Now . . . having said all that, I thought that I would make a good-will gesture to my team and show them that I *will* be there for them. I expect them to be team players; I can't do that if I'm not a team player.
Problem: today was my youngest cousin's wedding. My wife and I were invited to attend the sealing, wedding breakfast, and the reception tonight. After the lambasting I took on Tuesday, I felt that it would be better for me to stay with my team and be there for them.
I'm not sure I've *ever* been more wrong.
See . . . as the day progressed and it got closer to 10:30, I realized that work was the last place I wanted to be. I looked around at all these people that aren't as important to me and thought, "My family is 60 miles up the road at a wedding, and I'm stuck here because I made a *really* bad choice." At 11:00 am, I was as grumpy and mad at myself as I think I'd ever been.
Later in the day, as I talked with my branch lead, he asked why I had come in. I told him, and he said that was admirable, but then he asked if I'm going to regret the decision. "For the rest of my life, Barry. For the rest of my life, I'll always think of today--where I chose work over family. I feel sick to my stomach."
Of course, I really was sick in the physical sense. I have this tickle in my throat that produces this incredibly unproductive cough, all the while destroying muscle tissue and nerves spanning my entire back and neck. I cough so hard that I almost black out. Everyone at work yesterday was saying, "Dude . . . go home. You look like . . . . . ." I think you can guess the last word.
Part 4 is on deck!
Music for the Masses
Friday, November 30, 2007
Love and Death (pt 2)
So there's all that. I took it all in stride, listened to their "concerns" (the human resource and politically correct term for a word whose equivalent is vulgar colloquial slang for "complaining" and rhymes with "hitching"), and went about my business . . . but it ate at me. And ate. And ate. And ate . . . until today when I finally had a chance to talk with my branch lead about it. In the "order" of things, he's directly over me--my boss. Team, me, my boss. Anyway, he filled in some additional details, during which a guy who sits in my 4-pod cube farm turned to us and said, "I'm not trying to listen, but I can't help but overhear. Dude, you need to know this: you have a pot-stirrer on your team."
"Really. Who?"
I've had some shocks in my life. Finding out my brother was getting married was a really good shock, but one that I saw coming. Finding out weef's sister was marrying my ex-roommate was another really good shock. Finding out that my dad was dying, very bad shock. Finding out my grandfather was dying . . . very VERY bad shock. This was somewhere just below the very bad shock. Hearing from an outside, unbiased source that someone on your team is berating you in front of the whole office is one thing. Finding out that it is the same person with whom you had a conversation TWO MONTHS AGO (does "two months ago" ring any bells?) about coming to me with any issues or concerns is a flat-out heart-stopping, paddle-gelling shock.
Not to mention I have the cold from hell. Literally. I think Satan has vexed our whole household with colds, sniffles, ear aches, achy joints, spasmadic coughs and general illness, the likes of which have only been told in the Old Testament. And last time I checked, Satan is supposedly from hell. Okay, fine . . . I hyperbolize, but only to emphasize a point--I'm sick. Really sick.
Part 3, coming up!
"Really. Who?"
I've had some shocks in my life. Finding out my brother was getting married was a really good shock, but one that I saw coming. Finding out weef's sister was marrying my ex-roommate was another really good shock. Finding out that my dad was dying, very bad shock. Finding out my grandfather was dying . . . very VERY bad shock. This was somewhere just below the very bad shock. Hearing from an outside, unbiased source that someone on your team is berating you in front of the whole office is one thing. Finding out that it is the same person with whom you had a conversation TWO MONTHS AGO (does "two months ago" ring any bells?) about coming to me with any issues or concerns is a flat-out heart-stopping, paddle-gelling shock.
Not to mention I have the cold from hell. Literally. I think Satan has vexed our whole household with colds, sniffles, ear aches, achy joints, spasmadic coughs and general illness, the likes of which have only been told in the Old Testament. And last time I checked, Satan is supposedly from hell. Okay, fine . . . I hyperbolize, but only to emphasize a point--I'm sick. Really sick.
Part 3, coming up!
Love and Death (pt 1)
Ironically, there was an abundance of desire for both today. A paradox, to be sure. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.
Perhaps an explanation is in order.
To summarize what could quite possibly turn into a doctoral paper on the psychology of "mob mentality," I'll just say that my whole team blew up at me this past Tuesday for "never being at work." According to them, I take off too much time. The hilarious irony of that massively over-blown statement is that I was in the office *while I had scheduled myself to be off.* I had a telecon to attend, and I needed to create an executable for a help file for a guy who was going out of town. I came in because there was work that had to be done. This in light of the fact that my mom is visiting from out of state, and I don't get to see her very much. Anyway, irony aside, there were some other issues they have, apparently, all of which I listened to with stunned incredulity. "And . . . exactly *how* long have you all felt like this?"
"Well, it's been steadily getting worse over the last 6 months, but it's been dramatically worse the last two months."
Please rewind this blog to roughly the beginning of October, when we started fostering our two girls. Now, here we are at the end of Novembe. Roughly two months? HMMM.
In an effort to "head off at the pass" this exact scenario, I told my team immediately upon starting the fostering that there would be times where I'd need to take off to tend to the girls. That might be because they're sick; it could be that a sitter falls through at the last second. We've had enough friends with kids to know that just about anything you can think of won't happen; it's the bizarre stuff you *don't* think of that catches you off guard.
Anyway, I told them that at the beginning of October. I also told them that I needed their understanding and support, which I thought they had all promised. Now, almost two months later, that vague memory has apparently been sucked into the cauldron as part of the evil witch's brew that is the gossip mill.
Stand by for part 2.
Perhaps an explanation is in order.
To summarize what could quite possibly turn into a doctoral paper on the psychology of "mob mentality," I'll just say that my whole team blew up at me this past Tuesday for "never being at work." According to them, I take off too much time. The hilarious irony of that massively over-blown statement is that I was in the office *while I had scheduled myself to be off.* I had a telecon to attend, and I needed to create an executable for a help file for a guy who was going out of town. I came in because there was work that had to be done. This in light of the fact that my mom is visiting from out of state, and I don't get to see her very much. Anyway, irony aside, there were some other issues they have, apparently, all of which I listened to with stunned incredulity. "And . . . exactly *how* long have you all felt like this?"
"Well, it's been steadily getting worse over the last 6 months, but it's been dramatically worse the last two months."
Please rewind this blog to roughly the beginning of October, when we started fostering our two girls. Now, here we are at the end of Novembe. Roughly two months? HMMM.
In an effort to "head off at the pass" this exact scenario, I told my team immediately upon starting the fostering that there would be times where I'd need to take off to tend to the girls. That might be because they're sick; it could be that a sitter falls through at the last second. We've had enough friends with kids to know that just about anything you can think of won't happen; it's the bizarre stuff you *don't* think of that catches you off guard.
Anyway, I told them that at the beginning of October. I also told them that I needed their understanding and support, which I thought they had all promised. Now, almost two months later, that vague memory has apparently been sucked into the cauldron as part of the evil witch's brew that is the gossip mill.
Stand by for part 2.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Much argness
On Friday, weef, girls 1 and 2, and I all took a nice road trip up to Northern Utah. My mom and grandma are visiting from back east, and we really wanted to spend some time with them. So we went up. I brought my camera and camcorder. It was a lovely day of frolicking, resting, chatting, and it was an all-around really good day.
Until I got home.
We got the girls out of the car, got them inside and in bed (it was pretty late when we left, and it's a relatively long drive). I went back out to the car to get the camcorder and camera, which I was pretty sure should have been in the console between the two front seats. The only thing there was my 80GB Ipod and a can of coke. "Ummmm . . . "
Then it hit me: I NEVER PUT THEM IN THE CAR.
So I looked up on the roof. Amazingly and in what I consider to be a small miracle, the camera was still there. 60 miles through canyons, sharp turns, and 85 mph on the highway, and it stayed on the roof. Now . . . not to diminish the miraculous nature of it remaining intact, but we have a ski rack on the roof, and the camera was nestled in the back passenger side corner. Still, the camcorder didn't stay.
Of the two, I'd have to say that I'm glad the camcorder was the one to go. I'm head over heels in love with this camera; It's just a digital PS, but it's the rolls royce of PS cameras. Full manual control, yet I can flip it over to auto, turn it over to Lori, and the pictures are just as nice. It's fantastic.
But yah . . . the camcorder's gone. Every second of video from having the girls so far is gone. It's sad, but I'm glad we have the camera.
Until I got home.
We got the girls out of the car, got them inside and in bed (it was pretty late when we left, and it's a relatively long drive). I went back out to the car to get the camcorder and camera, which I was pretty sure should have been in the console between the two front seats. The only thing there was my 80GB Ipod and a can of coke. "Ummmm . . . "
Then it hit me: I NEVER PUT THEM IN THE CAR.
So I looked up on the roof. Amazingly and in what I consider to be a small miracle, the camera was still there. 60 miles through canyons, sharp turns, and 85 mph on the highway, and it stayed on the roof. Now . . . not to diminish the miraculous nature of it remaining intact, but we have a ski rack on the roof, and the camera was nestled in the back passenger side corner. Still, the camcorder didn't stay.
Of the two, I'd have to say that I'm glad the camcorder was the one to go. I'm head over heels in love with this camera; It's just a digital PS, but it's the rolls royce of PS cameras. Full manual control, yet I can flip it over to auto, turn it over to Lori, and the pictures are just as nice. It's fantastic.
But yah . . . the camcorder's gone. Every second of video from having the girls so far is gone. It's sad, but I'm glad we have the camera.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
randomness
I collect glow in the dark stuff. Most people know that about me. If you didn't, well . . . now you do. :) ANYway, so Lori and I are also into this whole geocaching thing. Part of the fun is finding "trackables," such as travelbugs and/or geocoins. Guess who's found some glow in the dark geocoins. Ebay has a smattering from time to time. On rare occasions, they'll have really good ones, like this little guy. There's also this one, which is much more up my alley.
Anyway, I do that. So far, we have quite the little collection going with these things.
It's Sunday afternoon. I should be at church, but girl 1 has what we think is pink eye, and girl 2 is sporting a neon green/yellow snot-covered nose. Girl 2 has already been to the doctor, but girl 1 really needs to go.
Speaking of girl 1, I think she just had a nightmare. It's not like her to wake up crying for no reason. Typically, it's a nightmare, and only mommy can handle those. Daddy isn't allowed to help, or to talk, or to be in the same room . . . it's sad, but I'm positive that there's a very legitimate reason for all of those "rules" that girl 1 has established for herself. "Well, *you* need to be the one establishing the rules--not her." Yes, that's true . . . except she brings a very special set of circumstances to the relationship that I am not going to just throw out or trump. She has real, valid, serious concerns that need to be addressed. Nothing can help her move forward like respect and space in these kinds of situations. If she's just throwing a tantrum (which, trust me, is more often the case than not), then yah--she gets a talking-to and the appropriate response.
They're such sweet girls, too. I don't know everything about their history, and I'm pretty sure I don't *want* to know, but I feel like we *need* to know in order to help them the best we can. My guess is that we won't get to know anything unless we actually adopt them, but we'll cross that bridge later.
Sweet and sour meatballs tonight. Long live the almighty slow cooker!
Anyway, I do that. So far, we have quite the little collection going with these things.
It's Sunday afternoon. I should be at church, but girl 1 has what we think is pink eye, and girl 2 is sporting a neon green/yellow snot-covered nose. Girl 2 has already been to the doctor, but girl 1 really needs to go.
Speaking of girl 1, I think she just had a nightmare. It's not like her to wake up crying for no reason. Typically, it's a nightmare, and only mommy can handle those. Daddy isn't allowed to help, or to talk, or to be in the same room . . . it's sad, but I'm positive that there's a very legitimate reason for all of those "rules" that girl 1 has established for herself. "Well, *you* need to be the one establishing the rules--not her." Yes, that's true . . . except she brings a very special set of circumstances to the relationship that I am not going to just throw out or trump. She has real, valid, serious concerns that need to be addressed. Nothing can help her move forward like respect and space in these kinds of situations. If she's just throwing a tantrum (which, trust me, is more often the case than not), then yah--she gets a talking-to and the appropriate response.
They're such sweet girls, too. I don't know everything about their history, and I'm pretty sure I don't *want* to know, but I feel like we *need* to know in order to help them the best we can. My guess is that we won't get to know anything unless we actually adopt them, but we'll cross that bridge later.
Sweet and sour meatballs tonight. Long live the almighty slow cooker!
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