I returned to work Monday afternoon, having arrived [late] into the Vancouver airport on Monday morning, without my checked luggage.
Early early morning layovers at Dorval/Trudeau airport in Montreal [now, officially the hell-hole of airports], followed by delayed flights [due to an MIA flight attendant] and missed connections, made for such a lovely start to the day.
I had promised to phone from the airport to see if I was needed at work. Technically, I hadn’t booked the entire day off but, if it was slow, I could use up some banked overtime and go home and sleep. That was not to be.
I’d psyched myself up for that. Based on the look of our schedule calendar before I left, it was incredibly likely that I would have to work. I was okay with working. I’d napped a little and had coffee. I was fit to work.
I was not fit, however, for the extraneous bullshit that not only hit the fan, but that now seems permanently stuck there. The personality issues that percolate often just below [more often above] the surface of my little workplace appear to have blown up while I was away and made one hell of a mess.
Now, there I was at work. I was tired. I may have been a little cranky and I was definitely very busy. I was also a prime new target for rehashing all the incidentals – some small and some rather scarily large – that have gone on in my absence and for speculating about what is yet to come.
[I am, for whatever reason, one of those people who people like to talk to. I am the one who strangers ask what time it is, despite the fact that I don’t wear a watch. I get asked for directions anywhere and everywhere. People say ‘hi’ to me, offer help if they feel it necessary and comment on my hair/glasses/shoes/etc. And people like to bitch to me.]
Normally, I’m okay with this. Venting, I figure, helps keep the place sane enough for everyone to work in. A little confirmation that no, really, She’s nuts/out of line/passive aggressive and that yes, really, you’re right to feel that way, can go a long way to moving past [or at least temporarily around] some of the daily shoulder-tensing events.
This past week, though, has been not only excessive in workload, but in She [rarely, is it anyone other than the one particular She] behavior. I’m not really up for that. But, neither is anyone else. So, I sympathise/empathise as I can and work in the back room as much as possible. It’s a horrible way to deal – hiding and running away – but that’s the only way I was going to get through the week.
Now, everyone will have had a three day long weekend to either relax and move along or to get more worked up about everything. I can pretty much guarantee you which co-workers will have taken which route.
We go back to work on Tuesday. I have yoga class at lunch on Tuesday. Despite a few speculations as to the de-stressing benefits, I’m seriously contemplating dragging everyone’s butts, and their associated sticks, to class with me.