Each morning when I enter my office and place myself at my desk I silently mutter to myself, "Welcome. To. Junior. High."
Not only am I doing three people’s jobs and constantly behind, but I am also acting “school counselor.” Which normally doesn’t bother me because I can usually tune them out or tell them that they are brave and awesome for dealing with this huge, massive problem, when really I think they are being a baby. (I’ve learned agreeing with them, even when I don’t, gets them out of my office and back to work that much faster. Wrong? I know.)
And life continues as normal…until this week when, for once in my life I said no.
As the safety coordinator, I said no to increasing the max weight on the vehicle registration to a limit that exceeded its legal limit, which is expensive, and dangerous. For those that are like, “WTF is she nattering about?” It’s the equivalent of asking for a size 7 shoe when you are actually a 9; your foot is too big for the shoe; it won’t work. In our twelve years of operating never have we have we been in such a situation. We always have a bigger shoe. So I said it was unnecessary.
I can’t enter his office without him immediately changing the topic. I am the devil to him. The best part: I can hear him talking from my office, so I like to randomly pretend I need a document from his filing cabinet when he really gets going about how "controlling" I can be.
Me, controlling?
Mwahaha!
