Category: Words

This is a story about what a bad judge I am of how people feel about me.

Oh, sometimes it’s obvious. A guy who asks you out every day for two weeks is clearly interested. A guy who sits in front of the table where people are voting for Prom Queen and tells every one who walks up that they should vote for his girlfriend who is the most beautiful girl in school is obviously smitten. Someone who says: “bring your leftovers over and we can mix them with my leftovers and a couple of glasses of wine and it will be a real dinner” is clearly someone who loves you.

Most of the time, it is not that clear.

A few years ago, while the company I worked for was going through some layoffs, my then-new boss referred to a several of us with the phrase “people who don’t bring value to the team” and mentioned that such people might be likely to be traded to other teams or let go entirely.

Later, when I asked her to explain why she thought one of her top performing employees didn’t bring value to the team, she wondered why I was upset. You know, when you mention terms like “no value” and “layoff” in the same sentence, people will jump to conclusions. Mine was that she didn’t like me, and I should probably hurry up and get my Epic certification, polish up my resume and clear off my desk.

No one was more surprised than I was when I didn’t get a pink slip. I was even more surprised when she started actually acting like she liked me. Turns out, having to lay off a bunch of people who she didn’t even know had her a little inside out and having to keep professional secrets didn’t agree with her.

In my annual review the other day, she said: “over the years, there are not very many people who I have felt like I would have a hard time replacing. A lot of people make me sad when they leave, but you? It makes me totally twitch to think of you leaving. You anchor your whole team and save me a shit ton of work.”

Awwwww. And she put in writing, too. Well, not the part about twitching. Or the shit ton part.

The thing is, I was totally wrong about how much she valued me, but I wouldn’t say that the conclusion I came to based on how she was acting was unsound. It turned out to be incorrect…but any logical person would have reached the same conclusion that I did. I simply took her at face value.

Sometimes you can be completely logical and still be incorrect.
Sometimes, most of the time, the logical conclusion is the correct one.
Sometimes, there is not a correct answer at all.

A lot of the time, I am kind of bad at the process.

In the case of my boss, both my gut feeling and logic were wrong. That’s unusual. Normally both are in sync, and then a decision is simple. It’s when the brain and the gut are at odds that it gets complicated.

With me? If it’s a tie, I’ll listen to my gut. If it’s my brain that’s winning and not by very much, I will probably listen to my gut. If my brain is screaming WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG at my gut?

Well.

Sometimes I still listen to my gut.

I don’t know why people think I’m smart either.

Oh, but I am not allowed to refer to myself as a dumbass.
Damn.

The other day I was talking to a girlfriend at work about the usual stuff a person discusses at work: underwear and personal grooming. We discovered that we both have similar sad trombone thoughts along the lines of “no one will be noticing so why bother?”

Cue the Eeyore theme music.

I immediately messaged Chelle and made sure she knows that she needs to take me to the vet and have me put down if I stop shaving my legs. Yeah, yeah, you all-natural hippy chick types can stop shaving if you want. You can be as down with the Goddess and female empowerment as y’all want. You can wear diva cups and howl at the moon during a menstrual drum circle if it makes you happy. I applaud your awesome naturalness, but I want certain of my body parts to be relatively smooth. If I stop shaving my legs, that is a sign that I might as well lay down somewhere like a sick beast and let myself die in the woods like a lovesick girl Sasquatch.

I am not being overly dramatic. I am using exaggeration to make a point. Nuance. Hush up.

I am also not willing to engage in a spirited discussion about why shaving any of my body parts is submitting to the Man. They are MY body parts, and no one gets to decide if they are smooth or hairy except me.

Plus I have already talked a lot about pubic hair recently in the blog. I don’t want people to get tired of the subject.

Plus? Submitting? Not all bad.
A little off topic though.

Where was I? Oh, yes–underwear.

The other part of the discussion was about cute underwear and bras. A subject dear to all of our hearts, yes? I wonder if men have any idea how expensive it is to clothe the breasts that they are so fond of? If you are on a pre-divorce budget, a good bra is not something you can just buy on a whim. Sad. Then again, it’s not like anyone will see them, so does it matter?

Yes. Yes, it does. I see them.

I don’t care how much the sad trombone blows. I am not going to wear tattered underpinnings. I am not. Even if no one sees them, I am too vain. Plus, bad bras make my boobs sad. I don’t need sad boobs. I don’t.

So I guess I know what I will be buying with my bonus: new bras, a fancy leg shaving device and some Crystal Head vodka.

Not necessities, you say?

Perhaps not, but skulls make me happy. Smooth legs make me feel like I might have a tiny bit of sex appeal left. New bras uplift my mood almost as much as my breasts.

And I don’t care if you think it is weird, or if you would spend your money in a different way.

If you argue about it, I will throw in a new pair of red shoes and a $60 candle.

Don’t make me do anything drastic.