that members of the subcommittee "will be coming for you" to collect useful links.

And on and on. When I gave monshu the blow-by-blow afterwards, his response was, "Frankly, I would describe that as passive-aggressive"--making it clear it was something she really didn't want to do while nominally agreeing to it. When I asked him what he expected the immediate outcome to be, he said, "I expect everyone wandered back to their desks without doing anything or talking to anyone." And he was right. Am I wrong that any healthy department would've concluded that meeting with a gaggle of co-workers cooperatively pawing through the items on the shelf?

I've always seen my boss as something of a bulwark against some of the greater idiocies of the institution, but now I'm beginning to wonder how much she personally is contributing to demoralising us all. I'm not sure where my conclusions would lead to, since she'll serve until death or retirement anyway, but there may be creative ways to mitigate some of the harm she's doing.

Nothing rhymes with April

It was a little taste of summer today. The mercury hit the 80s, the kids were out sunning themselves on the grass, and the Cubs have started their June Swoon just a bit early.

monshu's lucky I don't believe in jinxes. I came bounding into the bedroom earlier tonight to tell him that the Cards had just scored in the fifth to lead 2-0 against the Cubs. "Isn't that the same as what happened in that other game?" [Last Saturday's 5-7 loss.] I scolded him, saying "That's not what a supportive boyfriend would say!" Within two innings, the Cardinals had made two errors and the score was 3-3. I was glued to the television for the next couple hours until they pulled it out in the 8th. (Can't really cast stones what with Schumaker dropping a routine fly and all, but, really, how sucky do you have to be to let Pujols steal bases in back-to-back games?)

So, to recap, two things I need if I'm going to be watching Cards-Cubs games on a regular basis: (1) sympathetic boyfriend; (2) alternative audio so I don't have to keep listening to the suck that passes for calling in the bleak post-Brickhouse era. Usually the chuckleheads just babble on instead of, you know, describing the action on the field, but tonight they outdid themselves. When Pujols made it home, one of the nimrods said, "That's three for the Cardinals!" Um, they had three from the end of the fifth inning on, moron. But a win is a win, even when it's the fourth one in a row. (Beating the Cubs is nice for the bragging rights it gives over our neighbour, but sweeping the Mets is what warms the cockles of that 12 year-old's heart inside me.)

I should go easy on the Old Man, however. He was too sleepy for our planned trip to Andersonville, so I took him out to Uncommon Ground instead. On false pretences, as it turns out: They were the only place around that has outdoor seating, but I don't know what made me think they left it out all year round. It also turns out we'd stayed away just long enough for me to forget what ruined the meal I had there before. When my pork belly arrived dried out, I thought That's right, didn't they fuck up the meat then, too? Looking back, I see that they did, but what really exasperated me was the burnt cornbread, so it turns out I can't blame them after all for the Heartland Cafe mistake of letting the vegetarians cook the meat.

I lacked the conviction to send it back when I should've, but still whined about it anyway, which caused our server to softheartedly comp both my beer and our dessert. "You really don't want me to leave in a bad mood, do you?" I told her. And I didn't, but I'm really tired of paying $20 for a piece of meat and have it turn out more poorly than at someplace which would've charged me half as much for a more generous portion. Bitch, gripe, moan. I blame my pissiness on something in the air. After all, the couple right next to us got into an argument in front of their young child and, on the back porch earlier that evening, our neighbour was cursing his wife into his Bluetooth receiver. Seriously, people, what about doing your laundry at home?