Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Some Days

Some days you kill the bear. Some days, the bear kills you.

Some days, you get to work, ready to confront that employee who’s been making mistakes. Then that other employee, the really good one, pulls you aside and tells you she’s quitting. And you have to say congratulations, because you know she’s going to a better job, but it’s easier to say, ’Shit, we’re gonna miss you.’ And you have to stop yourself from feeling jealous that she’s going to a better (paying) job. And that doesn’t work.

And then some days--then--you get to meet with the employee who’s been making mistakes. Fun! Because now you have to be very Direct and Clear and....And you do all of that, and it’s only later that your colleague, the only other person who was in the room, tells you, ‘Wow, usually I’m the bad cop.’

Then over lunch, this colleague, an American whom you like very much, tells you that it was 26 years before she realized she would never live in the USA again. And some days, this is just not what you need to hear.

Then some days, you go into a meeting that should take half an hour, but it takes two, drifting...into the Van Ryan Belt.

Some days you rush home from work and stop off at the grocery store that isn't so good, because if you go anywhere else, you'll be late and that's not fair to the babysitter.

And you play with the kids and you cook dinner and sometimes the kids are a handful and that's really okay because they're beautiful. But at the dinner table you hang your head and tell your six year old and your two and a half year old that you're exhausted from all the drama.

And you give them their bath and your wife comes home to help put them to bed and that's great. Then some nights your wife leaves again for a class, and you clean up the kitchen and the living room and the bathroom and you cook up that hamburger too because otherwise it'll go bad.

Then another employee SMS's to tell you they're sick and won't be in for the rest of the week. So you call your boss to discuss how to squeeze by without that employee. and you look at your watch and hey, it's nine-thirty p.m.!

And you sit down to watch a silly old tv show.

And some nights, your wife comes home again and the second thing she says is, 'Which supermarket did you go to? These apples are totally rotten!'

And sometimes you lose it. You employ sarcasm, you get angry, you throw up your hands. 'Doesn't she understand what a sad, bad day dad had?' Sometimes you break your own rule. You go to bed mad.

Some days.


Ed Ward said...

Interesting. I can't remember when I realized I'm almost certainly not going to go back to the States to live, but it didn't affect me one way or another. Now, if it were impossible for me to go back for a visit, that'd be another thing. But I've quite happily accepted the fact that I'll likely die (of old, old age) in Europe.

When you feel like it, I'd love to hear you expand on that part of this post.

pat said...

I'll try to do that, Ed.
By the way, where are you? And will you be starting another blog?

Tricia Mitchell said...

So sorry, Dad, about the sad day you had!

(and going to bed mad is not the worst thing. Pillows are instruments of healing).

Ed Ward said...

I'm in France, and if France Telecom will ever turn my damn line on, I'll have another blog. As it is, I have to work out of a bar with wi-fi -- and I'll have been doing it for three months come Sunday!

As you might guess from that, I've got some things to say about France...

Anonymous said...

hi pat,
just to tell you, there are other days too. on wednesday, i got the scores from my english test you were helping me to pass. AND I PASSED WITH A REALLY HIGH SCORE!!!
thank's a lot!
the lancaster girl