Halcyon Days

Please, my sense of humor?

Her backpack finally arrived and you can call me crankypants. She's smiling though and this is very useful; it will help her deal with me while various and assorted pieces parts of my psyche periodically whip off and whiz past her head due to the increasing centrifugal force. We're all good at this duck and roll business.

None of this is bad. I don't think it's bad? Is it bad? I'd have to check under the hood and I'm probably too bleary eyed to do much more than add a quart of oil at this point and I'm not sure I'd trust me to put the cap back on.

Cletus's impending departure is upon me. Us. I meant us. Truly I did. Right. No. Sorry. Cletus's impending departure. Doom. Departure. Is upon me. Yup yup, here it comes.

OH MY GOD HAVE YOU REFILLED ALL YOUR PRESCRIPTIONS FOR THE SUMMER THAT REQUIRE SPECIAL AUTHORIZATION FROM OUR CRAZY INSURANCE COMPANY?!!! HAVE YOU?  DAMMIT! STOP AVOIDING YOU HAVE ALMOST NO TIME LEFT DON'T MAKE YOU CALL YOUR FATHER!!!

I sent a text to her father.

It's the little things. They pop up in the middle of the day when I have absolutely zero bandwidth to deal with them and drive me nearly off the deep end and the good news is I have absolutely zero bandwidth to deal with them and can't drive her all that crazy. Just slightly.

Me:    What do you mean you're not taking a sleeping bag?

Cletus:    Bedbugs.

Me:    Bedbugs?

Cletus:    Yeah, bedbugs are a real problems so hostels won't let you bring them in. You can have these sheet set things or you can rent sheets.

Me:    Good thing it's summer.

Cletus:    Yeah. Good thing.

I got the itinerary last Sunday, late. Or maybe it was Monday morning. Or something. Anyway, I saw the map. I know how they picked out the route. Here's how they picked out the route (I was sitting on the couch after a REALLY great night at the Stamford dance winding down and watching this):

Cletus:    This one has a shower.

Friend:    It costs too much.

Cletus:    How many days since we last had a shower?

Friend:    Three.

Cletus:    You know how you feel about washing your pieces parts in a public toilet.

Friend:    Right, ok, shower it is.

Me:    Wait. You're traveling right up the waterline and that's a great big lake.

Them, in harmony:    Yeah, we know, we have 4 baths, um, swims already planned in that lake.

Me:    Where are you doing your laundry?

Them, in harmony:    bwahhahahahahaha. In the sink or not at all.

Me:    Excellent answer.

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Last Saturday's dance.

OhmygodisheHAWT!

He hasn't been around in forever. OK, he hasn't been at the local dance but I haven't been to the far away dance and that dance is farther away for him. Last time I saw him was New Year's Eve and he had his girl friend with him. He doesn't always have his girl friend with him but often enough you know he's got one. She wasn't with him Saturday night. She wasn't with him enough it was clear she wasn't with him AT ALL anymore. I just wish I'd been able to hold my hands just a little more still when he asked me to pin that ridiculous square of paper we call a name tag to his shirt. You have to use a safety pin which means you have to stick your hand INSIDE the guy's shirt and I was doing it backwards because he'd already started it and if I'd just thought to take the safety pin OUT and start over the other way it wouldn't have been so difficult but my brain stopped functioning the minute I made skin contact and got close enough to smell him and at least I didn't fall on the floor. There's that. I had Elizabeth with me which curtailed any obnoxious parking lot behavior which is good. This keeps him from becoming immediately disposable.

I did not lick his face. And yes, as a matter of fact I do want the medal for that.

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This week.

This week was as brutal, painful, easier, lighter, scary, terrifying and whatever else that you might expect it to be. The people I thought might hate me ignored me completely and went about their business. The people I expected to be professional were basket cases. Help came from some of the most unexpected places. Some people are just plain crazy and there's nothing to be done about that. On Wednesday I nearly lost my mind and by 4 PM told my interim manager very calmly (because he told me to speak up when things just weren't right and if you do that I'm going to test those waters at least once) that the words 'Thank You' were appropriate after a server and a system had been saved. The Spanish Inquisition that followed after I made several technical decisions (grounded in six years of saving this shit) to pull some bad ass shit out of the water was understandable given the highly fragile emotional state of senior management. OK, that's not true.

I'll accept that The Spanish Inquisition occurred. I can even see how it occurred. However, when all was said and done and the evidence laid out on the table, I still saved your collective asses and you still spent most of the afternoon tearing my limbs off for it but in the end agreed that the right things occurred for the right reasons and that I would still do exactly the same thing. I'm just going to do it a lot slower next time with a lot more red tape just so we can all hyperventilate a little longer.

Anyway, the words, I said, are 'thank you'. And he, my interim boss said, 'I don't think you're going to get that'. And I said, 'I can see that but you said speak up so I'm speaking up. I think if you're going to lead something UPWARD then squashing your people on the ground when they're busting their asses to get you there isn't particularly forwarding. No? I defended my actions. I explained the situation. I was very clear. In the end we all agreed that everybody understood exactly what happened and that this would be exactly the course of action we'd take in the future. I didn't even do this in a bubble, I did this with the full knowledge of my team.'

I'm just saying.

And then I had to turn around because I was definitely going to start crying and that would have been bad because I was too god damned mad at that point to give anybody the satisfaction.

I just kept working.

Two hours later the next three levels of management came over and said thank you. That would be all the way to the top. I expect they really didn't want to at that point but they did it. I really didn't feel like making eye contact but I did.

I waited until I got to the parking lot to even let my face change. I waited until I got to the car to start crying and I waited until I crawled into bed to come completely unhinged.

On Thursday morning I got up and said:

IT'S GOING TO BE A BETTER DAY, DAMMIT!

And it was.

And so was yesterday, Friday.

We started with chaos and fear on Monday because nobody had a clue what our department did, exactly. They only knew what my boss told them and a lot of it was a lie. I had zero credibility. They only knew what my boss told them. My boss's boss didn't even see this coming. He was completely out of the loop. There isn't much I can come right out and say. It has to come out slowly and it is coming out. They're going to have to see competence just show up, and it is just showing up.

The consultant is an ass but Boss's boss is attached to him. I'm going to have to let him hang himself.

We sent Peer off on vacation Thursday afternoon. This is a REALLY GOOD THING.

It was a really long week and it used up incredibly huge chunks of me but in a, what do you call it? A productive way.

And it only took until week 20. I don't even feel scarred. Not even all that tired.

Time to go. I have a lot to get done this weekend. None of it is work related. 

Sheathing the dagger

In the end all I really did was stand up and blow the whistle but I can't say I experienced it that way because once I stood up I had to keep standing and to keep standing I had to start fighting back. But that's how it was communicated to me starting at 4:43 yesterday when the phone rang and I almost answered:

Hello Joe.

I'm glad I didn't because the phone didn't say it was Joe precisely and my brain didn't exactly tell me that, my brain told me not to be flip about the way I answered this time even though I knew perfectly well who was going to be on the other end of that line. He just happened to be calling from somebody else's office. He needs a name doesn't he? I guess Boss's Boss's Boss isn't going to cut it anymore. I'll call him Edward. It's a perfectly dignified name. Just don't be tempted to stick a 'Team' in front of it.

Actually, I did a really bizarre thing now that I think about it. I answered my home phone like a company phone. I answered, hello, this is Alecto. Well, OK, so there we were. Time.

I'll start with, I have no real idea when, exactly, I was clear I wasn't going to be fired other then when they asked if I was still willing to come to work on Monday morning, and at that point the realization that all the bones should immediately slide through the soles of my feet and puddle onto the floor hit me just in time to step into the proverbial bucket thus avoiding making one hell of a mess on the bedroom floor and also making it harder to collect and resurrect at a later time and date.

I was staring out the bedroom window into the driveway which has some sort of relevance, I'm just not sure what other than it might be my tower. No white noise this time, just a struggle to collect all the words for later processing.

The conversation was just long enough to assure me that

• he doesn't know it was me (oh, I'm sure he does)
• arrangements have been made with the formerly hated girl to come and help clean up
• a temporary supervisor is being located
• another body from the current consulting firm is being located
• the company is grateful that I stood up and blew the whistle and that during the investigation it was clear that his behavior was consistent and long term and this wasn't acceptable leadership or management style

And then it went like this:

• Do you have the admin password?
• No? Don't you?
• Absolutely not, he would never have shared that.
• We'll be able to call him for some things but we'll need to use that sparingly.
• That will be one of the most important things we'll need to know. If we had to know only one thing, that would be it.

I started to come a little unraveled toward the end of the conversation. Joe said I must be feeling a great deal of relief and quite a bit of emotion at this point. I said I was very relieved and agreed that it would indeed be a very bumpy ride but that we'd get through it. I indicated we'd need more help than they were anticipating and mentioned an additional employee they hadn't even thought about. He'd only left the department a year ago and was a developer. How had this been missed? Go and get him. Get him now. And while you're at it, go to another, closer consulting firm and get a Tech GOD, and I mean it, get one now and have a complete health check done on this environment. Now. I mean that. Now before this all comes crashing down upon our heads.

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At 3:05 I got a text message from Peer:

Hey how goes it?

I chose to ignore the text for at least an hour. If I'm going to maintain my cover I need to NOT be immediately available and since I haven't been called I don't really know what's motivated him to ping me now.

At 4:11 I sent a message back but didn't hear anything until 5:12 when there was light banter meant, I'm pretty sure to feel me out. Were you really sick? In retrospect I'm really glad I stuck to my story and stuck good and hard. 

The next text came at 7:06 and the conversation went like this:

Peer:    Do u think u'll b in next week?

Me:    Of course. Don't worry. Monday.

Peer:    I already am

Me:    I understand. There's no point in being worried.

Peer:    It's been busy without u. now it will be even worse.

Me:    Sigh. You're going to have to breathe. Seriously. We won't know anything until Monday. OK?

Peer:    Yeah, Bethany sent updates to her db. That won't happen.

Me:    Edward's message didn't go out until six, she wouldn't have known. Go have a cocktail and breathe. Seriously.

Peer:    uh huh... I told them I was on vaca on the 17th they didn't know that

Me:    There's a lot we all don't know, ok?

Me:    Triage

Peer:    They told me to go home at 4:30. I haven't seen his message.

Me:    It's on your crackberry.

Peer:    OK

Peer:    I'll take a look later... they had me in Joe's office...telling me if he harasses me to call the police. then boss calls my personal phone.

Me:    omg

Peer:    They told me not to answer it... i was like, nooo he's still my friend

Me:    What did you do?

Peer:    I answered it

Me:    Wasn't that just a little bit uncomfortable?

Peer:    I told them I had to

Me:    Couldn't you have called him back?

Me:    Weren't they upset afterward?

Peer:    nope... it was better this way... callme

And it went downhill from there. Cops in the building. Boss looking for his sunglasses. Reaching out to Peer when he knew perfectly well he'd be in Edward's office. The timing like this was all either very fast or not quite truthful. Peer was sent home at 4:30. Boss's meeting was at 4. I suppose it could have been that fast. What did Boss say that had Joe and Edward tell him to call the police if he was harassed? Why did Peer start the conversation on the phone by telling me he wasn't supposed to tell me any of this but it didn't matter now because I already knew and I'm thinking... nooooooo... Peer, I think this is another case of, you're not supposed to tell me because there are some things they don't want me to hear like... call the police if you're harassed.

How passive aggressive is this guy anyway.

It got worse. We're screwed, he said. Blast (a project about to be released) is over. Boss told me he was up all night and if he hadn't been the it would have never come this far. He went on and on. I explained triage. Again. I talked about this sort of thing happening to companies on a fairly regular basis. I referred to it as 'when key players get hit by a bus'.

I said, OK, listen to me, you don't work for Boss anymore. You now officially work for TheBigBank and you're going to have to trust that for right now. What I didn't say was, Buddy, drink the kool aid and get on the bus because I'm pretty sure, given who you are and what you just did, this bus door is probably only going to open one more time for you.

I don't know that he's going to be able to separate his personal life from work. I know he can't say no to Old Boss. I know Old Boss's rage is going to be epic. I know anything anyone says to Peer is going right back to Old Boss and will feed a vicious cycle. I know I don't really care all that much anymore.

I know Old Boss has friends in the building. I know I have a job to do and I'm really, really good at it.

Six years of triage at The Factory.

Here I come guys. See you Monday morning.

And Old Boss at The Factory? Thank you.

Dagger is sheathed, sword is out and it's not the kind that takes off heads.   

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Holy Fucking Shit. I did it.

Exactly 19 weeks.

and I say that with a great deal of humility because any of us can fall down at any time. all I asked for was a chance and a chance is what I've got.

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Somebody gave this to me once. Some of you might not get it. Hell, most of you might not get it but that's OK. When it comes right down to it this blog's for me.

 

Now, I got shit I gotta go do which includes getting Cletus a pair of shoes that will support her feet for 83 days and a bunch of other things related to house, home and kids, dogs and then Elizabeth and I will be dancing tonight and tomorrow all three kids and I will be going to see Dark Shadows, INCLUDING Numbah One Son who absolutely despises Johnny Depp (Really? Who knew) but loves his Momma more.

But wait. There's more.

Simon of the Day

There was actually a photograph of a Saint Bernard (and the dog FIT) on this x-tra large doggy bed $19.99 Walmart Special. Heh. He so happy:

Hello? Tap tap tap... is there anybody in here?

4 PM. No phone call. 4:52 and I'm sitting at the computer (I don't know why because it's this computer and it's useless in terms of work related stuff but it's a desk, OK?) with my cell phone getting ready to call Joe (HR guy) at 5 just in case he has the urge to go home at 5 without calling me first because, truth? If he doesn't call me I have no freaking IDEA what to do about Friday morning. I mean none. And I don't want to call Boss's Boss's Boss's cell phone. I really don't. Really, this needs to come through HR.

So I dial the phone and it goes to voice mail and voice mail informs me that Joe is at off-site meetings for two days with limited access to voice mail or email but if it's an emergency, here's the cell phone. I write it down and leave a message telling him I'm going to call his cell phone if I haven't heard by 6. I call back at 6 and leave a message. Then I send a crackberry email to Jessica letting her know that it's Thursday and it's just after 6 and I expected to hear back but I haven't heard back and the reason I'm sending the email to her is because the corporate crackberry simply will NOT bring up Joe's email address (he's new and I'm not sure of the exact spelling of his last name). I tell the email that I won't be in the office on Friday if I don't hear from someone because I don't know what I'll be walking into and I was told to stay put and not get online and I haven't. Except I read one email and it looked like a reorg and well... could somebody PulEASE call me?

Thx. Alecto.

She called at 6:30 and as far as she understood I was just going to be out for the week because there were still meetings going on all week. I said, no, they were going to touch base with me on Thursday. I was supposed to be out Tuesday through Thursday and I've been reading the subject lines on the incoming and outgoing email and I can see stuff falling all over the floor and it's making me VERY uncomfortable but I guess I'm supposed to just let that happen. I did read that one email about the reorg.

Jessica said it was probably really good I wasn't at the office this week. I agreed and told her it was probably the sanest week since I'd started but that I really needed to talk to someone before I came back to work so that I at least had some idea what I was walking into. She sort of danced around that. OK, fine. WHATever. She said she'd try to get hold of Joe and I said that was OK, I'd already talked to somebody and at least I could breathe again.

This was true. I was breathing again.

At 8:30 the phone rang.

Me:    Hi Joe.

Joe:    How did you know it was me?

Me:    You're programmed into my phone. You call once or I call you and there you are.

Joe:    It's like that Seinfeld episode...

Me:    (huh?)    Well thanks for calling but Jessica called and she was supposed to tell you it was OK and you didn't have to.

Joe:    No, no, I said I'd touch base with you on Thursday and it's just a little later on Thursday and so I'm touching base on Thursday.

Me:    OK, thanks. So I'm staying home tomorrow and I'll send the same message and I'll be in on Monday but I'd really like to know what I'm walking into.

Joe:    I'll talk to you tomorrow only not so late.

Me:    OK, Joe. Thanks.

OK. You guys forgot about me, didn't you? I get it. There's a VERY big Worldwide meeting going on this week that you all have to get through but for the love of WHATEVER... ENOUGH ALREADY! At least remember to do what you say you're going to do.Or remember what you said?

You guys are avoiding me because you're not going to fire my boss, aren't you? That's it, isn't it?

I'm on the couch at 10:30 and I'm just belligerent as all get out and I have to remind myself that all I asked for in the first place was for it to stop or at the very least a transfer and this reorg looks like an easy transfer but over the last six weeks I've gotten to the point of, listen, people, how the HELL can you be willing to keep a guy like this employed? It's not just that he's abusive, it's that he'll deliberately sabotage a project without a second thought.

I really have to let that one go.

As Shadowmoss put it... there's the stuff I can control and the stuff I can't control and it will either be there or it won't when I get back.

So I slept just fine last night. And late again this morning because the girls would really like just a little bit more of what Mom's got going on lately and sleep seems to be helping. Truth? They want DINNER, please? Seriously. They want to be fed real food.

I cut the grass yesterday. And literally scrubbed the upholstered furniture. It's still not entirely dry and it didn't quite do the trick but I'll have another go at it today. When I was at Walmart I picked up a bucket of that powdered oxy stuff because it said it worked on furniture too and I suppose it sort of did but, uh, not so much. Or sort of, but the Woolite rug cleaner works a lot better. Or maybe like a lid that needs to be loosened it got the really heavy stuff off first. Dinner was first rate. Laundry is getting done. I finally found a small bin of whole wheat flour that had become a breeding ground for cereal moths (was driving us NUTS because everything else was sealed tight or refrigerated or frozen). Simon has his 5 x 7 drying mat plus a gigantic doggy bed...

People. Listen. On the subject of doggy beds. You can go to L.L. Bean and get an extra large for $119 plus shipping (or $299) or you can go to PetSmart and get fleeced for a bit more or you can get one for $19 from Walmart. I think the Walmart doggy bed cover may wash better (actually, it should just rinse out in the sink and drip dry) in the long run. I am hoping this will encourage him to STAY THE HELL OFF THE FURNITURE.

Where was I? I'm reconnecting with my home and my life which is a very good thing. I might have had some heart palpitations last night but one of the things rushing through my head was... it might be OK not to go back there. I really want to go back there but if it's untenable it might be OK not to go back there. It's the not knowing that's got me quaking in my space boots.

Soooooo.... isn't that just something to look at? AGAIN.

Still.

WellOKFine.

I'm really happy the grass is cut. Leafy is not happy the grass is cut. She is afraid of the grass clippings. I thought it was a textural thing at first; like maybe she didn't like the feeling of damp clippings on the bottom of her paws but unlike Homer D. Dog she doesn't seem to have overly sensitive paws. Nope. Just wigged her out a little so she kept running into the bushes and getting herself all tangled up and freaked out and when she gets all freaked out she tends to forget her manners in general and made a dive for Elizabeth's dinner plate last night and got one swipe of sour cream and was instantly put to bed for the night (at 7:15 PM) with an out at 9 and then right back in. Poor kid. She's much better this morning.

No weird dreams or at least no memories of weird dreams.

I've been reading Paul Theroux's The Mosquito Coast. This goes slowly, this reading in bed at night because it costs me a little more time when I should already be asleep and this book is hard for me to read. Initially I loved it. I thought, good god, this man, Mr. Theroux, put into words these things that are hitting us upside the head like a 2x4 NOW, in 1982. I was fascinated. But then I started looking the protagonist's motivation and what he valued and what he spurned, never mind how he treated his wife, his children and the people around him (OK, trading seeds for work, not too shabby) and I started to be JUST a little bit horrified. As I moved further into the book, even though he learned that playing with chemicals and poisoning lord knows how much of the coast was maybe NOT such a great idea, the fact that he appears willing to sacrifice the lives of his family to be right has got me ready to jump feet first into the book and hang him from the nearest tree by his toenails. The book review above doesn't seem to convey that. His brilliance has become completely worthless as far as I'm concerned. As a matter of fact, it's deadly. He reminds me of my boss.

And lastly, this: Littlest step-son; you're sixteen today. Happy birthday, sweetie. I love you. I let you go at the end of the year because that seemed to be the only thing to do. This doesn't mean I don't think about you. I do. I think about you a lot and I wish you well. I hope great things for you. I hope you happiness and a wonderful life. I watch you carefully from a distance and sometimes, very rarely, your father shares some small bit of information. At some point I'm going to have to let this go too I think. But it doesn't mean I don't love you.

And if I'm right, based on what your dad and your brother did, today you are at the DMV with your dad getting your learner's permit (or you will be just as soon as school is out) and I bet you're just about wiggling out of your skin.

I love you.  

Thursday.

Well jeeze, and all that.

Yesterday was possibly the sanest day I've had in four months and this discounts the standing up to the work situation because that's work and this is home which is what actually matters. At some point something finally let loose and I got up and cleaned the bathroom. My bathroom. I'm never really sure why my bathroom is such an issue but it is. It's not even a hard bathroom to clean but I've definitely got something against it. Anyway, once the bathroom gets cleaned it's sort of got this domino effect - maybe it's a keystone? Other things started getting done until the phone rang because Elizabeth, who stays late on Mondays and Wednesdays and takes the Intermediate school bus home needed a ride, or was telling me she was going to get a ride home from a friend because the Intermediate school had half days for parent teacher conferences and I said, WAIT! I'll come get you! I can do that! Oh WOW! This is SO cool!

We stopped at the local market and picked up the makings for possibly the first really creative meal I've made in four months. Truly. Yesterday was my four month anniversary. January 9 - May 9. Damn, but that's a long time to be under constant fire.

Something about Peer nearly begging me in the parking lot after work to just STOP standing up to Boss because it was pissing him off and he just couldn't take it anymore. It was putting PEER too close to going over the edge. I'm getting ahead of myself.

Elizabeth and I got home yesterday and the cleaning continued. It's REALLY freaking dusty in here and we haven't been able to figure out why. It's not the furnace, wrong color. It isn't pollen, DEFINITELY wrong color. As it turns out, it's The Dog and his Swamp Mud which, when dry and encrusted on the floor and walked through and stirred up becomes swamp dust which settles onto absolutely everything, mostly in the main living areas.

That's nearly dry, by the way. This happens at least twice a day, maybe more. If we're quick about it, and depending on who lets him in and how long we can glare at him and keep him locked between the dining room table and the sliding glass door (where he comes in) we can keep the bulk of the dirt

in one location until it can be swept up and later the residual vacuuming happens. This doesn't address what's embedded in his fur and comes off later in the chunks that drop on the ground or worse when he flops himself up against the furniture or WHEN SOMEBODY FORGETS TO PUT A CHAIR ON THE COUCH AND HE SPENDS THE DAY SLEEPING ON IT! (that somebody, by the way, is me)

I need a large indoor outdoor mat because I can't continue to mop that particular 6 x 8 drying spot. Also, you should see the way he sneaks himself out. He has to wiggle on his belly under the dining room table and across the hardwood floor until he's in the living room with us. Which is exactly where his humongous St. Bernard heart is really needing to be. It's very hard to keep him out.

So I really need to clean the upholstered furniture today and run some errands that will include a stop at Walmart for that mat and a few other things but there was last night to look at and I might as well just look at it. Actually, I probably ought to look at the night before while I'm at it but going backwards.

I realized I didn't want to go to bed. That's symptomatic of serious stress. In other words; I don't want to face tomorrow so I'm not going to go to bed. I'm just going to sit on the couch and watch bad TV until I can talk myself into crawling into bed because if I don't I'm going to be brain dead... Eeeeee.

I recognized exactly what was going on. Oh crap. You know, I did look at the crackberry periodically and I only saw the subject lines but I saw MY projects falling on the floor and I know I'm being thrown under the bus and here comes Thursday and omg they're going to fire my ass for cause no matter what he's done to me and I don't have it in me to fight anymore.

And that's flat out ridiculous. And even if it isn't flat out ridiculous, does it really matter when it comes right down to it? What's the worst thing that can happen? Not worth going into. I have a number of back doors, most of which will be bloody uncomfortable but we'll be OK. Do I want to work for a company that would do this? Uh, NO. Anyway, that isn't really likely. However, that is the sort of shit that goes through my head and I don't suppose that's all that unusual.

So I'm laying in bed with the sleep music and The Dog locked out in the hall because I recognize I won't be able to sleep with his snoring and I CANNOT fall asleep. Not only can't I fall asleep but my entire body is tense like a board and my heart rate is up and this is NOT good. I don't need to drink another glass of wine. If the first two didn't do the trick another one won't help; I'll just wake up with a hangover. I lay there surrendered to the voices in my head. I listen to the entire two hours of my playlist, or at least I think I do. I listen to one email after another buzz on the iPhone/iPod - these are the spam that come in at night so I know I'm awake to some extent. At 6:30 the alarm goes off and I get up to get Elizabeth up. She looks at me and says, 'you didn't sleep. Go back to bed. I'll be fine.' I go back to bed and 37 minutes later she kisses me good-bye with this word...

yesibrushedmyteethandatebreakfastandbrushedmyhairandIhavemyjacketandI'llseeyouwhenIgethomeandthe dogisbackinthehouseIloveyouokbye.

I went back to sleep. An hour later I woke up and took three tylenol because I felt like I'd been run over by a truck. This is what comes of going rigid and holding yourself that way for however many hours. It sure as hell wasn't from cleaning the bathroom, dusting and vacuuming.

So now I'm awake and the sun is out and I'm going to finally cut down the meadow in the front yard and run those errands and a bunch of other things and wait for that call from HR. And if it doesn't come I'm going to make the call myself and if I don't get an answer I'm going to call the cell phone of Boss's Boss's Boss. What I'm not going to do is sit here and hyperventilate.

OK, night before last or early morning dream or whatever.

Last week I had to meet with Nomans to discuss a few things. Hadn't seen him since just before Christmas when I was leaving the state and that did me a world of good, this physical removal from his space. He'd asked for something that just sent me right over the edge and I took him apart for it and then sat down with him and had a conversation I didn't realize I needed to have. The difference this time was that when he gave me the usual "I would NEVER do that to you..." my response was, "I don't CARE what you would NEVER do, I CARE what you can or cannot legally do." We are well beyond me hearing and or believing or desperately wanting to believe what comes out of your mouth.

He made some statement about selling the house when Elizabeth turned 18. I may or may not do that; it all depends on what I stand to lose or not lose in seven years. I realize it's incredibly uncomfortable for him to still be legally bound to the mortgage without having any rights at all but I had a moment of panic until I realized the only stipulations where if I started missing payments or cohabiting. I made it clear that I had no intention of cohabiting. Not going to put Elizabeth through that again. Not going to risk that fragile heart. And if I miss mortgage payments that affects him as much as it affects me except at this point he's got more to lose because I'm already so damn scathed and he's as clean as a whistle. He's buying investment property. I'm in his way. I did give him the notarized letter stating that I made the mortgage payments because its true but he's still on the hook and nothing is going to change that. I can't refinance and get him off the mortgage given my current circumstances. Stuck. Stuck. Stuck.

Ah, well, the shit's coming around to bite you in the ass finally, isn't it?

So in the early morning when you tend to remember your dreams because you wake up here is what threw me up in the air and dropped me spastically thrashing on the ground.

I was living in a house. This one, I think, but it was different. It bore some resemblance to the house my parents owned when I was eight, but bigger. The layout was similar. Numbah One Son lived at home again because he needed to save on rent for some reason. All that was good and copacetic. Cletus was off wherever she was off. Nomans had come back home. I have absolutely no idea where Elizabeth was in all this. Nomans said, "I love you but I can't sleep in the same bed with you because I don't have those sort of feelings and desires for you anymore so this is the best I have to offer." I agreed to this because it was the best I was going to get.

I was in my room doing something. It must have been early but not too early morning. We were all in our rooms in our bathrobes I think. There was a knock on the front door and Nomans went to answer it. I was getting dressed to go out and see to the visitor. I came out just in time to see Nomans hand a ten month old baby to Numbah One Son and start to shut the door, desperately trying to hide the baby before I saw it.

What the hell are you doing?

Nothing, he's just going to hold the baby. I have a client in the living room.

There was a woman in the living room looking desperate, helpless. Just the way he likes them.

He's been working as a quasi PI for women going through bad divorces. Women who need forensic accountants. Well, he would know where to look and he would be drawn to women who need him, but not too much. Just enough to worship him a bit, but not get too close.

I could see it. He'd moved home in order to protect his investment. He was paying rent to make sure I was paying the mortgage. Just enough rent. Home to keep an eye on me. Home to hold the emotional strings just tight enough.

And I saw it. Right then. And completely flipped out on him. I grabbed the baby out of Numbah One Son's arms and handed him back to his mother.

Get out of my house!

I turned and looked at Nomans in the bathrobe I gave him maybe six or seven years ago. Strangely, bizarrely, although not really because he tends to show up in clothing I've given him. Once when he wanted something really badly that he thought for sure I wouldn't give him he showed up wearing the old ratty t-shirt I'd held onto like a security blanket that later Elizabeth held onto the same way and sobbed into nightly until we both let it go and I returned it to him letting him know exactly what it was for both of us and why we were returning it. Seriously. I wonder what he tells himself?

Get out of my house!

GET OUT!

Yesterday when I was looking at my stats I saw that someone had entered through a post from July, 2010 called The App Gap, probably from googling the word Inconceivable which gives you a photograph of Vizinni from The Princess Bride shouting INCONCEIVABLE (at least I think it was Vizinni). So this was a post somewhere in the middle of twelve posts where I document the beginning of the relationship to I guess the marriage or just into it or something like that and I realized those words are still out there, they'll always still be out there. The motivation is irrelevant; it can shift on a dime. The only thing that matters is what motivates me. I don't care what you say you will or won't do, I care about what you CAN or CANNOT do.

Well that's a freaking relief.

So, regardless of the outcome, today or tomorrow or whatever, there has been an incredible shift in my being out of the state. Maybe it's been my complete attention focused on survival but I don't think so because in the past he would have been the first person I'd have run to. This time he knew very little until close to the end when I had to explain why my brain was pretty much shot and why I was looking for a possible way out and why there might be an issue with mortage payments if things went horribly wrong.

So, here we go. If you don't hear from me for awhile. Don't worry.

Oh, I'm pretty sure I can post from the iPhone. I'll do my best if it comes to that. At least an 'I'm alive and kicking post.' I can apparently comment from the iPhone although it's still hard as all get out to read the second word in the comment guard.

 

4,200 Cubic Inches

I don't know that this is *the* back pack but it might as well be. I saw the picture once and it's close enough (and I'd be willing to bet last year's model in a slightly different color can be had for half the cost on ebay). Same size roughly, bottom container is a stuff sack for her sleeping bag and that's part of those 4,200 cubic inches.

Talk about re-evaluating what's really necessary.

I've been watching Cletus for the last month or so work this all out. I've kept my mouth firmly SHUT (OK, jaw wired if we're going to be honest) with the exception of a few small issues that had she not resolved would have resulted in a phone call to her uncle leaving her just enough time to handle said issues or bail on the trip... (don't make me tell on you because I will...)

You choose your battles especially when it comes to watching your kids step off the sidewalk. I chose the hard line; the one that had to do with her physical well being and would very likely have resulted in a major medical emergency somewhere in the middle of nowhere had she neglected to see a doctor before departure. The rest of it? On her.

OK, there were a few 'suggestions'. You know, like, 'how about you get that second debit card so I can give you enough of a transfusion to get your ass out of trouble (and get home) if it comes to that?' But it would have been OK if she'd gone off without doing it. Just a little more complicated. Also, 'how about you get your cell phone situation handled so that you're actually enabled globally?' Explaining to most Americans just exactly how backasswards we are in terms of global immobility can be extremely challenging. No. Your cell phone will not work outside of the United States. No. Not at all. Dead as a doornail. Yes. I know this for a fact. I promise you. It will not work. What do you have to do? Well, with that phone you have to upgrade to something that will actually take the sim card that will allow global calls. Or... you can pick up a burner phone in Europe with a pay as you go plan but  you probably don't want to rely on that. Then I took my foot off that gas line too. She got it resolved. Probably not the way I would have resolved it but then who the hell knows what I would have done in the long run and besides, this isn't my party. It's hers.

So back to the 4,200 cubic inches. And 83 days. Yeah, that. In the beginning when she was shopping online for what she might wear while trekking across Europe she came up with these lovely wrinkle proof, shove in a bag dresses, very much like what she wears now because they're comfortable and pretty. I just looked at her. At this point I had visions of Cletus dragging all of my luggage across Europe like her very own pack mule and then losing bits and pieces of it along the way.

The other day she showed up wearing these (except in black):

If I'd had any fluids in my mouth they'd have either been through my nose or I'd have required suction.

Me:    WTF?

Cletus:    What?!

Me:    What the hell are you wearing?

Cletus:    Capris? Why?

Me:    Um. Do you see what's written on them?

Cletus:    Oh, yeah, that.

Me:    Do you know what that is?

Cletus:    No. No I do not and you probably better not tell me either.

Me:    Why do you have them because you are now a walking advertisement for

Cletus:    STOP!

Me:    OK, why are you wearing a pair of capris that say Zumba on them? I swear to you, you would be horrified if you knew what that was.

And if you knew Cletus you would know that she would about drop dead and I CANNOT WAIT to show her a video when she gets home.

Cletus:    I know, Stephanie (her travel mate) told me that and laughed her ass off when I bought them but I told her not to tell me so she didn't.

Me:    So?

Cletus:    They aren't cotton, they're exactly what I need and they were cheap.

Me:    Huh?

Cletus:    This is what I'm wearing all over Europe. I have two pair and long pants and cotton is BAD BAD BAD, Mom.

Me:    Yes. I know.

Cletus:    Have you seen how much this stuff costs?

Me:    Yes. I know.

Cletus:    Well, these were cheap because there was something wrong with them and I got two pair.

Me:    Underwear?

Cletus:    YES!

Me:    How many?

Cletus:    Oh for the love of God! Seven.

Me:    OK fine.

Me:    For warmth?

Cletus:    Pulls at cotton sweatshirt with flying piggy she happens to be wearing.

At this point I shut my mouth after muttering something about rain gear but I know they've been going back and forth about this, the two of them, every single night for longer than I've actually been aware. They've examined and re-examined every last thing they're taking right down to the shared hairbrush. At one point there was an argument over undergarments which Cletus won based on a difference in body type that I'm not going to go into other than to tell you I had to put a pillow over my head in the living room to muffle the raging, giggling, hyena like hysteria. It was either that or run out of the house until it passed.

We got on the subject of footwear last night.

Me:    So. What's going on your feet?

Cletus:    I just bought some flip-flops to go with the one dress I packed for nice.

Me:    And for the other 82 days?

Cletus:    Sneakers.

Me:    What sneakers? I haven't seen sneakers on your feet in years. You wear strappy sandals and, uh, your rat stompers (doc martins but not nearly so comfy). And Ughs. You wear Ughs.

Cletus:    Yeah, well, remember that pair you bought me about five years ago? I probably only wore them a couple of times because I never really went to gym class so they look mostly clean and I'm allowed to pack four pairs of socks...

Me:    Cletus. I've seen what you call socks and a five year old pair of sneakers that have been rotting under your bed aren't going to cut it. Your feet are going to give out on you at the end of day one and you're going to be about as sorry as sorry gets.

Cletus:    Do YOU want to buy me sneakers?

Me:    Walking shoes. Yes I do.

Cletus:    Well, we don't exactly have time, they won't arrive before I leave unless we pay extra for shipping.

Me:    Cletus. We do not buy footwear through the mail (mostly).

Cletus:    Oh.

Me:    Also. Your socks won't be the kind of socks you think and you'll have two pair. Don't lose them. You'll be sorry.

Me:    Oh, and Cletus?

Cletus:    Yeah, Mom?

Me:    Whatever you do, don't look up Zumba until you get back, OK?

Cletus:    Yeah, whatever. Mom? Do I need a bathing suit? I hate bathing suits. I could just swim in my quick dry Zumba pants and get a Zumba shirt with something wrong with it couldn't I?

Me:    You sure as shit can, Honey.

 

No. Really. I meant it.

10:45 AM Monday Morning by Corporate IM:

Me:    Hi Jessica, are you free right now?

Jessica:    I'm working from home.

Me:    I really need to talk to someone in HR right now.

Jessica:    Can you find Joe?

Me:    No. I've been looking everywhere for Joe and I can't find him. I know he's in the building but I can't find him and I couldn't catch up with him on Friday.

Jessica:    Can you go see Boss's Boss's Boss?

Me:    No. It's not appropriate. I have something to say to HR right now and then I'm leaving the building but I'm not leaving the building until I've made an official statement to someone in HR your paygrade or higher.

Jessica:    Are you ok?

Me:    Absolutely not.

Jessica:    OK, I'll look for Joe.

Me:    That would be a good idea and in the mean time I'll look at the org chart.

So. My done button popped. What can I say? It would have been totally UNCOOL to have marched into Boss's Boss's Boss's office, plopped myself into one of his chairs and announced that I was walking out on him in the middle of a shit storm because well, we were in the middle of a shit storm which is exactly why my done button popped.

This is the sort of thing you say to HR. You let HR take care of mopping the employee relations shit off the floor. And besides, there really wasn't a damn thing I could do about it at that point. The crap had escalated out of control and best I could tell it wasn't going to get good anytime soon. I did want one thing mentioned though. Please stop this lunatic from making another change to another database and implementing new process right before Peer goes on vacation because that just about guarantees more shit storm and best I can tell IT'S NOT CRITICAL.

Just like nothing else we did this quarter that caused the shit storm was critical.

And as the consultant kept saying over and over again when I kept saying... but you still haven't answered my question which is, is this change critical right now...

it's really up to Boss.

Yeah, I get that.

That might have been the done button part.

So this is what happened.

I was on the phone in one of the alcoves where you take personal calls.

Joe the AWOL HR guy walks by.

I run into the hallway after him and say WE HAVE TO TALK RIGHT NOW.

We go into an inner conference room with glass doors which he watches nervously for the entire twenty minutes we're in there because I'm a little messy plus I'm guessing nobody wants the cat out of the bag right now and nobody wants Alecto getting nuclear on their asses just right this second.

I explain just exactly what has set me off up to and including a shit list from Sunday night and Monday morning that could probably fill up three of the eight original pages.

All of this could be lived with.

I'm just not going to anymore.

So you can fire me or you can fire him or you can move him six rows down the cube farm or you can have one giant slug fest, I really don't care. What I will tell you is I won't look him in the eye again. I won't have another conversation with him. I won't work with him right now. I've had enough. I'm not willing to be sedated just to get through the day.

There are just way too many blank spots in my day full of staticky white noise. Got it, Joe?

Joe got it.

I stopped in on Boss's Boss's Boss and let him know my done button was popped. He wasn't surprised.

I left him with my cell phone because I told him I had no intention of turning on my computer.

I stopped by my own cube farm and told them Elizabeth was sick and I had to leave. She was sick. This part was true.

I got a call later that evening from Joe at HR.

I'm on a three day leave. I'm to send an email to Boss every morning telling him I'm sick. Not working from home. Sick. On actual sick leave. Period. I am not to respond to a single email. Actually, I'm probably not supposed to open any email because that will make me crazy and I'll want to logon and start fixing the shit because I can see the shit falling all over the floor.

Not gonna do it.

So. The dog. He's huge, smelly and some guy left a comment on here about him being of obvious mixed breed or something like that and when I read it through my email feed I laughed so hard I nearly peed. His breader would have a whole barnyard of baby cows. I didn't have it in me to respond. Actually, I don't think I can respond, at least not in the comment section so...

To the nice guy who read the fermented banana bread recipe and left the comment:

Henri de Saint Simon is most assuredly a Saint Bernard and had he been a little less assertive he'd still be intact and his breeder would most likely be knocking some AKC socks off here in the Northeast for starters. He's a throwback to an older time when the breed was much larger, the head broader and the shoulders absolutely massive. Actually, she breeds them that way but he's probably one of the best she's thrown. Unfortunately or otherwise, depending on your perspective, Mr. Simon was purchased and raised to be a working dog and is therefore absolutely unfit for the ring. By the time she got a look at him it was too late. He's particular about people, places and what he considers, uh, um, a possible problem.

In another time he would have been considered heroic. In today's world of plush toys and hypersensitive peta people, a 200 pound farm and household protecting hunk is considered a danger to society. He don't get off the property much (except to go on vacation and I'm not sure I've been forgiven for that yet).

Now where was I? He's absolutely disgusting at the moment. Only I love him right now. OK, Leafy love him too but she licks the drool and slobber as it falls off his jowls so I'm not sure she's credible. He needs a bath in absolutely the worst way. He's dropping fur in literal chunks. I broke a dog brush on him the other day. I think I just need to start using the rake. You think I'm joking. I can't keep him out of the swamp. I don't know what the hell I was thinking when I decided to fence some of that nice swamp IN instead of OUT. So we mop all the floors once a week. It's not enough.

Nobody from this county is allowed to set foot in this house ever. Once that swamp has dried up and his coat has blown out a bit and I've got that infernal plumbing problem resolved THEN maybe I'll let people in. Until then. Well. I live with a 200 pound, fur dropping, mud slopping, slobbering, farting, belching, great big, galumphing kissy kissy face half mask punkin pie St. Bernard. And his side kick, Leafy the Terriorist.

First Quarter Close (MoFos and Crack Hos)

God. Probably I should go back and read the last post but I'd probably get side tracked and wander off before I got around to actually writing this post and well, that would sort of suck.

I was going to title this post MoFos and Crack Hos.

But I couldn't come up with any Crack Hos. To speak of. Maybe by the time I get to the end I'll think of some and then I'll have a good enough reason to change the title.

So.

Nothing has been happening. We've been in a holding pattern BECAUSE we have to get through the quarter close and I haven't shown any signs of being:

1. immediately litigious
2. a flight risk
3. in immediate danger of drowning
4. imminently homicidal

Apparently Sr. Management needs to weigh the cost on the business. Or take into account the cost on or to the business or decide what they're going to do or

Whatevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvver.

Yes, yes, I hear you. I do indeed hear you. You people are indeed in hot water and this is going to hurt a wicked lot no matter how you slice it AND as it turns out you're going to have to take this all the way to the CFO herself from who's lips to God were uttered the very words...

thou shalt not tolerate a bad manager to exist in the ranks.

Or something like that.

The reason I THOUGHT something might be occurring is because he seemed to be acting like he was being coached now and then but as it turns out that isn't the case, at least not officially and as I happened to mention to my boss's boss's boss when I finally popped in (at the request of HR after a small confession on my part), it's entirely possible he knows which boss's boss's boss agreed at which point I shrugged and said

oh well.

Mostly I'm OK. I have small meltdowns now and then. One of them was in the HR bunker at the desk of the Employee Relations person I go to see for updates. Not that there are many updates because everyone is very busy (including me) and we're in a holding pattern. I burst into tears the last time I was in there because he'd just been particularly heinous and I think the timing was just off. Mostly this stuff just slides off my shoulders until I need a fresh coat of sealant or I get up and let him have it or something.

Shit has been hitting the fan EVERYWHERE this quarter. See, THIS is what happens when you make multiple database changes on the fly and you don't put them into a test environment and you don't THINK them through. Shit breaks. FOR EXAMPLE. IF. you change the name of a program member and that program member is later used in a formula, say somewhere else up the line in the database and you don't freakin' think to even do a search on the db for the member formerly known as... and we're well past the age of compilers... well, the formula will simply fail to load because, you know, you are now in this day and age permitted to build, load and launch databases with as many bad formulas in them as you'd like and then when you have one of your MORE CHALLENGED EMPLOYEES (that poor freaking man) validate this piece of shit and it blows all to hell...

Let's just say there was an awful lot of this.

One of my dbs, for example, was raped, pillaged and burned about 2 weeks ago. I threw my hands up while it was happening (for any geeks who care: it's a triangulated datbase. You have one that holds a base structure and does a bunch of cool stuff. You have another that is one of the primary statistical dbs for the company. The 'front end' is built from a combination of the metadata from these two and the new quarterly data). And when it was time to build the front end and the damn thing blew six ways to hell I sighed, packed up my bags (on Friday at 5 after spending a few hours with a mangled front end that looked like it had been fed through a cheese grinder at high speed (yeah, you can do that to a database, really you can) and the original developer because thankfully Boss had removed himself from the premises for a haircut. Or something.) and decided to work it out this weekend.

Holy Mother Mary and Joseph and Sweet Baby Jeebus and All of the Above.

I'm not touching that thing and it's due tomorrow.

Anyway, back to Thursday I think.

One of these clusterfucks had been found and fixed. I found and fixed one of them and then I told Peer. Hey Peer, you're going to find this problem in that db you're putting together. Let's fix it. So we did. I swear to you, I watched him fix and save the damn thing. Time comes to validate and it doesn't validate so I call him over to my desk which is top in a row of three and we walk through the validation and I say:

Me:    Hey! I know what this is!

Him:    You do? (beading sweat drips onto my desk and I hand him a wad of napkins)

Me:    Yep. It's that fix we fixed that apparently didn't fix.

Him:    Squeek. I fixed it. I know I did.

Me:    I know. I saw you fix it. Don't worry.

Him:    But how can that...

Me:    Let's open it up and have a look (opens db.... has a look under the hood) Hey! Would you look at that! That bad formula is still bad!

Him:    Whimper.

Me:    Um, Dude. You cannot get upset over this. It's a quick ten minute fix and then you're off and running. You don't need a rebuild. And remember what what's his name said? He said, ask yourself this: 'Are there any dead babies?'

Him:    ....

Me:    Peer. Are. There. Any. Dead. Babies in this database?

Him:    (grinning) Nope.

Me:    OK good. This just means you and me messed up and saved a change somewhere else where it needed to be saved anyway and that's pretty damn funny and then I started to laugh and he laughed too and I hit save and we waited... (it doesn't take too long).

Boss:    That better be nervous laughter.

Me:    It's not. We don't have anything to be nervous about with this one. It's resolved; we're good.

Boss:    Then you two are a word I can't use in a corporate environment.

Me:    Static and white noise...............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

 

Wow. I just lost half my post. Well. I guess you get the point.

So, hey, this is important (that is not):

I realize the grass needs to be cut. It's not a priority. She is though. This is her last year. There won't be anymore of these pre-recital pre-photoshoot things. That in itself is a story but the time to choose came about two years earlier than it probably should have. So she chose out. Poor kid. Lucky kid. She got a full dose of heartache and drama but missed every bit of the physical wear and tear that was right around the corner.

Remind me to get the yellow on her face toned down before June. Gak.

CLETUS WAS ADMITTED TO SOUTHERN AS A FULL TIME ON CAMPUS STUDENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(and will be moving in shortly after returning from Europe)

Cletus goes to Orientation On May 29 - May 30. Or maybe it's May 31 and June 1. That actually sounds more like it. Because she flies to Italy on June 2. Heh. Then she comes home on August 22 or 23 and school starts um, pretty soon. Like that week. The very next day maybe.

So. There you go. I'm still kicking. I don't actually have any chickens and there isn't a damn thing in the garden but it's not too late. And you know what? It doesn't actually matter right now. Not just now. 

Because I might be really tired but I'm nowhere near demoralized and I've been doing something I've never in my entire life been able to come anywhere near doing. I don't think people do this very often at all. Or at least they don't do it and not lose their shit anyway.

Because, see, if you go here, which was just, oh, I don't know 42 days ago? I was suffering from something I somewhat affectionately referred to as mild cognitive impairment.

This bitch ain't NOWHERE NEAR IMPAIRED AT THE MOMENT.

Everybody clear?

OK good. Moving right along now.

 

 

Quitcher Bitchin

I have no idea what happened this week other than I know I'm irritating the hell out of my boss because I've hit the 'I don't give a shit' stage. I think that's what happens when you have a pretty good idea they can't fire you without consequences. So when he says the sky is green I'm OK with it until he tells me it's blue the next minute and I'm in trouble for acting on the assertion that it's green and then I remind him that he said it was blue five minutes ago or last week or what have you and could he please be clear? And also, if he'd like me to undo something I've done based on the premise that the sky is green but now it's blue again I'd be happy to undo it, all the while implying that I'll also be happy to redo it when the sky turns green next time. Just so long as he's clear. And I'm clear he's not clear.

This makes him turn red in the face but he's got to hold his temper in check because somehow he knows something's going on. I don't know if it has something to do with the conversation he and I had awhile back in that closed room when I told him he scared me or the lunch I had with HR followed by several unexplained absences by me followed by an abrupt attitude change followed by what happens during an investigation, a confidential investigation that he won't know a thing about but all things get put on hold, come to a dead stand still... new projects, reviews, anything at all and his spidey sense, which is pretty finely tuned anyway, has got to have the hairs on the back of his neck standing up anyway.

But I don't really know for sure. I doubt anyone has ever stood up and publicly said, 'I really don't understand, I thought you said...blah blah blah... just last week and so I... blah blah blah... just now because you said we should stand up and take initiative and, well, I did that but I can undo it right now if you'd like' and sure enough THAT thing really will send him right into a tail spin. Sounds crazy, right? I know it does, but it's true, it's enough to make the veins throb in his neck. Weird, huh?

There have been a couple of incidents like this. There are two things that should happen. The first is that we really should not do anything without explicit instruction and/or agreement which allows him to beat the hell out of us for needing to be spoon-fed and supports his belief and very public statements that we're idiots while keeping us from learning much of anything which also forgives the fact that he's still the only person who can viably keep the ship afloat. The second is that when and if we do run into some sort of conflict; let's say he makes a mistake or changes the direction or color of the sky or something he wanted just didn't turn out the way it might have, one of us is to take the fall and apologize, better yet, grovel, immediately. I've never managed to do that at all; never actually considered it although I did fall directly onto my sword the first time something blew up in my face because I found out or discovered the assumption that someone had my back was wrong. Peer grovels freaking BRILLIANTLY. The best I've managed to do is look him in the eye and say, 'OK, I'll fix that.' Or, 'tell me when you want me to touch that again' which is promptly followed by, 'I expect you to be able to set your own priorities but we've been down this path already.

So there is the insanity I've presented to HR and also, of late, to my boss's boss's boss. In small bites.

With regard to the investigation I really have no idea what's going on. My boss's boss came back from vacation this week so he missed all the fun the week before. I actually have no idea what he knows or doesn't know. Conceivably he might be completely in the dark. Having given this some thought, there is considerable accountability at his door. You know who and how and what you've got working for it. You're completely non-confrontational but you are still absolutely accountable for what's happening in your department and most importantly you are the first line of defense if there's the slightest possibility that your very public company might be subject to a law suit. I'm not the first employee to suffer this sort of abuse but I am the first to stand up and say STOP THIS SHIT RIGHT THIS SECOND if you discount the guy who sent the letter on his way out the door and I think they sort of have to because the investigation turned up nothing, I've been told by my boss's boss's boss. Huh. There are three other former employees who still work for the company. I think in the course of this investigation they talked. Well, I think at least two of them talked because there would be personal and professional motivation for talking.

Anyway, back to the bit about standing up to my boss. It's driving my peer nuts. It's making him hyperventilate. It's scaring the shit out of him. He's waiting for my boss to blow. He actually asked me in the parking lot to stop. I looked him dead in the eye and said.

No.

Me:    I'm sorry, Peer, I can't do that. I'm not willing to NOT stand up to this guy anymore and it's not like I'm being rude about it.

Peer:    But he gets really mad!

Me:    I can't help that.

Peer:    But we're all going to suffer!

Me:    Well, that's a problem, isn't it?

Peer:    What are we going to do?

Me:    I don't know what you're going to do but I'm going to do my damn job and keep documenting it. He can't have it both ways. Sorry.

Peer:    I'm telling you, this isn't going to end well.

Me:    Like it's been going along really great so far? And you're OK with this?

Peer:    I've had worse bosses.

Me:    REALLY?!

Peer:    Yes.

Me:    Wow.

I'm not sure I'm buying this. Not really. This guy is too close to the edge and our boss is too close to the edge and productivity is too close to an unacceptable low for a publicly traded company with a very tight budget and I'm sort of wondering how you can remain employed for close to 30 years and do your job well (the only place he ever worked before now) with a boss worse than that even if it was just for a short period of time. Who knows. I'm thinking it's hyperbole. Who knows. He's terrified. Powerless. Sucks to be him. Sucks to be me. Sucks less now than it did a few weeks ago.

I thought I had a worse boss once too but when it came right down to it I had a worse HR department and afterward a far worse company to work for although I suppose the jury's out on that because I don't have an afterward yet and I'm not behaving badly. I wasn't afraid of the boss at the castle the way I'm afraid of this guy. She might have sunk her fingernails into my arm one time outside the elevator of the forth floor, building two in a fit of rage but I wouldn't have been afraid of her in a dark alley or even a parking lot at night and in a room with a closed door I wouldn't have been all that worried either.

I'll do just about anything to avoid walking out of the building with him alone and if it was dark out there I suppose I'd do it but I'd be thinking hard about the number of cameras and how loud I could scream because honestly, once he gets to the cornered rat stage... I once had a project manager who threw a chair at another project manager and YES, people DO lose control of themselves.

So where was I? I don't know what's going on with the investigation and I'm not asking. I'm just continuing to do my job the best I can in the current environment and I did talk to my boss's boss's boss again yesterday because I could and he asked if I would like to meet once a week to talk and I said yes, that would be good. Later that made me wonder just how long this was going to take and then I realized I wasn't really sure I cared all that much. I took the opportunity to fill him in on a couple of this week's incidents. This is at least a good opportunity to get it off my chest and at least make sure SOMEBODY knows A) what's happening, B) what I'm doing about it and C) how Peer is responding to the environment.

Because at some point Peer is going to break. In one direction or another.

I do wonder if we've all got the same thing on our mind.

Could we just please get through the close, finish up the current project and at least settle down the ship before we blow the place up?

I said that myself just last week. We need to get through the close as smoothly as possible. Last close was a complete clusterfuck. We can't have that again this quarter. I don't care WHAT he tells you, we DON'T actually know what we're doing yet and we could be dropping the ball all over the place. Introduce chaos and we're hosed.

Oh hell, I don't know anything. Not really. Well that's not true. I know I'm behaving differently.

Now let's talk about the weather around here.

People are bitching again. Stop bitching, people. Seriously. Cut that shit out. It wasn't a very cold winter and I'm OK with that. We got most of our snow during that freak late October storm that left us without power for 8 days and canceled Halloween. The ground never really got a good hard freeze and by the time spring rolled around it was sort of a non-event. One day I noticed daffodils lining the front walk and thought, huh. Whatever. (OK, some of that non-reaction can be blamed on my job but certainly not all of it)

The people who depend on plowing during the winter didn't make any money. They made a boat load of money last year and no money the year before (because it hardly snowed AT ALL winter of 2010 but winter 2009 it snowed like the nuclear winter it felt like but was put to shame by winter of 2011 when we accumulated 9 feet). So this happens, this on again off again cyclical business. I was just chatting on facebook this morning about the weather and it's cycles and people bitching and hyperbole and all that. Hottest spring every, driest this, coldest that, dampest ever, the world is ending. Look. It's not that I'm not aware that things are changing. They are, no doubt about it. However. I'd like to point out a few things because when we make giant piles of poo out of, well, I don't know, find a metaphor that works, we miss the fine print.

My birthday is April 12. I've had 48 of them. Sometimes my birthday is on Easter. Or at least on or around Easter. Sometimes it snows on my birthday, or at least on or around my birthday. I am fairly certain that in the last decade sometime it has snowed AFTER my birthday at least once. I can also remember a February or two when it got nice and toasty. I remember being at a wedding the third week in April when it might have broken 90 F. And then was cold as a MoFo the very next day. What I don't particularly recall is a winter where the ground didn't really freeze but I'm willing to bet that's because I wasn't paying attention.

Comments started popping up on facebook about a month ago - plant now! plant early! plant a lot! I think they meant trees and shrubs? I sure hope they didn't mean annuals. Things will grow like weeds! Earliest spring on record! Go! Go! Go!

Don't put your tomato plants in before Mother's Day, says I. Seriously. You'll be sorry.

Shut Up! Says they. Record spring! Haven't you heard of Global Warming? God, it's HOT out here! No spring, I hate this! We've gone straight to summer! (it's 75 F and sunny at the time of that statement)

We live in New England where they say, if you don't like the weather, wait a minute.

Have we become so transient that we are no longer from New England and our tribal knowledge is gone?

Oh wait. I live in the tri-state area. This isn't really New England. Nobody here is really from here.

So listen up all you tri-state whiners...

IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS!

Stop fussing.

Crankypants is going back to her corner now. I have work to do. It's the middle of the close. I have at least learned NOT to communicate with my boss during weekend work. I save it all up for when he's back in the office. That way I'm not tormented and I get a lot more work done. Also, it's a damn good thing I LIKE what I do.

But Wait! There's More!

OMG - I just found these posted on the NYE Contra website. Who knew.

This is me having a REALLY good night. Absolutely zero alcohol involved. Try it sometime. Just a thought (not that I have anything against alcohol, mind you, I'm just sayin', we seem to have lost some things...).

Yeah, he really did wear that tux and his beautiful wife wore black velvet and they happen to be two of the best dancers I know. Haven't seen either of them since New Year's Eve but maybe if I went to Branford... I'm wearing this red meat sticker on my chest... the kind that reads 'special'

I made new friends. I lost the red sticker once but got another.

Gratuitous shot.We just looked really happy.

You can see Elizabeth dancing in the crowd. She's got her convertible tights rolled up. The man in the dress kilt has a portable oxygen tank. When it's empty he sits down and that's that. If you want to dance you can dance. Period. I haven't seen a wheel chair yet but I wouldn't be surprised.

End of the night wrap up. We are the organizers and that's the caller and the band behind us on the stage and the man with the microphone was last night's caller (you'll have to read the post below).

It isn't that I can't post...

it's that I don't particularly feel like posting.I think once having confessed I'm living in a marginal state of disgust.

So here's what happened. I turned in my 8 pages in a semi dark room. I think I probably mentioned that already. I reviewed the contents with the two HR representatives, the incoming and outgoing and then at the end of our allotted time I bolted out of the room because I wasn't willing to face the Spanish Inquisition if my boss happened to figure out I was MIA for longer than it might take to feel faint in the ladies room. And then later that week, or was it next? I think it was the end of the same week, I met with the employee relations HR person and the incoming HR rep and the outgoing HR rep and we sort of revisited things and I realized an investigation really was about to launch.

I was CLEAR. AGAIN. that exposing me in any way, shape or form would result in a blood bath and that I was perfectly willing to participate fully and continue doing my job to the best of my ability that we had entered the quarterly close and the full force of the pressure cooker was just going to make things worse anyway. Translate: Don't expect me to come to any mid day meetings.

I ran away at the end of that meeting too. For some reason they're continuously surprised by this. I'm not sure what part of I CAN'T AFFORD TO GET CAUGHT OFF THE RESERVATION they're missing although I do think they're starting to catch on. I ran into the internal recruiter on the way out of that meeting and you could see the hair stand up on the back up his neck. His bat radar shrieked at me:

WHAT'S WRONG?!!!! WHY ARE YOU BEHIND THE HR BUNKER WALLS? I HAVEN'T GOT MY COMMISSION YET? WTF, WOMAN?     

Benefits, buddy, just benefits, relax.

I knew I needed to catch up with the employee relations woman and make sure she had a few names and emails and I didn't get there until Friday which wasn't such a good thing as far as I was concerned. Delay and all that. I needed to forward two emails and provide names of witlesses. Yeah, you read that right. The public humiliation was in front of my peer and the consultant and whoever else might have heard it in the cube farm.

You're not going to bring a consultant into this. Like my peer is going to open his mouth? He was hired by one of his best friends and even if he's being terrorized on a regular basis he just doesn't have it in him. I'll give you names anyway; it's OK.

Also, I know I'm supposed to speak with my boss's boss's boss. Just so I have someone to talk to but I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to say to him. I also know I can't really be seen hanging out in his office all that long either. I go there for cookies now and then but that's about it.

So Friday.

I march into her office and I find out an investigation's been going on quietly all week. So the guy's been leaving bodies in his wake for a very long time. Like this is news? I don't know who they've been talking to but I can guess. I know they haven't talked to my peer yet because they're saving him for last. I'm in there, by the way, because my boss was working from home although that doesn't mean he isn't looking for us online on a fairly regular basis and isn't checking our meeting status. He does and he did. I still don't want to be gone too long.

I don't know what they're going to do but I find out that they haven't told anyone in the department anything. My boss's boss's boss knows there's an investigation but he doesn't know a damn thing about it and they won't tell him. His boss is in the same boat and boy are they upset. I don't blame them. I'd be in a serious state of freak out if this had been happening on my watch right under my nose and I'd missed it.

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!

Missed it? Are ya freakin' nuts? You can't bloody well tell me you don't know you've got an asshole working for you leaving blood, guts, gore and dead bodies in his wake. What you missed was the fact that somebody finally stood up and said

STOP IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We talked about a number of things. I gave him an example that would mean something to him. He missed some of the more subtle points because I think he's seriously attached to saving this man. Sure he is. Everything about this system lives in my boss's brain but he either can't or won't teach it and he sure as hell isn't willing to document it.

And apparently those are his objectives for the year.

I kind of wonder. Did he hire me the way I am on purpose? Not quite exactly what he needed to take over the ship this year? Did he fail to send Peer to training so that he'd be unable or less able to learn the skill sets necessary to do the job properly?

I don't want to talk about it because I am truly disgusted.

The jury's out on HR. Truly they mean well but they haven't been back to the department heads yet.

I'm disgusted with the department because there's no missing this. No way in hell.

So here's the thing. The Factory could afford to lose me, or they could survive losing me for two reasons. First, there is no single point of failure and second, if there is a single point of failure you'd damn well better be prepared to suck it up and deal with the fallout that comes of triage.

Now it's true. I left The Factory with a completely documented system and a support structure in place. I left a consultant at the helm to handle the primary system until they could find a reasonable body to replace me. I left trained application managers who could handle most of their day to day requirements on the other systems and my boss could manage the rest and when he couldn't, he could and did call me. If that had failed they'd have needed another consultant. All this happened because I left on good terms and I had a great boss. If I hadn't left on good terms, if there had been zero documentation and no consultant it would have been a blood bath but it still would have worked out in the end. It just would have been oh so very, very yucky. But doable.

A single point of failure is a very, very big mistake. Not having a back door (like accepting that you actually have tribal in house and know you can bring in a kick ass consulting team) is deadly.

I'm disgusted.

Currently.

Ah. Predators. Hate 'em. And gawd they're everywhere sometimes and I'm just getting as bold as ever.

At the dance last night. No, wait, let me back up. That nasty little man wanted to come to the dance. I got an email on Thursday. Our president wonders how I'd feel if he came. Steam comes out my ears and I settle down in the parking lot. Part of me wants to burst into tears. It's my birthday. I want to go to the dance on Saturday because today is my birthday and while Thursday didn't suck as bad as all the other days I stood up to my boss and went to someone else's birthday party and he wasn't invited and had a fit. I went anyway. She was my friend and our mutual outlaw friends invited me. So I was a little raw after all this defiance. I didn't tell him it was my birthday; this would have just been so much worse. I told my peer at the end of the day and my friend across the way.

Anyway, she says she's been talking to him and I'm not processing anything anymore. I shoot back a quick email with two statements. 1. he knows perfectly well this isn't acceptable. It was in the final email to him. 2. Elizabeth and I will be happy to take a pass if he's going to be there. She said she'd get back to me.

What I left unsaid was this:

If he comes you and I will be having one final talk and then Elizabeth and I will never be back, there will be a brief conversation with the committee and I will cease to be a member.

She eventually told him to stay away but not until Friday night. I didn't have a chance to talk to her about it. I'm still thinking.I think handling predators is about to become a committee conversation overall.

In November, I think it was a man from Long Island came and was completely inappropriate. He's been banned from several other dances and been around for a long time. He's inappropriate in the way he handles women, in manner and in conversation. He is socially inept but he also knows better. He touched me around the waist in a way that would have had him punched in any other situation and then lifted me off the ground in a spin. He did not have permission. In any way. I let him have it. During the next dance he said I was too heavy to lift in retaliation. I let him have it again. During the next dance he followed me around and told me I couldn't have him because he was married. I walked away. One of the committee members watched and told me I had to tell the president because he was going to scare away the newer women or even the women who were regulars. And so I did. She spoke to him but I don't know what she said.

He came back last night. I talked to her. She said she thought it would be fine. It was not fine. She said she thought it was fine. It was not fine. I spoke to him directly after one last incident and told him I was stunned that he'd come back. He ran from the room.

So it can be handled, really, it can. But the thing is that women simply do not stand up and say something. Most of us question ourselves and keep quiet. Other women sell us out and say we know he's harmless and we can deal with it. Other women sell us out and have a conversation that goes something like this:

Did you have a good time? Will you come back? Oh good! I'm so glad.

Will that woman come back? Probably not.

Will I walk away? Maybe. I guess the real question is what will I say on the way out the door and how will I say it.

Or maybe she'll work it out. I really don't know and I'm tired.

The caller last night was the president from the other dance I haven't been to in months. He came with his girlfriend. I nearly cried when I saw them. It's a much bigger and different dance and while it isn't always easy it's easier in a different way because the problems aren't mine. I'd forgotten how much that all mattered.

I really do need to get my damn life back.

So there you have it. I'm still standing. There's an investigation underway, or it's done and the outcome is pending or something and I find I don't give a rat's ass at the moment but probably tomorrow morning my heart rate will spike again. I got a new pair of dancing shoes and a dancing dress for my birthday (the dress I failed to find for Christmas and the shoes because Leafy ate one of them although they were about ready for replacement). Elizabeth picked out the dress yesterday and talked me into it. I wouldn't have been brave enough on my own but it turns out she was right. Swirly skirt and all, it's so very, very pretty.

And it's sapphire blue. Exactly what I wanted and thought I'd never find.