It’s all about the ass kicking…
Long story short, I got my ass somewhat handed to me last week at work. So it turns out, I am an HR issue due to my sarcasm and dry humor. Normally, I’d be STOKED to be noticed for my favorite of all favorites – desert dry funnies, but apparently, it wasn’t flying with my supervisor. A very dedicated, serious, and determined young woman, I actually thought that we would get along like bread and butter from the moment I met her.
And then I spoke.
As she pulled away over time, began to get short with me, and displayed a rising irritation with me overall, I was feeling her feel all of these things on a daily basis and I was driving myself MENTAL overthinking and underdoing whatever it was that I had done to create this situation. But when I got my 3 month evaluation and it wasn’t stellar, I suddenly started to realize that maybe this situation wasn’t going to go away on its own and a problem was about to burst to the surface like a white faced pimple.
I went home on Thursday night ready to commit harry-karry. I just kept thinking, “I’m going to be transferred to another division or I’m going to get fired” over and over again until I sent myself into a nightmarish sleep to wake Friday ready to puke and pass out.
And, Friday delivered one shit ass of a day. I had six hours of meetings ALL over campus, which meant I didn’t have time to do my own work, catch a breath, stop sweating, or deal with the situation that was readily and eagerly brewing on its own. I had already that day had an unfortunate check-in meeting with my lead, and in that hour, we both realized in our own way that we were not working together AT ALL and something would have to be done.
My heart broke.
But I was also getting a bit pissed too. I felt like I was having to change parts of myself that I didn’t want to and actually COULD NOT. I like humor. I especially like dry humor. I literally don’t even know when I’m doing it, but it’s omnipresent, and apparently VERY irritating.
At about 3:45 I started getting calls and text messages from my two supervisors requesting a meeting ASAP.
It’s Friday, about 4 o’clock, and my managers want to meet me. Yes, I’ve had this feeling before. In fact, I had it the ENTIRE time I was with my previous job.
So getting my wits about me, I sucked up my fears and strode back UP the hill to meet my sups. And it could have gone really, really bad…
But it didn’t. Actually, we had a really critical, and work changing conversation where we explained ourselves to a T, and felt that we made some headway with the other person. Without going into specifics, the rules we now follow are these:
If I make a joke or say something sarcastically and I RECOGNIZE that I’ve said it, I say “JK” out loud so we all know I’m kidding.
If I forget to say it or I’m actually NOT being funny, but my person doesn’t know it, she is supposed to ask, “Joke or Not”.
Done and Done. We have safe words. We are so 50 Shades of Berkeley, its bananas. But, Monday and Tuesday have gone by pretty well in comparison, so I can’t complain. In this situation, I met the issues HEAD ON, spoke kindly and directly, and made a connection to another person who had begun to doubt me. That’s a no-no. I’m the real(ish) deal(ish), who is trying to get through a corporate life that is really, just-not-me.
But then I had the opportunity to catch the flip side of life when I watched my sister, KICK ASS all over her gig singing with the infamous Big Brother and the Holding Company.
Talk about knowing yourself! My sister had been rehearsing for this show for weeeeeekkkkkssss and was in all kinds of states about how it was going to go off. I couldn’t blame her. Singing 17 Janis songs was a challenge in itself, but playing with a band who hadn’t rehearsed in 2-3 decades was a whole ‘nother ball of wax.
And to be fair, the beginning of the show was iffy. I had brought a right posse, and we were prepared to salute our captain and cheer our asses off for her NO MATTER WHAT. The first song, we felt we may have to fake it a bit. Everyone on stage seemed nervous, rusty, new hats.
But not my sister.
She saved this show, people. Not only saved it, she made it exciting, danceable, and new. No, she didn’t sound like Janis. And maybe that was why it worked. KK had made her voice do something I had never heard it do before; she trained it, loved it, lied to it, brought it chocolates and flowers to butter it up. She did whatever she had to to MAKE IT WORK and my god, I bawled. It was like listening to a new wave of greatness, and it was phenomenal.
I know, I know, I bawl at everything. But to see her up there letting go with every fiber of her being, no reservations, no hesitation, no fear – it was life changing.
So right when I think there is no room in this life for each of us to really, REALLY, be ourselves, I get a show directed exactly to me that proves my theory wrong.
My sister taught me something that night that I hope I never forget. OWN IT. Own everything. Don’t make excuses. Don’t hide. Just fucking do. We all can’t be a cookie cutter mold, and for those of us that don’t actually want to be a stepford human, we must believe in who we are, participate in life as who we see ourselves to be, and not let anyone redirect us off that path.
I still have my job that I like. My sister may become hugely famous. But more so than those successes, we obviously really like ourselves. And in that, I know my everything.