Occupational Hazards

I understand the purpose, in theory, to meetings. However in practice they tend to take a very different avenue. I used to think that meetings were to give information or come to a decision about something, even the occasional collaboration and brainstorming session would happen. But the longer I work the more I see that those logical reasons for people to come together have gone down the toilet pipe. 

Case in point are my almost weekly meetings with someone that I’ve called “Annoying Boy (AB)”. The name alone should explain it all but there are so many reasons why someone is annoying so let me explain why he holds this moniker. 

AB is on the technical side of the business, meaning he does a lot of the coding and fixes to the systems that I use every day at work. AB probably really knows his stuff but he sure as fudge can’t explain it to a lay person or even a non-lay person (like me) with any remote clarity. Whenever we come to a meeting with AB, we go away with 2 of a number of things:

A migraine

The desire to hurt him immensely

Utter and complete general befuddlement

Confusion about what the point of the meeting was in the first place

The doubt that we actually accomplished anything we set out to do in the meeting

It’s definitely a skill because everyone is completely lost when we meet with him. In order to get clarity, we ask questions. But I am certain that clarity is never attained. It seems that the more questions we ask the further down the confusion hole we become. He’s a master of verbal illusion and slight of word. The David Blaine of Data and Business Analysis!

I have mentioned this to my boss, who agrees with me wholeheartedly. Yet, he’s still around. Go figure!

Some people have to pick up boxes or patients and that’s an occupational hazard for their jobs. I, on the other hand, have meetings and AB to deal with on a pretty consistent basis. It all is part of a day’s work!

Yes, Dear

I love to get to the office early so that I can leave at a relatively decent time, meaning early. It was the first real day back in the office after the New Year. It was 7:30 and all was quiet. I was getting through my emails and planning my work for the day. All was quiet on the eastern work front until I heard someone yelling to someone else on the phone in a undecipherable language.

When did this person walk into this group of desk? Who the hell were they yelling at this early in the morning? Why is this something anyone (even the mice) should be subjected to at any point in the day much less the quiet of the morning?

I complained about this via instant message to an old co-worker friend who greeted me with wishes for a wonderful 2014. I told him that it sounded like this person was yelling at his wife. And he responded “Doesn’t he know the only thing he should be saying to his wife is ‘Yes, Dear’?”

I told him that obviously this guy had no clue on how to have a happy marriage. My fried reminded me that he had been married for 19 years. Evidently my friend knew exactly how to be successful at home and at work. He told me that “Yes, Dear” even applies at work but the phrasing is slightly different.

Sometimes you have to disguise it- “You’re right!”….”Great idea!”….”Why didn’t I think of that!”

That explained to me how he recently got promoted. Here I was thinking that maybe coming up with efficiency plans and cleaning up old outstanding issues would get me further along in the work hierarchy. I think that also explains how men get ahead. They have a lot of practice saying “Yes, Dear”. I definitely can’t say I’ve mastered that turn of phrase in the least. Sounds to me like Mr. Early Bird hadn’t mastered it either.

Angie's Rib

There is very little that I remember of the daily ins and outs of my pregnancy. I do recall an awful lot, don’t get my wrong, but those typical complaints and cravings that you hear about with regards to pregnant women don’t come to mind. (You can ask my husband though. I’m sure he has a whole list!)

One particular complaint that I had towards the end was that I would repeatedly get kicked in the ribs every night. It was incredibly painful to the point where I would have a bodily reaction as if someone were kicking me in the stomach. A number of times I thought the force and repeated nature of the kicks would eventually break a rib. I even remember one night when the relentless kickboxing class made me cry. I thought at that particular moment, I would feel the bone(s) give way. Turned out it just hurt a lot and I didn’t sustain any broken ribs. 

As I said to a doctor early on when my daughter didn’t want to cooperate during her anatomy scan:

 “I have my work cut out for me, don’t I?”

 He replied, ‘Yes, you do.”

From that moment on, I knew M was going to be interesting. (There was another moment before that but this was the point when I knew I’d have my hands full!)  She definitely showed it through my pregnancy, especially every night as she auditioned for the Rockettes, and now that she’s outside my stomach as well.  

My little stunt double apprentice has taken a liking to the bathtub. Not entirely sure why but she could sit there for hours playing with toys and inspecting the material of which the tub is composed. One morning after finishing a bath, I turned to get the towel on the sink. I discovered on turning back that mini-spidergirl was climbing up the shower caddy, which gave way right under her. Acting quickly, I grabbed her with my right hand and held the caddy from falling with my left. In doing this acrobatic move, my foot slipped from under me and I crashed into the edge of the tub. I heard a crack and felt pretty intense pain. I was pretty certain that I broke a rib. As I was trying to compose myself, stop crying and attempt to move, my daughter looked at me like “Let’s do it again!” I turned to see the dog sniffing at my body. Maybe she knew something I didn’t know about my bones. 

Luckily nothing broke which is a blessing. Even with bruised/cracked ribs, it’s hard for them to heal when you have to pick up a munchkin who insists on moving at warp speeds. I just hope this is the last bit of torture my ribs will have to sustain for a while. But I’m definitely not holding my breath (frankly, because it hurts!).