Great expectations

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I take my work very seriously. I take pride in what I do and want to do the very best I can. If there is a portion of my job I’m not good at I want to do what I can to improve my skillset in that area. A portion of my job is to supervise. I have supervised in the past, and have acted as a mentor and advanced resource to my colleagues in other positions, but being a supervisor is something I haven’t had a lot of formal training in, so since my place of employment offers courses in the subject I’ve been taking as many training sessions as I can.

One common theme is emerging: Setting expectations.

If I expect something of you and you don’t deliver what I expected, but I never told you that I had that expectation, then is it fair of me to be mad at you when you fail in my eyes?

Our feelings are fair to have, but if you don’t set someone up for success then chances are they will inadvertently fail you.

A scenario, if you will: I expect you to pick up a loaf of bread on the way home, because this morning I was making sandwiches for your lunch and ended up using the last of the bread. You see in your lunch that one of your sandwiches is a crust sandwich (the sandwich using the beginning and end pieces of the loaf). But I never explicitly asked you to get that loaf of bread. I’m perfectly capable of getting that loaf of bread myself and I didn’t specifically mention that I used the last of the bread on your sandwiches today. You come home from work after a long day, expecting that I will make you sandwiches for the next day, but you didn’t bring home any bread.

Murky double-fault/no-fault/depends who you ask situation there.

Excuses I could come up with to blame you for this situation: I make the sandwiches so why should I have to buy the bread? I make the sandwiches with double-crust to signal it’s the end of the loaf, so why should I have to say anything? You’re a mind reader and you know when I am throwing away the bread wrapper that I don’t already have a second loaf of bread in the kitchen, even though you know I’ve been to the store at least three times this week because I brought home other groceries three different days this week.

I think you get the point of how assuming without setting expectations up front can lead to a lot of ridiculously stupid assumptions on the other end of something as simple as sandwiches for lunch.

I’m just curious where you are in the Expectations cycle. Are you still expecting without communicating your expectations? Or have you figured out that the secret to successful communication is to clearly state your expectations, make sure the person on the other end of those expectations is willing to agree to those expectations, and you both follow through with your part of the expectations?

SEDUCTION! SEDUCTION!

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My first day feeling like a human again was spent at work until 6:15pm. That’s a touch later than usual. Know what happens when I work a touch later than usual?

All the skip-stop trains are finished running for the rush hour.

AWESOME.

I waited 15 minutes for my first train, then another 10 for the connecting one, only to see that it was so packed that there was no way I was getting on it. So I waited for another train to arrive. And got a good train! With seats! Woo! A local train… but, still a train! To home! Where my family is! Except… the only seat left on said local train was next to a woman who apparently doesn’t like touching men because she wouldn’t move to her left or her right so there wasn’t actually a seat. I could have pushed the issue, and definitely would have if it had been a day earlier when me being able to stand wouldn’t have been an option, but I was feeling good so I stayed standing.

And then two stops later That Guy got on the train.

The guy who has to feel everyone up as he walks by, but does it in a way that it would be SUPER HARD to prosecute. He used his backpack to rub up against my calves. Thank goodness for knee-high boots underneath my dress pants.

And then he started out-of-tune humming along to his music which no one else could hear because he was being (considerate?) by not blasting his music to the train.

And then he started going from out-of-tune humming to saying “SEDUCTION! SEDUCTION!” and I went from bothered to pissed.

At the next stop the chick with the man issue got off the train and a woman who had gotten on the train after me looked at me to bargain for the seat. I waved my Vanna hand at it and said “ENJOY!” and walked to the other side of the car, which happened to be extremely packed, but no one was trying to be sexually inappropriate in any manner physically or vocally.

I knew if I had stayed near the man who was what other people would consider the equivalent of eating spaghetti on the train

(provided for your reference:

) I would have had to go Kung Fu Popstar on his ass… and for crying out loud I just wanted to go home so I chose to move myself out of that situation.

Moral of the story: If someone’s bothering you, you have three choices…

1. Confront
2. Act all bothered and pissy and passive-aggressive
3. Remove yourself from the situation and choose a more important battle in life

Today option number 3 was my choice. And it’s a choice I made after a lot of times making choice 1 or choice 2 and finally learning that there is another option.

Irony is a dish best served in a cast. What? Oh, stop, I’m sick.

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It’s no fun to see famous people and not be able to tell you I saw them.

Today nothing of consequence occurred.

Well, I did buy some soup and popsicles. And interrupt a meeting, at the presenter’s request, to install software. (… oh hai, i’m just the it guy bustin in on your MEETING, what WHAT! …) And make an entire train car of people think I was going to turn them into zombies with my sneezing.

But you know that’s not what I actually want to tell you and can’t. Ohh, what good Cereal Wednesday episodes I would have if I was allowed to ask them to participate…

*sneeze* *sneeze* *sneeze* Someone else help Dawg put the laundry together? Please?

ok, bye.

Do not lean on door

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On each set of subway train doors is the cautionary message “Do not lean on door”. It’s for your safety, it’s to discourage you from blocking the door, it’s to cover the MTA’s ass if you don’t listen and anything bad happens, and it’s also so you don’t break the doors and make them not open and close properly.

Everyone leans on the doors. But today’s experience was new to me.

Tonight I was sitting on the bench of a skip stop J train when a man got on the train and leaned against the door. He took off his eye glasses, put them in his pocket, and fell asleep standing up, leaning against the door. Our train doors open on whichever side of the train the platform happens to be on, so sometimes the door would open on his side and knock him back awake. I really wanted to stand up and offer him my seat, but I was barely able to fit in my seat so I knew he wouldn’t be able to fit where I was until someone else got up. Finally another seat opened up on the bench, still too small for him to sit on but I was going to stand up to offer my seat so the woman next to me would get the hint and move down… and then the doors closed on the man’s backpack and jacket. Both items pinned in the doors. He groggily started tugging at the backpack to try to pull it out of the door, then gave up for a minute.

The J train is elevated 4 stories in the air as it travels through Brooklyn and Queens. This man resumed tugging on his backpack after the train pulled away from the station. If he fell out and somehow fell over the side… death would be better than not death, most likely. I was slightly horrified that he was making such a poor decision, and I was ready to make another poor decision of grabbing the pole in front of the door and then grabbing onto this stranger to stop him from falling out the doors when he finally got his backpack out.

Hypothetically the doors would seal shut if he ever did get the backpack out, but my mind likes to explore all options and focus on the least favorable scenario as I continue to elaborate my mind’s scenario, so I was convinced I would be springing up to catch him just in time…

And then the train stopped at my stop, the doors opened, he tugged his backpack away from the doorway, and I got off the train, never knowing if that man chose to continue sleeping standing up.

Do not lean on door, people. Do not lean on door.

The writer inside

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This post is real.

Dawg and I planned the last post together. We did not break up. We are very much together, and happily so.

The words in my post were crafted as I sat on the couch, channeling my inner sadness. My inner insecurities. Conversations we’ve had. Feeling the pain of hurdles and challenges we have made it past and conquered.

Recently Dawg and I had a conversation in which we joked about us breaking up over him leaving his socks on the floor.

Socks on the floor can be replaced by the toilet seat up or dishes left in the sink or clutter being left on common surfaces or [insert something that might annoy a person]. The funny thing is, none of these things annoy me.

I am a kid at heart. And I’ve already been through the trauma of trying to live the perfect married life and failing miserably at it because I wasn’t happy.

But even with my kidlike spirit (which, I’m sorry to say, is what allowed me to post that devilish April Fool’s Day tale to the Internet in the first place), I value the importance of communication with my partner in life. We have made the pact that we are together for life, without the piece of paper that for other people is extremely necessary, but we’ve both had before and it did not end well at all. We are very serious about going on life’s journey together, which to us makes it quite laughable that we’d break up over me being mad about socks on the floor. My mom, Bdogg, Britt, and Robin have all been here, they know how we live: like teenagers putting off the chore of cleaning our room until a parental unit yells, or until we run out of clean underwear.

Things are different now that I have a new job. We are both busy. We don’t get a lot of time together. And sometimes it does feel like we’re not connecting on things… and then we say something to each other and we talk it out and we smooth things over and we move on with life.

Nothing about what I said about Dawg is directly true. He always calls, unless there is a reason why he can’t. He always greets me and the girls. He may go right to the bed, but he’s waiting for his Squishy Poppy (that’s me) to join him so we can talk about our days or take a nap together. The only time he has ever thrown Twitter off him is when he’s asleep and she bites or scratches him and he doesn’t even know what he’s doing.

Dawg is a good man. A very good man. When he read over the post ahead of its publish, his statement was “wow, I sound like a douchebag.” Since then he has been telling me over and over that he loves me and that we’re never breaking up. That’s who Dawg really is.

I do hate feet, but I find Dawg’s feet charming. I’ll even touch them. I think it’s hysterical when Twitter finds pleasure in carrying Dawg’s socks around.

I have had fear like any rational person would, about uprooting my entire Vermont life to try life in NYC. About walking into an already existing and highly complicatedly complex world. If I wanted simple I would have stayed on that couch in Vermont continuing to watch a big screen TV to pass the hours, but I didn’t do that… I chose the harder, more rewarding path.

How many times have I said I love it here? How I love riding the train? How I love my new job? How I love living in the apartment with Dawg and our furbabies? Many. I love him, I love his family, I love his friends, I love his “bad habits”, I love him when he acts like a boy and does silly things, and he always loves me, my family, my friends, my “bad habits”, when I act like a girl and do bitchy things.

I mean everything to Dawg, and he means everything to me. This is true love. True love with communication. A formula for success, as you all knew it already was.

It’s all good here.

Please accept my apologies if you felt the heartache in my post and were angry when you found out this was a joke. That post was a work of fiction, written based on life experience.

He broke up with me.

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Things have been different lately. We’ve both been busy and short with each other and not spending a lot of time together and bickering over stupid stuff and just not… connecting.

Tonight I was PMSing and hungry at the same time. I texted him from the train that I was making spaghetti for dinner but he never answered my text. When I tried to call him his phone went to voicemail. I was waiting for him instead of scarfing down carbs because I was being NICE.

No phone call to tell me he’d be later than usual. He walked in the door, didn’t even say hi to me, just went right to the bedroom, took off his socks and threw them on the floor, and went to bed.

Twitter was excited to see him but he pushed her off him so she jumped down and grabbed one of his socks. IN HER MOUTH.

I FUCKING HATE FEET and dirty socks are nasty and make me want to hurl, and here’s my cat, “OUR” cat, with his fucking dirty ass sock in her mouth. She now has FUNGUS mouth. So I am in this instant fit of PMS hungry rage, yelling at him to wake up and pick his fucking socks up off the floor, that he’s giving our KID a DISEASE with his nasty ass fucking socks and we start going at it. How he’s not happy. How all I ever do anymore is yell at him. How he’s sick of pretending like it’s ok. How this isn’t the kind of home he wants to live in. How I’m not the person I used to be.

He put his work clothes back on and told me he’d be back for his stuff this weekend. And he just left… No door slam, just a quiet close and lock of the door behind him and he hasn’t been back or called or texted or emailed or walked back through the door so we could make up.

I mean nothing to him. I was just comfortable. And when I became too big of a pain in his ass he left me.

For where… I shouldn’t care, but I hope it’s his mom’s house and not… ican’tevensayit.

I have been crying for hours, feeling sorry for myself and lost and alone and STUPID for dropping my entire life in Vermont to move to an apartment in a neighborhood that can’t fucking stand me and all I ever do is go to work then go home then sit on the couch and veg just like I always did in Vermont and how is this ANY different, and this guy I MOVED HERE FOR FUCKING DUMPED ME OVER SOCKS.

Three years, two months, and one sock in Twitter’s mouth.

Down the drain.

I give up on relationships.

Good thing I love my job, since I’m still on probation and have to make it through tomorrow because I have no time off.

I hate this feeling… it sucks so bad.

ugh. :(

green

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You know we love our kitties, and they are our furry kids, and I worry about them way too much, so I got the brilliant idea to cook our green parsley topped pot roast in the crockpot overnight while we slept so that we didn’t have to cook it while we were away from home for 12 hours today. That way if the apartment burned down we either rescued everyone or all went together. Morbid, but it makes me feel better to be around just in case. The bonus: We woke up to an amazing roast aroma. Extra bonus: Because I needed to hurry up and reheat it, I sliced the roast into pieces, then “boiled” them in their own gravy. Amaaaaaaaazing. We had Yukon mashed potatoes (from a box) and Pillsbury garlic butter crescent rolls (totally worth the garlic breath) with it.

Oh my goodness. To stop the rumor mill ahead of the rumor, I’m not preggers, with child, cooking a bun in my oven. I am lactose intolerant. I tend to eat a lot of fat free dairy and super aged cheese so that the lactose is lessened or completely void. Yesterday I had half and half, cottage cheese, fresh ricotta, fresh mozzarella, and ice cream. All in the same day. I spent all morning wishing I was knocked unconscious while the bad stuff oozed out of me and a nursemaid cleaned my bum.

Yup. I said it.

The best part was that I had to go to work today. And not only did I have to work my job, but I actually had to be the star of a video. Yes, my job lends itself to the occasional creative moment. I get to write fun content, I get to be in videos. I get to stand up in front of entire audiences and make bold but friendly statements. So, I was feeling extremely green but had to smile for the camera, so I had some crackers for lunch and then didn’t eat anything more all day. And I wore a headband. Can’t wait to see that video when it’s edited. (I’m not the one editing it. wah.)

I took the step to text my friend from my last job to ask what our St. Patrick’s Day plans are going to be. (Suggestion: Don’t go drinking with your new work buddies while you’re still on probation at your job. Another suggestion: Don’t call it probation like I’m a fucking criminal. One of those two things is in my control, the other isn’t.) She told me to come show up to their neck of the woods and she’d make sure something happened. This Thursday I fully expect to have my first green beer ever. And since Dawg will be on the isle of Man with me, working an event, I’ve asked him to drive me home if I don’t think I should go there myself. I’m old, I can handle approximately 3 beers and then it’s seriously bedtime, so I’m hoping not to be slipped secret vodka in my beers when I visit the ladies’ room.

I have no ending. I just like green.

in kind

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Whenever I can I perform acts of kindness for strangers. A period of unemployment certainly helped to remind me of my love for this action, and I am grateful that my new job location allows me to have almost daily opportunities to help people I will probably never see again.

If I helped you today, even just through my words, please pay it forward to someone else in need. Thanks. :)

It’s full steam ahead again for the old noggin. (Wow, that’s a lame title.)

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If you haven’t noticed by my barely around existence mixed with “zomg I’m tired / I’m on a spaceship!” tweets, I’ve returned to the working world.

I’ve been there two weeks now and I know that I deserve this job but I wonder every single day how the stars quite aligned this time around. I love my new job. It’s a *dream* job to me.

Twitter is not taking it well. (Just to clarify: I mean the cat.) She doesn’t understand why Mommy now gets up before the heat turns on instead of letting her wake me up when she hears it turn on. She doesn’t understand why I leave every morning with Dawg now. She doesn’t understand why I am gone for 12 hours every weekday. She doesn’t understand why I’m in a rush to give the girls their treat but then I’m ready to collapse and zonk out.

It broke my heart the first few days, but I’m mostly over it now. She is bonding better to Dawg than ever before, so there’s good to come out of this. Also, we have a new game that we play where she goes under the bed covers and I race my hand over them so she can attack my hand from underneath. I <3 that game.

I won’t be speaking about my employer because you will all know who it is. There are people in the desert of third world countries who know my employer. So, I’m keeping it hushy in this space. If you know me on LinkedIn or if I gushed at you about my good news in email or text, well, then, you know already.

I love everyone at my new job. And everyone at my new job thinks I’m a nice person because they encourage me with their niceness to be the nice person I am when I’m not backed into a corner like a caged animal.

But I continue to love all of you too. I think about you a lot despite my quietness. Doing my best to maintain the fun sites, doing my best to keep my Buy-Her commitment to write tech tips every other week now that I have a job, plus write one review a month. Doing my best to have quality family time despite getting home at 7pm and going to bed at midnight then waking up again at 5:30am.

Doing my best, period.

The end, bye.

And no one corrected me.

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I am troll-less.

I told you I took a train over the Brooklyn bridge and no one insulted me.

I knew that wasn’t right. It was the Manhattan Bridge I went over in the train. The J//M/Z go over the Williamsburg, the B/D/N/Q go over the Manhattan.

In related news, I intend to learn my bridges very soon.