Ill Communication

I seem to be having trouble getting through to people these days. Last week, an e-mail landed in my inbox that took me by surprise. I had a lot of questions about it, and when I replied to the sender about my concerns, she said she would get back to me next week with an answer. Well, that was this week, and when she wrote back she didn’t answer any of my questions. She just reiterated the part of her e-mail that I had questions about, which really wasn’t helpful. What’s worse is that I totally saw it coming, her not really answering my questions. As awful as this sounds, I don’t think she knew how to answer my questions because I have a sneaking suspicion that she didn’t actually write the e-mail she sent out. She’s a self-proclaimed “terrible writer,” and not in the way most people use that phrase to mean they don’t know how to use commas (because that’s what makes someone a good writer, no?). She seriously can’t write an e-mail (and probably many other things) to save her life. So I think perhaps one of her business partners or attorneys put the e-mail together and she sent it out under the guise of it being original to her. I have no problem with that, except it means she didn’t really understand what she sent to people.

So now I have this response from her that’s making me scratch my head just as much as her first e-mail, which she seems to think was pretty straightforward yet she can’t offer me an interpretation of it that goes beyond the original wording. So now I look the one who has a really thick skull and can’t grasp a so-called simple concept.

What baffles me is that no one else who received this same e-mail had any questions about it. It’s rare that I get a lengthy e-mail discussing a change in business plans and don’t have a question about it. To me, that’s a normal thing to do. If I don’t understand something, I ask a question. These people who give me these non-answers to my questions make me feel like I’m being difficult, though. Like my question is the problem.

It reminds me of an infamous RMV experience I had when I needed to change my name on my license. After I got married, I filled out the paper work to change my last name, and all my credit cards changed, too, so I needed to get a new driver’s license. I got to the RMV before they opened, waited in line, and had a completely pleasant and easy time getting my new license. I tucked it in my wallet and headed off to work feeling relieved to have gotten that over with. Everything was fine until a few hours later when I took another look at my license and realized the person working there didn’t have me resign my name. The name printed on my license didn’t match my signature, which was still my maiden name. Crap! I went back down to the RMV, and this is what ensued:

Me, to the woman behind the counter: Hi, I was just in a few hours ago to change my name on my license, but the person who helped me didn’t have me re-sign my name to update my signature. Can I do that now?

RMV Woman: You should have come back within 90 minutes to make the change. *Blank stare*

Me: Excuse me? I didn’t notice the mistake right away, and no one said anything to me about having to be back here within 90 minutes. Can you make the change?

RMV Woman: You should have come back within 90 minutes. I can make the change in our system, but you need to come back on a different day.

Me: Why do I need to come back on a different day if you can make the change in your system?

RMV Woman: Because you should have come back within 90 minutes.

Me: Are you saying I can redo the signature, but that I have to pick up the license on a different day? I don’t understand how this works.

RMV Woman: I can make the change in the system, but you still need to come back. *Blank stare*

Me: Can I talk to your supervisor, please?

RMV Woman: Sure. *Blank stare*

Me: Uhm, are you going to call him over here?

RMV Woman: No, he’s on the other side of the room behind the desk.

Me: Can you show me where he is? I don’t know who you’re talking about.

RMV Woman: No, because that would mean I’d have to get up and walk all the way over there.

Me: *Jaw drops open*

I swear to God that really happened. What that woman had NO CLUE how to communicate was that license transactions have a 90 minute hold on them, so in case a mistake is made, you can correct it as long as you do it within 90 minutes before the transaction is processed. Once it’s processed, you have to wait to receive your license in the mail with whatever mistake it has on it, and THEN you have go back down to the RMV to change it. So that’s what I had to do, which I learned by finding that woman’s supervisor. The process wasn’t any easier when I returned a week later; I had to deal with a different RMV employee whose personality fit that of a crossing guard who couldn’t cut it as a security guard who couldn’t cut it as a cop and was now reduced to working in the closest thing resembling hell on earth so he was going to make sure everyone else there was as miserable as he was.

It drives me nuts when people can’t communicate effectively. Is it really that hard?

Restoring Order

Looking at any calendar and noting the progression of the days would have prepared me for the fact that today is June 1. It’s not a behavior I make a habit of avoiding, this whole checking-the-calendar thing. It’s just that time has been passing at a rate so incredibly fast that I’ve been unable to keep up with it, and so when I finally looked up and saw that we’re on month six of this year already, a paralyzing shock ran through my body and I was unable to blink or move for a few minutes.

So, yes. June 1. Hello.

Part of my surprise at realizing the date is that I seem to be doing a lot of nothing and everything at the same time these days. Things that fall into the everything category are those that yield some form of payment and career-advancing results; things that fall into the nothing category are those to which I devote time and gain zero benefit from—not even a sense of accomplishment or personal satisfaction, to say nothing of a paycheck. When I’m done with the real work, I move on to the play work, and that’s the point when I start swimming in circles, following the same path that never progresses. When I’m done, I’ll realize I’ve played a part in helping someone else reach their goal, yet I’ve made no progress of my own.

Obviously that needs to change, and I know it’s going to be hard. I like to help people, and I’ve never turned down a friend who needs my professional eye or advice. I’ve volunteered quite a bit of my time to helping people build up their own initiatives, whether it’s been a blog or website or book. Some of these ventures have been resume builders, some have not. I’ve helped out because I like being able to say I played a part in making x,y,z come to fruition. In the end, though, these ventures have not been my own. I’ve helped fill in a piece of the puzzle for the owners, and as they continue fitting the rest of the pieces together, they are the ones who will ultimately see the benefit of my work.

As much fun as that’s been, I’d be doing myself a disservice continuing to work that way. So no more taking on projects that are not mutually beneficial. If I can’t make a noteworthy contribution or take away something valuable from the experience, it’s off limits. Starting today.

Mush

My lack of posting here makes it painfully obvious that I tend to ignore this little corner of the blogosphere when life—life offline, that is—gets busy. It’s not that I haven’t had much to say lately. Quite the opposite, actually; I’ve been mulling over big thoughts and little thoughts and wondering what exactly to do with them. Do I write about them here? Do I keep them to myself? Do I e-mail my friends and family and let them figure things out for me? I don’t know.

I start my days by hitting snooze, taking a shower, and stuffing Golden Grahams in my mouth before they have time to get soggy from the milk in my bowl. I get on a bus that takes me to work where I sit in an office for four hours trying to figure out process and etiquette. When my time is up there I come home, take the dog out, weigh my need to procrastinate against my need to do freelance work, and black out and come to three hours later to find that some of my work has gotten done and my browsing history consists of 20 random websites and blogs I don’t even remember reading.

I’m struggling to maintain an interest in personal blogs these days. So many are full of self-promotional banners, buttons, and links, and it’s just so difficult to find a blog wherein the writer isn’t asking every visitor to post a comment or retweet it or put it on Facebook or whatever. It’s a turn off, having the sinking feeling that someone is trying to make his or her personality fill a sliver of a niche. I’m not going to market you, she says unapologetically. If you find that irksome, just go ahead and push that red button so the trap door beneath my feet opens up and swallows me whole. I’m OK with it.

I have more pressing concerns to deal with, like wondering why my mother thinks it is acceptable to forward me the obituary for my great aunt preceded only with the line, “Aunt H____ passed away Sunday morning.” No greeting, no buffer, no closing. Just that. Wonderful communication skills. Was that an attempt at delivering shock value? I imagine my mother-in-law passing along such a message, and suddenly it takes on a different shape, a different light. There’s a gentle preface, an expression of regret, something like, Just wanted to let you know…what a shame. Not just a robotic report of ones and zeroes.

It’s thoughts like this that make me think I’m being too critical. Everyone has their own way of approaching these situations. The way I would write an e-mail is not necessarily the way someone else would. Just because I would de-clutter and dust my house before having a party doesn’t mean someone else would. The way I would interact with a salesperson is not the same way someone else would. I understand this, but I still criticize people for doing these things differently (or not at all).

I don’t think I should be as bothered by these things as I am. These particular actions of others’ have no effect on my well-being or environment. Being frustrated by them is not worth the emotional energy. I keep telling myself I need to simplify my life and improve my outlook, and this is a good example of something I can change without losing anything.

In Which Sense and Courtesy Are Not So Common

I went to see my doctor on Tuesday, and my visit confirmed two things. One, I don’t like my PCP. Two, I will never be one of those mothers who thinks my child is entitled to use a public waiting room like it’s her own personal playroom.

The whole reason I went to see my doctor is because I’ve been having a lot of stomach pain and discomfort. I’ve also been feeling really out of it when I’m hungry. My doctor wanted to know how many hours I wait between meals and snacks, and she asked me what I had eaten so far that day. When I answered her, she looked at me like I had six heads. She furrowed her brow and screwed up her face like I had just thrown up on her.

I guess she didn’t like my answers. A+ for bedside manner.

She proceeded to ask me some questions that I felt could have been answered by looking at my chart. In particular, one of her questions was about my weight and whether I’ve experienced any weight gain. She didn’t ask about a time frame or an amount. I wasn’t really sure what to say, although, “Look at my chart, dummy,” was on the tip of my tongue.

At the end of my appointment, she told me she was going to have the nurse come back to do a quick blood test. She specifically said she would come back and explain the results to me. The nurse took the sample, left the room, and came back a few minutes later telling me I was free to leave. I had to ask whether my doctor was coming back to talk to me (no) and if the test result was OK (apparently it wasn’t worth explaining to me). No wonder so many people leave their doctors’ offices feeling confused and ill-informed.

Before I left the office, I had to stop at the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. When I got there, a girl who looked like she was about 4 years old was spread out on the floor completely blocking the path to the “Pick Up” window. She was on her stomach, coloring in a coloring book, kicking her little Ugg-clad feet back and forth in the air behind her. Her mother was standing a few feet away, just watching and looking on as everyone awkwardly stepped over and around her daughter. I can only guess this woman’s lack of common sense and courtesy had something to do with her ability to ignore completely miss all the death stares people were giving her. She was precisely the type of person who would have had a hissy fit if someone had stepped on her daughter or tripped over her. I’m not saying I wanted that to happen, but it would have made for an interesting scene.

I Think There’s a John Mayer Song in Here Somewhere

I went to a baby shower for a friend on Saturday, and despite being grumpy about having to get up early, I actually had a good time. It’s a little weird, though, seeing more of my friends having babies and raising kids. It makes me that much more aware of the distinct lack of baby in my household. But it’s not exactly making my ovaries burst with a desire to change that.

I’ll be turning 30 this year. When I was 22 (and completely naive), I thought I’d have at least two kids by now. It seemed like a given, although I don’t know why. I guess 30 seemed really old to me back then. My mom was 29 when she had me, and I was my parents’ second child. Maybe I thought I had to follow suit.

It couldn’t be more obvious that I didn’t. I mean, here I am, 29 years-old and childless. I want to have kids, but I don’t know when I’ll be ready. People say you’ll never be ready, and I understand why that is, but there’s a difference between not being ready for the unpredictable nature of babies and children and not being ready to make that sort of personal commitment to another human being.

Had things gone differently with my job last year at Company B, it’s quite possible that I would have felt ready for the challenge. Husband and I were in a holding pattern of sorts. We had both been at our jobs for a few years, we were settled in our house, we had a routine with the dog. Not much was changing. Now, everything changes all the time, mostly with me. I feel like I’m just starting out again, like I’m that 22 year-old who’s stepping out into the real world for the first time trying to get her bearings.

But I’m not 22; I’m almost 30. I don’t want to wait until I’m 35 or 40 to have kids. It bothers me a little that I’m not ready to take that step—that I’m still working so hard to figure things out for myself. I wonder when things will click and my feelings will change. Maybe I won’t feel like everything has to be all figured out in order to take that step. Just because things do get figured out doesn’t mean they’re going to stay that way, as I’ve learned.

I just sort of thought I’d have fewer challenges in my life by now and that finding a steady source of income wouldn’t be such an ongoing challenge. Sometimes I really wish I could be 22 again.

This Calls for a Happy Dance

Finally—I have some good news. I got a summer job! Don’t I sound like I’m 16?

You guys, I’m beyond thrilled. The position lasts for four months because I’m filling in for someone who is having a baby, and it’s 99 percent certain that she’s going to come back when her maternity leave ends. However! This could open up some doors for me as far as a permanent position is concerned. The names this position allows me to add to my resume won’t look too shabby, either.

Perhaps one of the most exciting things about this job is that I’ll be working in a small office with a group of people who seem (so far) to be normal. My boss described the office culture when I interviewed, and it sounded a lot like the environment at Company B, which is to say it’s professional without being stuffy, everyone is respectful yet friendly, and they are dedicated to their work but they are not running a factory. It sounds like a place where the people enjoy what they do, care about doing a good job, and promote a healthy work environment for reaching their goals.

When I left the interview, I knew I wanted to work there. I told Husband I hoped they would offer me the job. Less than a week later, I had an offer. Obviously, I accepted.

After the drama I experienced with Company A, this process was absolutely refreshing. As of yesterday, I still hadn’t heard from Company A. It had been three and a half weeks. Considering no formal interview had been necessary and I’m a former employee, that was just baffling. I only heard back from them when I contacted them to say that my availability had changed. Do you know what they said? That they would have offered their position to me later that day. They are nothing if not fond of waiting to do important tasks. I laughed.

Anyway, I’m excited about my new job. I start next week!

Self-improvement Update

Last evening, I went for my third run in the past four days. It felt great to be outside, especially since my route takes me down to the beach. I never ran on sand before moving to this area, but it feels pretty good. I do it mostly because I like to run by the water. There’s a paved path where the beach ends that twists along the shore, so even when I’m not on the beach I’m still running by the water. That’s much more appealing than running through the city or on a treadmill, both of which I used to do regularly.

It feels awesome to be running again. It’s such an addictive activity, and I guess if I’m going to be addicted to something, it may as well be exercise. My goal is to run at least twice a week (serious runners, I hear you scoffing) and maybe four times max. I don’t want to overdo it, and that’s totally possible given my all-or-nothing tendencies. When I was religious about running, I would do five or six miles a day five times a week. For me, that was a lot. And truthfully, it was difficult to maintain that level of activity over a long period of time. I’d always scale back after two months or so and cut way back before slowly returning to that level. At this point, I’m running to feel good, not to feel pain. So getting outside and running a few times a week is really all I need to do.

I’m still doing lots of pilates on the days I’m not running, and I can tell I’m getting stronger as a result. I’ve lost a little bit of weight, although I think that has more to do with my diet (see: temporary hiatus from alcohol and ice cream). I started keeping a food journal, which is something I never really felt the need to do before, but I’m going to try it out and see if it has any effect on my eating habits. If anything, it will show me where I can make improvements. I know what I want to eat throughout the day (more nutrient-rich foods instead of bagels, for example), and it’s definitely within reach, but curbing my snacking is the primary and most difficult habit I need to break.

At least I’m making progress, and I’m feeling better inside and out.