Tag Archives: frustration

It’s the Little Things


Nothing is ever gained by reading the comments.

I’d like that inscribed my gravestone. Or on the plaque marking the tree growing out of my remains.

It never fails. Read an inspiring article or personal account or harrowing experience, maybe something I relate to on a deeply personal level. Feel validated or vindicated. This person gets it. I’m not alone in this thought or philosophy or experience. Just don’t read the comments.

Don’t do it.

You’ll regret it.

Well, the ones I can see are all positive so maybe I’ll just scroll down a little…

Damnit. I hate people.

It’s not just the Trolls. Those are easy to pick out. Look at me! Making libtards/snowflakes/sjws/whatever fight me in the comments is the only way my tiny dick gets hard. NOT ALL MEN! WHOO!

The non sequiturs are annoying. I didn’t read the post, but I fully agree/disagree for a long paragraph that has nothing to do with anything. Please validate me because the cats don’t cuddle me as much as I thought they would.

It’s tragic that you lost your baby months before it was born, but we prayed really hard and our friend’s daughter didn’t have a Down Syndrome baby so it’s a good thing they didn’t abort.

The “I support you but not how you express yourself/protest” comments.

The “that’s not how I handled a dissimilar situation” comments.

The “My story is so much worse, let me prove it” comments.

I think, after much consideration, the worst comments are Dismissives.

Yes, it is awful that some stranger harassed you on the subway and women face this blatant disrespect EVERY DAY, but get over it because there are starving children in China. I hope you’re happy that we don’t live in a country were female genitals are ritually mutilated and you’re allowed to leave your house without a male escort.

I’m sorry that your rapist went unpunished, but there is an island of trash in the Pacific and 16 species of bee went extinct in the last ten minutes. So, you know, get over it.

Ok, yes. There are a lot of problems in the world, but how exactly does pointing that out help? Does snidely tacking on #firstworldproblems when people are harassed or bullied or triggered make anything better?

It’s such a little issue in the grand scheme of things, why did you waste the time to complain?

Well I say, eff that jazz. When you’re hurting, you may think it helps to remember that others have it worse. Well, it doesn’t. Your pain is unique to you, there’s no scale you have to measure up to before you qualify to feel pain or anger or fear. “You must be this traumatized to ride the Shitty Life Roller Coaster.” Bull. Shit.

We are all trying to get by. I’m trying to save the planet by ditching straws and buying package-free products and recycling bottles and paper scraps even though I know I can never make up for the sheer magnitude of 100 years of industrial waste. And everything I do to help the environment is usually just as bad as not helping. (Like buying a hybrid or electric car to reduce my carbon footprint only to find that building and shipping that car caused so much pollution that I’d have to drive it for 1000 years just to break even.)

I’m hoping to raise my son to treat all people with respect, even while judges refuse to hold grown men accountable for raping preteens because they took money from him so they were the aggressors. And women saying it’s better to thank a catcaller because ignoring them can cause escalation from friendly flirtation to murder, even though catcalling is totally harmless. And people are more pissed off about aborting dead babies and kneeling athletes than black kids being shot for wearing hoodies.

How am I supposed to protect my son from toxic masculinity if you think it’s what bought him his freedom? How do I explain Conversion Therapy and 22 veteran suicides a day? How much damage will I have to undo when you tell him that boys don’t cry? Don’t be a pussy. That’s gay. Man up. Remember, son, your problems are insignificant, so stop bitching and go chop some wood and threaten to rape a girl because she’s playing a video game.

How about instead of telling a girl that a random stranger yelling that he’d totally fuck her is a compliment, we tell boys that catcalls are a threat? And asking for a hug is a subtle way of reminding women that if you wanted to, you could rape her behind a dumpster and leave her for dead because you have great swim times.

To return to my point, it is an ugly world out there. But we aren’t going to fix it by pointing at the ugly and yelling at people to get over their issues. If we don’t fix the little problems, we’re screwed.

To quote the late great, Aretha Franklin: R-E-S-P-E-C-T

That means you don’t treat people like things. Even if you disagree with their politics. Even if you feel attracted to them. Even if you can’t see their faces. Stop responding to criticism with insults. Stop adding to their suffering to make yourself feel more important or righteous. Stop blaming victims for their abuse. Just stop being assholes. Don’t be a pretentious twat waffle. Why is that so hard?

Maybe if we start respecting people again, we can start respecting other things.

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Filed under Ramblings, Rants

Attitude Problem


Yesterday was a day.  It was a bad day at work which turned into my last day at work.  It is a relief, though it was very upsetting at the time.

Here’s the facts.  I have an attitude problem and I am not good at hiding it.  I don’t like being spoken down to.  I don’t like being told what to do.  That’s not to say that I can’t follow directions.  I like lists, I like directions, I like rules and order.  I do not like being micro-managed.  It is extremely insulting because it implies that I am incapable of doing simple tasks without someone holding my hand.  So, when someone speaks down to me or treats me like an infant, I get angry.  I try to keep it to myself, but I don’t have complete control over myself.  My anger will leak into my voice, into my movements.  I don’t like it.  I would prefer to have a Jedi/Vulcan calm.  I suppose everyone would.

I also need people to like me, trust me, praise me.  I don’t like being wrong at all.  These are character flaws and I struggle with them, like everyone.

So, it was a bad day at work.  We were short-staffed because a few other people have decided they would prefer to work elsewhere.  Fewer people means that I feel rushed to do things and some tasks that should be done periodically are ignored because there is so much to do and not enough people to do everything.  Instead of trusting the manager to, well, manage the situation, maybe lending a hand as needed, the boss dictates everything we do and how and in what order.

And, in my opinion, it was the wrong order.  It was infuriating.  I do not like asking permission to do necessary tasks.  You could say that I was losing control and I wouldn’t argue with you.  The boss has every right to dictate how things are done and as an employee, I should try to follow those dictates regardless of my personal opinions.  I was a soldier.  I know how to take orders.

I guess part of the problem is that I was a soldier.  I was an NCO, trained to lead and to take command.  I was only an E-5, a buck sergeant, enough rank to expect some autonomy and respect, but not enough to suffer the stress of command.  You could say that I have experience in training personnel, dealing with stressful situations, and assessing and prioritizing tasks.  (I should also explain that I have a compulsion to finish tasks and I am the type of person that has to stack dishes before I start washing them.)

I guess it came to a head when a piece of equipment fell off the disorderly pile of dishes onto the floor and I was told to be more careful and that it shouldn’t have been put where it was and I managed not to scream that if someone had let me do some of the dishes then maybe things wouldn’t be precariously perched and…

Instead of yelling I shrugged, found a better place to put it on the stack and went about doing may assigned tasks a bit louder than was probably necessary.  A short time later, I was called to the front of the shop where I was asked if I had a problem with the boss and encouraged to be honest.  I said yes.  I was given the choice of working it out with her right now or looking for a new job.  So I said that I did not need this job, offered to finish the day but was told to leave immediately (which I was grateful for and completely understand).

I cried some, which is to be expected, and I let it torment me a lot.  Could I have found a way to work it out?  I don’t know.  How do you explain to someone that a civilian saying she gave me an order is deeply offensive?  How do I tell her husband that her managerial style is so poisonous that she is driving away all her employees?  How do I get across that I cannot be treated like a bad dog?  I may downplay my experience in the military, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to disregard that I am a decorated combat veteran.  I may not have seen any “action” (i.e I didn’t have to shoot at anyone), but I did my duty and I am not some kid who can be treated like crap just because I need to make rent and will put up with rudeness for a paycheck.  I don’t need a job.  I really only wanted a job to keep me occupied and gain civilian work experience.  My husband is the one paying the bills, and doing a stellar job of it.  And he will continue to be the bread winner until I finish school and start in on my own career and become rich and famous.

I am capable of being a mature adult even after all of this.  I emailed my old boss to thank him for the opportunity and experience, as well as his gracious flexibility concerning my rather flexible schedule.  I am sorry it couldn’t have ended more amiably, but so it goes.  His response was courteous, so while I can’t expect a glowing reference from him, I can at least continue to attend the same church as him.  That is the greatest relief for me right now.  I can’t stand people not liking me.

My biggest regret is that my absence is going to negatively affect my coworkers, and they are already stressed enough.  But sometimes you have to do what is right for your own state of mind and I lost far too much sleep over that job.

So that is my attitude problem.  If my prospective employers are reading this, I hope they understand that I am not trying to make excuses or justify myself, nor am I trying to place blame in anyone else’s corner.  I am trying to be honest with myself so that I can improve for next time.

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15AM000000122011 · 00:19

Fake Holiday Anxiety


Today was a good day.  Sort of.  Math was boring and frustrating (=normal).  Lit survey was a discussion on Pope’s The Rape of the Lock.  Mock epic poetry is my jam.  Then I had to drive home.  You know when you just want to get home after a lame day so you can have homemade sweet potato, rosemary, and bacon soup with a cup of hot cocoa, and a book of Medieval Welsh mythology, and that’s the day everyone is driving 5 miles under the speed limit in both lanes of traffic because a semi truck is in the left lane and an a-hole in a crappy old car is staying right next to him despite the truck’s turn signal being on for the last 5 miles?  And when you finally get off the interstate, you get stuck behind a small construction vehicle going (you guessed it) 5 miles under the speed limit on the two-lane road?

I don’t know why today was so much worse than every other day I make this stupid commute, but by the time I got home, I was nearly in tears and wishing a blemish on the beards (as the medieval Welsh would say) of every driver in this stupid state.

Then I made my soup and plotted my meals for February and made cookies for my hair stylist because her work was stellar and she earned them.

I am super determined to keep up my recipe resolution this month.  It’s not because I’m worried about the censure of my readers or my Facebook friends.  It’s because my husband doesn’t think I’ll do it.  You see, next week is HELL WEEK at work thanks to the Hallmark holiday, which I am convinced everyone secretly loathes but celebrates anyway because of the candy-fueled conditioning we received as children.  As a result, any time I’m not at school, I’ll be at work under the tyranny of a psychopath (remind me to change that to “a very nice lady’ when I start looking for a real job).  I will even skip classes (GASP) because we will be that busy with people trying to prove their love with overpriced soppy products.  They will be stressed because they will be feeling the pressure of having put off their gift buying to the last-minute and then coming to understand that a lot more is expected of them than they originally guessed, but how much more is still unclear.  They will also be unsure of how much they want to spend.  Then they will be dicks because we will tell them we are out of the cheap things, that we can’t customize at this point, that we can’t take any more deliveries.  They will be rude when we ask them to pick up their delivery because no one was home when we stopped by and we don’t have the manpower or vehicles to re-deliver (and the delivery charge buys you one attempt, not assurance that we will sit outside your home until it’s convenient for you to receive it).

People, be nice to the service industries this week.  Your flower vendors, candy stores, fruit arrangers, delivery truck drivers, and restaurant wait staff are not trying to ruin your fake holiday.  They are skipping school, missing lunch and dinner, and standing/driving for hours with only bathroom breaks to look forward to.  When they get home, their fancy dinners will be cold, their flowers will be wilted, and their loved ones will be asleep.  Please, before you get snappy with some 20-year-old kid because you didn’t plan ahead, remember that they are dealing with hundreds of people’s “perfect romantic evenings,” not just your date night.  They have to stand there and smile while you take out your frustration on them for your inability to recognize that the world doesn’t revolve around you.  We will do what we can within reason and company policy.  Beyond that, this saying applies:

“PISS-POOR PLANNING ON YOUR PART DOES NOT CONSTITUTE AN EMERGENCY ON MY PART.”

Most of my posts next week will probably be in all caps.  I apologize ahead of time.  Holidays just seem to give me a view of the worst people.

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