I guess I wore my grumpy pants to work tonight. Oops. Except I was wearing a skirt…so maybe I accidentally put on my mean-girl panties today.
I literally got off the phone with a customer and slammed the phone back into its cradle with so much force that, after I had retreated from the desk to pout for a minute, I returned to make sure the phone still worked. That woulda been a bummer, eh?
And then my friend and co-worker was trying to read a business-related Facebook post over my shoulder and I was scrolling too fast and then she asked me to slow down and I snapped at her, something mean that I (truthfully) don’t remember. But then I felt bad about 2 seconds later, sought her out and apologized. Double oops.
What happened, Anna? At this moment, while writing this post, I am thinking, Yeah, what did happen, Anna, and why the heck are you going to post about it on the Internet, this unresolved, messy little piece of you-kn0w-what?
I’m impatient, you know. I don’t want to walk across the parking lot in the rain to figure out why you can’t connect to the WiFi. I don’t want to wait around while you restart your computer; and did you know that googling the random error code your computer is producing is definitely not in my job description? No, I don’t want to wait on hold while you talk things over with your (fill in the blank). And did you know, Mr. Call Center Representative, that I already entered that identifying information into your phone system before it transferred me 7 times? And by the way, when I leave a note on our employee communication board that certain tasks need to be done this weekend, that means I figure they’ll be done when I get back to work a couple days later, seriously people.
It’s astonishing, embarrassing. I’m getting paid by the hour to do stuff just like this, help customers, make business-related phone calls…yet I’m impatient, as if there are more important things I could be doing. More important stuff like what? The social media marketing your boss wants you to do, but you so strongly dislike? Clipping coupons from the grocery ads? Surfing Facebook?
I just couldn’t talk myself out of that bad attitude tonight. My co-workers don’t know Jesus like I do, so I am conscious of wanting to, you know, be a good example. I am thankful to have a job and a paycheck. Lots of people want a job and can’t get one, right? Or at least I can say I’m thankful. But no matter what I said, it didn’t make a difference. It’s now that I’ve been home for an hour and had the chocolate and wine I was craving that I see the ridiculousness a bit more clearly. I guess I should have brought a change of nice-girl panties.