2005-07-07
Thursday, 12:34. Or maybe 12.:32. I don't know which clock is right
I've been shoved around by circumstance all day long and I am thisclose to getting out of here for the afternoon.
I want to play with Rosie a bunch before she goes to spend a couple of nights with a friend, while I spend the night someplace.... less friendly.
All morning though, it's been a problem to print things and people have been unable to show up, so to recap, I offer this picture:
The scene opens at my cubicle, with a broker swooping down on me before I have even removed my sunglasses.
"Sarah, have you checked your voicemail this morning?"
"Uhhhhh... no?"
"You need to right now because Sandy called and she said she left you a garbled message saying that she can't make it to meetings this morning because she has to have a flat fixed. She needs you to take her place and ask Dee Dee to deal with the food - those grapes from yeterday need to be washed. Also, I think you'll need to make copies of the dental provider directory but listen to your message and then come see me."
I wish I could say that I left my desk and went and made coffee, or checked my gmail or something but I'm decently repectful of those who ask me to do someting reasonable, so I checked my message.
Word for word, Sandy told me everything that the broker had just told me while said broker stood over me, talking a mile a minute while I logged into my machine.
Next stop: El Brokero's office. Same thing. I get the WHOLE message again.
By now, I could have been working on the requests and by now, I could have known that there isn't ONE SINGLE PRINTER working properly between here and FUCKING YUMA.
So when I am finally allowed to go and do my job, I head off, send some stuff to the printer, get yelled at when I took some stuff from HR. The Yeller was really rude... she said to me, "You need to ask before you take those.
My reply? "We have 1 and we have meetings all day."
"Well, you still have to ask, I need those for new hire packets." (Hello? It's Open Enrollment? You don't need to make packets right now because I just made 200 OF THEM BY MY-DAMN-SELF.)
"Bitch, I will order more and they'll be here by the end of the damn afternoon."
"But you can't just come in her and take those you have to ask."
Fuming, "I would have asked but there was nobody over here and I have 12 minutes before our meetings start. I'm taking these and I told you I would order more of them immediately." Which I did.
So now, I have to wash grapes and put fruit in a couple of bowls that look pretty, pick up my printing and smile for the attendees. Perfect order and timing.
Ha!
Not!
No staple-sort for you, missy.
No collating for you, sister!
I ended up collating, with a life-saver colleague, 75 12-page directories in about 17 minutes flat. I was crawling around the piles on the floor and foaming at the mouth for coffee but whatever - 75, bitches.
Now I have to think about crime and punishment and miss my baby doglet and feel surprisingly, genuinely afraid about tomorrow and what those 24 hours could mean in terms of life-changing.
That's why none of this business is okay. Someone with authority can lie and I end up paying in too many ways too count. Tomorrow is one more challange for me to try to get through without being too panic-stricken but in tewrms of the rest of my life?
What would I tell a child or a mother-in-law?
Oh yeah... I missed that event because I was in jail that day.
God, anything could happen - from a fight, to broken ac, to someone deciding that she hates me for the way I look; there could be a major, world-changing event and I wouldn't know about it until I'm all checked out.
Oh god.
Something could happen in my family and if something happened in my family and I was unreachable because of this, I think I would slip all the way over to I Don't Care.
Oh my god, this is so real and not in a good way... I am terrified.
Jenn, thanks for what you said last night but honey, this isn't like a slumber party.
I don't know if I'll have the heart to put Rosie in the bathroom for the day ever, ever, ever again.
Fuck, I don't think I've ever even been sent to my room. I am serving time for .09? From a wide right turn?
Does ANYBODY see why this is so hard for me to get my head around and figure out how to get through, or is the general consensus that I fucked up and now I have to pay.
I'm not breathing right.
I need to go to the gym.
I'll be back on Monday, god-willing.
I sort of don't want to be Arizona Sarah anymore. There's got to be someplace less harsh on me, with a little more cushion... this freakishly hot sun and wringing my sweaty, aging hands in it all the time is getting to be less fun than when the adventure began.
arizonasarah at 11:59 a.m.