Okay, so come go with me to last Tuesday in the workplace. But before I continue, I just have to say that no amount of schooling really prepares a person for the world of work. I mean there is drama, politics, and green (
Cut to now in the midst of a bad economy and a company mandate to restructure. My new boss says there is no “I” in team and thinks that GOB and I are working together because GOB should be passing information and workload down the pipe…but my desk is looking clean, while his looks like a tornado hit it. I mean I have to get paper from the printer and scribble on it just to make it look like I’m doing something… And if I wasn’t bored out my mind it would be a good look, but I feel like I’m wasting my time, I'm upset because I'm being underutilized and becoming an angry black woman inside.
Okay, so back to last Tuesday-Amaretto was at her desk, after back to back meetings, and since she had no real work to do she had to work on her post because we here at the 5 spot also have deadlines. So whilst I was typing away…GOB comes over to Amaretto’s cube, walks next to her, leans in, looks at her computer, and asks what are you working on? Ummmm. Excuse me? Technically we are at the same level, though he likes to think he’s my boss (and most likely will end up being my boss). But it was just so rude in my book! Who does that?So as you know straws break camels’ backs, well this was my straw!
In my ire I open my outlook and I write an email about GOB. Did I mention that he is fat? Yeah he is. And I said that several times in my email to my friend. That he’s all sorts of fat, and I can’t believe that he’s so bold and brazen to look at my computer screen, blah blah blah. SEND!Um, word to the wise and foolish alike, don’t ever write an email in your anger, because it wasn’t until time passed and I still hadn’t heard from my friend that I realized, in the most horrible-Greek tragedy type way that I had sent my scathing email to GOB himself! And though I never used his name, I did describe the situation perfectly and like I said I called him all sorts of Fatty Mcfaterson! I.Felt.Horrible.
And so the great dilemma, after certain expletives were expressed, was what do I do now? I couldn’t recall the message. I couldn’t say it wasn’t about him. Like the devil, GOB had made me do it, by not sharing the workload and looking at my computer-as if I was doing more work he could take from me...so it served his sneaky butt right! But those facts are beside the point, I made a big ole stankin’ my bad! Do I let it ride out or apologize? What would you have done if this were you?
See You In Seven