Prompt for December 10: Anniversary: Tell us about an anniversary you marked in 2011; maybe one you noted for the first time.
I work with the public. In retail, actually. Black Friday (or the day after Thanksgiving) is busiest day of the year for retailers... and thus the bane of my professional existence.
It is also the bane of my personal existence. My brother died the day after Thanksgiving two yeas ago. Last year I took a week off of work and (due to cancelled-at-the-last-minute travel plans) spent much of that time sleeping and avoiding the world in general. I don't like to do something to honor my brother of this day. There are other days I prefer to honor, other days I prefer to remember.
This year, due to my promotion at work, I was obligated to spend the whole stupid Black weekend at work. With Christmas music. And crowds. And stupid Christmas music. I wasn't looking forward to it at all.
I was a walking wound. Over caffeinated. On edge. Under rested.
But I didn't want to make a big deal about it. I didn't mention the significance of teh day to anyone. Only one of my co-workers mentioned it to me at all. Interestingly, it was a coworker who didn't know me two yeas ago, had only heard me reference the date in passing months ago. It meant a lot to me that she even remembered.
And then, on Saturday, my boss and I had what began as a minor disagreement.
The image of what we must have looked like is laughable. Him: tall, Hispanic, gesturing wildly and booming. Me: shorter, pale and red-headed, frazzled, shrill. We nipped and snipped at each other like a Rottweiler and Pomeranian. I'm sure it was a ridiculous scene.
The disagreement ended with him yelling at me, quite loudly, in front of my staff and storming away.
In an equally unprofessional (and unsurprising) turn of events, I promptly burst into tears.
It was miserable. I don't relish a repeat of any part of the weekend.
It is also the bane of my personal existence. My brother died the day after Thanksgiving two yeas ago. Last year I took a week off of work and (due to cancelled-at-the-last-minute travel plans) spent much of that time sleeping and avoiding the world in general. I don't like to do something to honor my brother of this day. There are other days I prefer to honor, other days I prefer to remember.
This year, due to my promotion at work, I was obligated to spend the whole stupid Black weekend at work. With Christmas music. And crowds. And stupid Christmas music. I wasn't looking forward to it at all.
I was a walking wound. Over caffeinated. On edge. Under rested.
But I didn't want to make a big deal about it. I didn't mention the significance of teh day to anyone. Only one of my co-workers mentioned it to me at all. Interestingly, it was a coworker who didn't know me two yeas ago, had only heard me reference the date in passing months ago. It meant a lot to me that she even remembered.
And then, on Saturday, my boss and I had what began as a minor disagreement.
The image of what we must have looked like is laughable. Him: tall, Hispanic, gesturing wildly and booming. Me: shorter, pale and red-headed, frazzled, shrill. We nipped and snipped at each other like a Rottweiler and Pomeranian. I'm sure it was a ridiculous scene.
The disagreement ended with him yelling at me, quite loudly, in front of my staff and storming away.
In an equally unprofessional (and unsurprising) turn of events, I promptly burst into tears.
It was miserable. I don't relish a repeat of any part of the weekend.
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