Speaking Up

There are plenty of unpleasant aspects to growing older.  Discovering a wiry white hair on my head while peering into the bathroom mirror is the least of them, I'm sure.  (By the way, it's ok to yank them.  Seven more don't grow back, that's been refuted.) 

Although, I have to say, as my twenties head toward their glittering finale, I do notice certain aspects about myself beginning to evolve for the better.  Specifically, I'm not putting up with as much shit as I used to.

My Mom used to tell us this story (I like to think she was talking about my older sister and not myself):

"There was a little girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead.

And when she was good, she was very, very good.  But when she was bad, she was horrid."

During my many years in the workforce I've come across a handful of these types.  Haven't we all?  The kicker is, at work (if nowhere else), I am ridiculously even tempered.  I am polite, cheerful, predictable, you get the picture. 

In my everyday life I know how to handle people with little curls right in the middle of their foreheads.  But in a professional situation I often feel like my hands are tied.  Taped together by a chain of Post-it notes, perhaps.

The other day, after arriving at work to find my deskmate in yet another of his foul, sulking moods (today he was horrid), I decided I'd finally had enough.  We'd already had a discussion about this a few weeks earlier.  Our desks are facing each other, and I was desperate for a way to block out his negativity.  Gingerly, I pushed my computer monitor over a few inches to block out his face.  This passive aggressive action seemed to work quite nicely.

While the horrid one was at lunch, my boss casually asked if I'd taught this person how to do a certain task yet, and I uncharacteristically let loose: "No, I haven't.  We're not talking, actually."  I proceeded to inform my boss that I wouldn't treat a dog the way this person was treating his co-workers.  (This was harsh, I realize.)  I watched as my bosses eyes went very wide.  He'd never heard me speak this way before.

Who was this communicative woman?  I barely recognized myself.

After my outburst, I ran outside and called my husband, mother and sister, who all assured me this had been a long time coming.  They were all very proud and there was nothing to feel bad about.  So why did I feel so awful?

Later, when the horrid one in question innocently asked me why my monitor had been moved, I lost it again.  "I moved it because I couldn't sit facing you another minute!  I can't deal with your negativity!!  It's killing me!!"

"Should we take this outside?"  He asked, looking shocked, horrified, and seasick.

As we walked together down the hallway, I could feel the rage surging through my veins.  "Why did I move my monitor?  You're a smart man," I told him, "you can figure it out!"  (I didn't even remember I'd said this until the next day.)

Once out in the hallway, I explained my position in depth, finally, completely.  I omitted no detail: he was moody, unpredictable, unprofessional, and was making my work experience miserable.  In short, he was the little girl who had a little curl right in the middle of his forehead.

This is the point where he very nearly started to cry.  I almost fainted.

Yes, I am a monster.  If you know me, you'll know how out of character this public display of emotion was.  It's not that I'm not communicative to the people closest to me, for I am.  I'm an open book.  That circle is teeny tiny teeny, however.  That's also not to say I'm fake to the rest of the world, just wildly preoccupied with never hurting people's feelings, even at the expense of my own sanity.

He was hurt.  Wiping his eyes, he haltingly told me: "To hear this coming from you, of all people...it breaks my heart.  I thought we were...cool.  I thought we were friends."

The thing is, we are cool, most of the time.  (Except for the times when he's horrid.)  He went on to explain that he can't help it, that this was how he was raised.  He grew up in the projects, he said, so he tries to bottles his feeling, he shuts down, you can't teach an old dog new tricks, etc.  (He's not really old, actually, only 30.)  The truth was, he honestly thought this was acceptable behavior for the workplace.  He had no idea the chip on his shoulder was affecting anyone, least of all me. 

After our pow wow things seemed fine.  I gave him a hug and told him I liked him very much.  And to his credit, he's acted completely lovely since.

There is something ridiculously empowering about Taking Action.  That old adage "we teach people how to treat us" finally makes practical sense to me.  Of course, along with this also comes ownership.  After all, I'd nearly made a grown man cry.

In fact, that night I couldn't keep visions of his teary, tormented eyes floating into my mind.  I had exposed someone for their bad behavior when no one else would.  I had stood up for myself, so what did I feel so effing guilty about?  My heart and my mind duked it out into the wee hours of the morn.

I'm 29 years old and in nine short months I will turn 30.  On Wednesday, I taught somebody how to treat me.  They don't have to be cheerful and chipper, they don't even have to like me.  They just have to treat me with the same respect with which I treat them.  It wasn't easy and the entire experience shook me to my core.  But I did it. 

There are certain advantages to getting older.  Not caring as much about what people think has got to be one of them.

Happy Easter, Dear Reader.  xoxo

Comments

[sexkitten]

Happy Easter to you too. This is a great post. With age comes wisdom. Standing up for yourself is necessary. You should never allow anyone to take away your joy. Take care.

[Auntie Sue]

Good for you! It is one of the benefits of getting older. Sometimes people just need to be set straight and there's no way to do it "nicely". take care and Happy Easter!

[Karen]

I'm proud of you, baby! I figured this "I don't care if you like me or not, I have to think of myself for a change" kind of attitude out a few months ago so you're ahead of the game. It's very liberating, isn't it?