Coping Strategies During Tough Times

As I write this, we are in Day 36 of the 2025 US Government shutdown, currently the longest in US history (#1 and #2 both happened under a certain administration). In addition to the rollbacks of several rights and dignities, handouts of questionable pardons, large-scale layoffs in special education, mental health, food and drug safety, more key positions that keep us all safe, and a general breakdown of decency that have avalanched on top of us over the past year, the US currently faces: 42 million of the most vulnerable Americans who rely on Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) benefits left without access to food; Affordable Care Act (ACA) recipients (again, the most vulnerable) saw health insurance premiums increase as much as 300% this weekend; An impending chaos as airports, who have already have challenges with staffing shortages and equipment failure, now have air traffic controllers and TSA agents working without pay (could we see certain airspace closed if the shutdown continues?). While people are struggling and suffering, both sides are blaming each other, sometimes with slander and lies – more like schoolyard blame than adults who are supposed to be governing us.

The Vibe is Different”
Working at the Salem Visitor Info Booth, talking to friends and colleagues, and handing out Halloween candy with neighbors this year, one of the conversations that always came up unbidden was that “something” was off this year. “The vibe is different downtown,” said one of the volunteers at the booth. “I just haven’t felt the Halloween spirit, even when walking around the city, this year,” came from a friend that absolutely lives for this season. My husband and our neighbor echoed the same sentiment even as we were handing our candy to small children in costume (and some teenagers not in costume) – probably the exact moment we should have been in the spirit. To everyone that brought this up, I asked “Why do you think that is?” Answers always included some version of “The world is sh!t right now and I am just over it – every day it’s something else to add to the pile and I can’t enjoy the small things anymore.”

Disassociation
My husband and I have stopped watching the news. News articles or headlines are ignored, and we now get our news from discussions with friends (who can deal with reading the news) and through late night talk show hosts giving us the news with a side of humor. This is not an ideal situation, but when news items cause my blood pressure to rise or make me angry, that is directly affecting my health. It feels as if we all have the sword of Damocles hanging over us. Short of living off the grid in the mountains somewhere, avoiding the news altogether is an impossible task.

So what do you do to help alleviate the anxiety, depression, and feeling of hopelessness
and defeat that can come from a situation almost entirely out of our hands?

Quiet Solo Activities
Since childhood, I’ve turned to reading to escape and enter new worlds. While I can enjoy diving into non-fiction I am deeply interested in, I almost always choose sci-fi, fantasy, magical realism, period, historical, romantic, mystery, or literary fiction. These genres, by default, can sweep you away from yourself and your everyday surroundings. I am currently re-reading a series (two trilogies and multiple novellas) that I have loved for years in preparation of the final book that was just released. Going to the library, browsing online for ebooks or audiobooks, and adding to my to-be-read list are also comforts because I know that I won’t have to struggle to find the next read or listen after I’ve finished the one(s) I’m on. This pre-planning will become a theme…

If you’ve seen some of my other posts, you know that I enjoy sewing – whether that’s creating a costume or putting together an outfit for the Info Booth, sewing an orange fleece coat because I couldn’t find one in the store (picture here), making a quilt for a neighbor’s baby, toys for my nieces and nephews, or cabana outfits for an upcoming vacation, I find peace in the planning and execution of a creative project with a clear, tangible, end goal. Even with the most complicated pattern or difficult technique, I am still enjoying the process and can zone out from everything but the project itself. I haven’t worked on anything lately, partly because I gained a lot of stress weight and am in the process of losing it. Every time I think about wanting to start something for myself, I hesitate because I don’t want to create something in the wrong size. I’ve done that before with long projects. Plus, I am still mourning the loss of Joann Fabrics…

I play the ukulele because music is a part of my upbringing and my soul. I haven’t picked it up in a few weeks now (and that makes me sad), but when I can learn a new song or improve my fingering on something, it makes me feel good – and who doesn’t smile when you here a uke?!?

I have always loved puzzles, but in 2013 I started amassing a pile of them. I’m not sure I remember why. I would set them up on a table or on the window seat and spend an hour each day, or a whole weekend day, putting them together, then I would package it up and pass it on to a friend to do. It became a favorite winter pastime to set them up in the window and watch the snow come down while I listened to some LPs (this started as a reason to get up from the chair periodically, because I had to flip or change the record). I created the hashtag #drunkpuzzling for social media and after buying a fold-up puzzle table, made several playlists on Spotify (so I wouldn’t have to get up!). While they are not a frequent as they have been, I finished a Horror Movie one last month (thematic!) and still have a stack of unopened boxes in my office.

When none of the above seems palatable after dinner, and I am left to my own devices to entertain myself, I put YouTube on the TV. Most of my subscriptions are cozy, slow, informative, emotional, and/or quirky things that bring me a little peace and a bit of serotonin. It could be top 10 lists of nostalgic things from my childhood, Golden Girls best-of clips, cooking demonstrations, cocktail history, late night monologues, comedy specials, live performances, sewing tutorials, author interviews, deep sea cameras, drone footage of Hawaii, mythology, Salem trip vloggers (looking for people I know), or it could be a content creator that I enjoy and feel a kinship with. Kathleen Illustrated reminds me of one of my local friends that is a spark of joy in my life. Rachel Maksy is the quintessence of “cozy” with a side of chaotic floor goblin. These are my people! In fact, this video inspired me to take up the next diversion.

Are all gays artistic, or is it just because we knew the Art Room at school was a safe space? I joke, but leaning into artistic pursuits has always been a comfort to me, whether performing, painting, crafting, or just making-up stories. Rachel’s video (and probably some bourbon?) inspired me to order a small travel watercolor set, papers, and brushes. My (again, bourbon…) aspiration was that I would take the kit on our next trip and spend some time relaxing on a beach and painting (Spoiler: I did take it with me, but didn’t paint on vacation – I did paint when I was back home from pictures I took, though). Watercolor is so counter-intuitive to what I had known in using acrylic paints for the past 40+ years (light to dark vs. dark to light; translucence vs. opaque, etc), that I failed in my first attempts and had to buy a few how-to-books to actually learn how to use them. It’s a work-in-progress, but hopefully one I will stick with.

About three years ago, we were both frustrated with deciding what to eat for dinner, so I caved and signed up for a meal service. We have since gone through 4 services in that time – switching each time due to the lack of variety. The last service we had was interesting, but the meals were hit-or-miss. Over the last few weeks, we would opt not to eat dinner over having one of the pre-packaged meals. We ended up wasting food and that made me mad. I downgraded for the month of October (it was too busy here, so I needed the convenience that month) and then cancelled. I signed-up for a 14 day trial on a well-known recipe site for $1. I spent a few hours each day going through the entire 400+ recipe archive, printing anything that looked interesting or matched our tastes, then cancelled before being charged the full fee. I laid the printouts all out on the table by category (meat entrée, dessert, pasta, side, vegetarian, etc) and chose menus for whole weeks. I would choose a roast or some recipe that took several hours and feed 4 or more people to cook on Sundays with leftovers on Monday. I chose a lighter or quicker meal for Tuesdays (a day one or both of us often have other commitments or limited time) like soup or salads. I picked a contrast dinner on Wednesday based on what we had for Sunday/Monday (e.g. chicken, pork or seafood if we had beef for Sunday/Monday). Our friend comes over every Thursday, which typically turned into takeout when we had the meal services, so this was the second meal I chose (after the Sun/Mon decision) each week, focusing on what all three of us would like and varying it over time. I decided to make Friday and Saturday optional (leaving space for whimsy, leftovers, or eating out), with a backup pizza recipe each week – I then made a batch of dough and froze portions for that purpose. Once I was happy with each week’s plan (taking into account Thanksgiving, travel, etc), I clipped them all together and made a cover sheet with a shopping list. This last exercise actually helped me to reorder some weeks to take advantage of buying an ingredient once to cover 2 or more weeks in a row, optimizing value. I’m aware that this all sounds like a lot of work, but it’s that preparation and creative outlet of putting it all together that I enjoy. It also gives me the peace of mind to know that everything is planned from now through the first week of January 2026 without thinking about it again. I’ve automated it. If we like the recipes, they can be recycled into the next plan, or we can start over from scratch again. Like creating something on the sewing machine, this research, preparation and gathering materials is all part of what brings me comfort. In addition, I LOVE to cook. Preparing a meal is another Zen-like task that brings me into focus, and like all of the pursuits above, having a tangible (edible!) end product to enjoy at the end of the labor is a love and a feeling of accomplishment, especially when if brings joy to others.

Coping Together
I’ll leave out the obvious activities (this is not that kind of blog!), but when my husband is not pursuing his solo coping mechanisms (journaling, napping, learning how to create AI videos for school, focusing on cleaning, listening to audiobooks), we watch movies and TV series together, sit and listen to old radio shows, work on our business, plan for vacations (real and fantasy), go to the casino to use freeplay, research things on YouTube, sit and laugh at comedy shows or late night monologues, or just sit and read while sitting next to each other with the cats sitting on our laps. It is easier to cope together, and I am so fortunate and thankful that we have each other as support.

Helping Others Cope
Local food pantries are looking for volunteers to cover extended hours, or for more food and financial donations – if your local grocery store is having a buy 2, get 3 promotion, consider getting extra and donating to those in need. Offer help (directly or indirectly) to someone in need – “I bought too many vegetables/made too much soup, do you want some?” Invite someone who is alone or struggling to dinner. Offer to drive your neighbor to appointments so they don’t have to pay for a ride on top of increased healthcare expense. Spread joy through your actions. Spread laughter. Spread love.

We don’t know how long these troubling times are going to be, or what new trials we may need to face, but if we support each other and come together as a people, we can survive and possibly come out of this better than before.

So… how are you coping?

Separating Art from Artist: The Harry Potter Dilemma

Harry Potter, a beloved series that has captured the hearts of millions, remains a cherished part of the literary world. J.K. Rowling, the author behind the magic, has shaped a generation’s childhood with her captivating storytelling and imaginative world-building. However, over the years, Rowling has faced significant backlash for her controversial statements and viewpoints, leaving many fans conflicted. In this post, we’ll explore the complex relationship of loving an artistic creation while simultaneously disliking or disagreeing with its creator.

Before delving into the disapproval of J.K. Rowling’s personal beliefs, it’s essential to acknowledge the extraordinary gift she has given us through the Harry Potter series. For millions, these books are more than just stories; they’re a world to escape to, characters to adore, and lessons to learn. The magic of Rowling’s writing transcends age, gender, and nationality, making it a global phenomenon. It has inspired not only books, but also movies, merchandise, theme parks, and an entire subculture dedicated to celebrating the Wizarding World.

However, even amidst the enchantment of the Wizarding World, it’s hard to ignore the controversy stirred by J.K. Rowling. In recent years, she has expressed controversial opinions (that I won’t dignify by linking to) on social media that have been widely criticized. Most notably, her stance on transgender issues and her comments on gender identity have ignited outrage and debate. Her views have been seen as harmful and transphobic by many, leading to a backlash among fans, fellow authors, and stars of her film adaptations.

For those of us who value diversity, inclusivity, and acceptance, it is challenging to reconcile our love for Harry Potter with our disapproval of J.K. Rowling’s beliefs. This struggle represents a moral dilemma for fans who want to support and enjoy the world she created, yet feel uncomfortable with her personal views.

One way to approach this conflict is by separating the art from the artist. Though hard for some, try to continue to appreciate the work of art (in this case, the Harry Potter series) while disagreeing with or even condemning the artist’s personal beliefs or actions. It allows you to find joy in the Wizarding World without necessarily endorsing or supporting J.K. Rowling’s controversial statements. It may be easier to do this with an author or visual artist that is ‘out of sight’ from the work and far more difficult to separate an actor or musician who is performing their work.

Another way to navigate this complex relationship is by engaging in constructive dialogue. Loving Harry Potter doesn’t mean you have to agree with everything J.K. Rowling says or does. By openly discussing the problematic aspects of her beliefs and their impact on marginalized communities, fans can contribute to a more inclusive and empathetic fandom. Engaging in respectful dialogues and advocating for change is essential to ensure that the love for the series is not marred by its creator’s opinions.

In response to the controversy, many fans have chosen to amplify the voices of transgender and non-binary individuals, promoting and consuming literature and media created by authors who represent a more inclusive and accepting worldview. This approach not only allows fans to continue enjoying magical stories but also sends a strong message that the values of the Wizarding World should align with the principles of diversity and acceptance.

People say: “I’m not buying this game,” or “I’m not going to Universal Studios” because they don’t want to support her. Let’s be real: J.K. Rowling already got the money. She constantly gets money. She is the owner of one of the most popular IPs in the world. Any time one of the Harry Potter films gets aired on TV? She gets a royalty check. Any time someone buys a ticket to get access to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Studios? Royalty check. When someone else wants to use her IP to make a standalone production, like the Cursed Child play, or a LEGO set, or a computer game? Royalties, royalties, royalties. With or without your help, she gets the money anyway. In most cases, your boycott only hurts the company that is creating the thing that they licensed from her, like the video game developers, LEGO designers, movie studios, toy manufacturers, etc.

Loving something but disagreeing with its creator is a complex and personal journey. The magic of the Wizarding World is undeniable, but the controversies surrounding the author cannot be ignored. It’s essential for fans to find a way to navigate this dilemma, whether by separating the art from the artist, engaging in constructive dialogue, or supporting diverse voices in literature. In doing so, fans can continue to cherish the enchanting world of Harry Potter while upholding the values of acceptance and inclusivity that it has come to represent for so many.

While the title and content here center around the world of Harry Potter and it’s creator, I could easily have chosen any one of these:

Michael Jackson, R. Kelly, Bill Cosby, Picasso, Lewis Carroll, Neil Gaiman, Dr. Seuss, Hunter S. Thompson, George Orwell, Gertrude Stein, Ernest Hemingway, Joan Crawford, Roald Dahl, William Golding, Sean Connery, Kevin Spacey, Caravaggio, Paul Gauguin, Flannery O’Connor, Patricia Highsmith, Orson Scott Card, Johnny Cash, Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis, Miles Davis, Morrissey, James Brown, Phil Specter, P. Diddy,… The list goes on and on.

I started this post a year or two ago and left it in the Draft folder because so much has already been written about this dilemma. When I chose to wear my wizard outfit for the Info Booth this year, I wondered how I would be perceived (agreeing with her? oblivious?), which is why I hid the Hogwarts patch and wore my Pride pin prominently. Even if the visitors didn’t interact with me, I wanted them to see that you can celebrate a fantasy world you have come to love and also celebrate inclusion. Before my shift, I re-read what I had put in here to arm myself should anyone confront me. I did have a few nice conversations with like-minded individuals and one parent that was happy to talk about their child going through the same dilemma. All of those conversations greatly added to this post.

What are your thoughts?

Writing Prompt: Do you remember life before the internet?

Daily writing prompt
Do you remember life before the internet?

Yes. I’m Gen X.

Well that would have been a very short post…

In junior high school, I had typing class. There was a special classroom fitted with desks holding electric typewriters. Not word processors (my college essays were written on), but electric typewriters, with ink, paper, and satisfyingly clunky keyboards. On holidays, we made typography ‘artwork’ by following instructions (55 “X”, Return, 30 spaces, 57 “m”, etc) that, when finished, created a picture made of letters and symbols. I ended-up Valedictorian of my graduating class (#humblebrag), but typing and gym were my worse subjects by far. The typing teacher would put a piece of paper covering my hands so I couldn’t see what I was typing. I had to rely on the hand placement around ASDF JKL: and ‘feel’ my way to the other letters without peeking. I cheated more than I should have, and regretted it later in life. Today (34 years later), I’m more proficient and can type quite quickly without looking. I wonder what my speed is (remember Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing)? Maybe I could be a stenog!

“Speed Test” from the original Broadway cast of Thoroughly Modern Millie

When we moved up to the high school, there was a “computer lab” full of Apple IIe desktops with files and files of floppy disks (the actually floppy 8 inch ones – do you know how you keep them from being written over? you cut a notch in the side of them…). These machines were relatively new, but just at the end of their lifecycle. The screens were black and green, and the MS-DOS game of Math Rabbit required several floppy disks to be inserted to play. I remember a full screen of ‘code’ just for the machine to draw a square (<run>). By the time I was a senior, I was writing essays and term papers on a Brother Word Processor that looked a lot like the electronic typewriters of years before, but I could type and edit an entire page on a one-line green and black screen before it typed on the paper. It saved on ink and white-out, but today’s kids would have had a very hard time with it.

The World Wide Web went public in 1993, while I was graduating. My small town library didn’t have internet, and neither did the school. When I went to college, there was a more sophisticated computer lab, but you had to sign-up for time to use the computers attached to the World Wide Web, and you had to pay per minute of usage. By junior year (1995-1996), we had email, and all of the machines in the lab were connected to the internet. I remember printing out (on a dot-matrix printer) email from my college boyfriend. Personal computers were extremely expensive. I didn’t have my own until the 2000s.

If you followed-along on my post about my job experiences, the internet didn’t really change my life until I worked at the touring theatre production company. Out of college, I ran a dinner theatre. We didn’t have internet, we had tap dancing! I wasn’t even able to use the internet to find the touring production job. I saw it in the newspaper (in print!) and mailed (by post!) my application for the job. Then they called me on a landline (!!!) to set-up an interview. This all seems SO CRAZY when I’m writing it, but that’s how it was. I didn’t have my first cell phone until 1998!

Anyway, the next job was for a touring theatrical production company based in downtown Boston. There was a Cellular One store two doors down (later CingularOne, then AT&T), and on a lunch break I went an purchased my first Nokia phone (indestructible!) with the number I still have 25 years later. I still didn’t have internet. The phone made and received calls, and could keep my calendar. While we had computers at our desks, they ran DOS in a closed system that tracked reservations and ticket sales. After a year of being in the office, I discovered there was one computer in the corner of the office connected to the internet (dial-up). The owner had set it up because someone told her it was important, but no one used it. One day, she asked if I knew how to use this “web” thing. I went in every chance I got to look for discounted show tickets, travel deals, and venue research for her. A year later, they gave us email and connected all of our CPUs to the internet. They gave us a day to ‘get used to’ to internet and to play around. Our office manager, a longtime user of newspaper personal ads, found the online ads and loudly proclaimed; “They have ones for you!” As a gay single man in an office of young straight females, I was suddenly the center of attention as they all crowded around my computer to see what the gay ones looked like. I don’t know if you’ve experienced Yahoo personals in 1999, but they were…specific… and graphic. After 2 or 3 “Daddy looking for a pig bottom” and “CD for a…” they all ran away. I looked at a few more and one popped-out at me:

Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death

Auntie Mame

A quote from Auntie Mame? My favorite movie of ALL TIME?! Then it went on to say that they were looking for gay friends, wanting to explore the city, etc. I was living, at the time, in South Boston with three straight single women. Every night it was Will & Grace & Grace & Grace. If we went to a club or a party, they got free drinks from sleazy guys wanting to get with them, then I was the ‘boyfriend’ at the end of the night if they didn’t want to take them home. Sometimes they would all come home with someone, but I was always alone. Though the ad said “looking for 25 and older,” and I was technically months away from 25, I wrote to him, which started a months-long correspondence.

SPOILER ALERT: That man and I are celebrating the 24th anniversary of our first date later this year, and just celebrated 9 years of marriage.

There have been dark times brought about in my life because of the internet, but since I would not have the life I have now without it, I can forgive those moments. I use it almost constantly for work and for personal use, and you are using it right now to read this story. How insane is that?

So… do you remember life before the internet?

Translating Experience

Daily writing prompt
What jobs have you had?

The writing prompt is “What jobs have you had?”

You say “Jack-of-all-trades (master of none).” I prefer “Renaissance man.” One is a cut, the other a compliment (of a sort).

I started my work experience at the age of 15. After many years of obsessing over every movie musical that came on television, or I could get at the video store (we are talking 1989 here), I decided it was time to take tap dancing lessons. The local dance studio was only a mile from home, near my Aunt’s house. At the time, a family friend, her daughter, and my cousin all had 2-year old toddlers (yes, one was the uncle to the other, it was a surprise to everyone!). The grandmother/mother of two of them lived 2 doors from my Aunt. I became babysitter to one of them on several afternoons and all three once a week. I used that money to enroll in classes down the street. From this, I learned patience, entertaining a tough audience, perseverance, conflict management, and how to care for another human being.

At 16, I started work at a family-owned small convenience store and deli. Looking back, I cherish the time spent there. It was truly being in a second family, I got to know the regulars, I learned valuable skills in retail, point-of-sale, merchandising, cooking, customer service, time management, and working as a team. For some reason, this small store became a central hub for Swedish and Scandinavian specialties, especially at Christmas. The owners were not Scandinavian, but they embraced this niche. We sold lutefisk (frozen, I called them porcelain fish for the sound they made when they hit the counter), made spice bags for Glogg, sold Cardamom braids (yum!!!) and Lingonberries, and made Swedish meatballs decades before IKEA made it to Massachusetts. We were so busy that former employees would come in to help during the season, making it even more of a family reunion party atmosphere. The store has been gone for many years, but a few of us still wax nostalgic at the joy we feel when smelling cardamom when it gets close to the holidays, or we think of stealing cookie dough from the freezer.

The summer before I left for college, I joined the Avon Parks & Recreation Department as a counselor at the day camp run on the high school grounds. It was free for residents and included open play, crafts, and sports for most of the day on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, with paid field trips on Tuesdays and Thursdays for certain age groups. Building on my babysitting skills, I honed patience, entertaining a tough audience, perseverance, conflict management, crafting, pedagogy, security in crowds, and emotional support/encouragement. The kids were 6-16 years old, and in this day and age, I can’t imagine them being left in the care of semi-untrained teenagers and young adults.

In college, I held two very different positions. For the first 2 years, I was a “Script Librarian.” We had a closet full of theatre scripts with a very small desk in it. Students could come and borrow and script, or set of scripts, for use in their classes or performances. I sat there and catalogued, itemized, and tracked them all. The copious amounts of downtime gave me ample opportunity to read through most of them, which came in handy when I was advising younger students on where to find an audition monologue or scene to stage. For my last 2 years, I was a “Safety Escort.” <hold for snickering> My college had a “boozer cruiser” – a 10-passenger van that drove students around the campus at night for free. You would call the dispatch (a lonely room in the campus police building) and the van would drive you wherever you needed to go on campus. Driving around was fun, because you got to be out and interacting with other students (even if they were drunk or high). It was always entertaining. Being in the dispatch office was creepy and lonely, but that’s when I could practice lines or dance steps. Being a theatre major, I had a lot of late nights rehearsing, then I would pick-up the 12-4am shift. When I was in the dispatch office, someone would call at 2am and I would answer the phone in a husky, sleep-deprived, sung-too-much-in-rehearsal bass: “Safety Escort, how may I assist you?” More than once, I had a drunk student (both sexes) purr at me and ask if I was the one picking them up. From this job, I further developed customer service, conversing with strangers, safe driving, dealing with difficult customers, how to save a drunk girl from getting into a dangerous situation, and using humor to diffuse tense situations. I relished the alone time in the van between pickups and at the dispatch office, but also the constant entertainment of the customers in the van.

For the summers between my Freshman and Junior years, I was a Meter Reader for Bay State Gas (now National Grid). My father worked there for over 40 years before he retired. I enjoyed commuting with him, and getting to know his colleagues those summers. Typically, the full-time readers would give us the worst routes, or a collection of unattainable readings over several routes (basically the sh1t jobs). Most of the time, I dealt with basements filled with dog poop, possible crack dens, lousy neighborhoods, and belligerent homeowners. Once in awhile, I would get one of the coastal towns of Scituate, Hingham, or Hull, where you walked along the beach to read the meters of cottages. Those were the best days. I remember reading the meter at La Salette Shrine one day, and sitting in the parking lot to eat my lunch. All of a sudden, a priest opens the passenger door and gets in, saying: “Hello my son, would you take me to the store?” This was strictly forbidden in the company truck (natural gas powered, of course), but I was raised Catholic and convinced my Mother would somehow know if I refused, so I took him on his errand. From this job, I explored a lot of the South Shore of Massachusetts, learned to deal with difficult people, to navigate the bureaucracy of a large corporation, that summer help are slaves, that unions are great, but sometimes protect those that shouldn’t be there, how to survive walking miles in the summer heat, how to cheat by saying you couldn’t get into a house that creeped you our or made you feel unsafe, and gave me an appreciation of all my Father did to take care of us.

Between Junior and Senior year, I attended a summer stock cattle call audition. Several local and regional troupes attended and made offers based on one 90-second song audition. I had some less than favorable offers, but was determined not to work at the Gas Company again. After turning down a troupe that paid nothing, a friend of my roommate called to say her friend needed guys that could dance. I drove out to Scituate (one of my favorite routes for meter reading) and auditioned for Showstoppers Dinner Theatre. Doug, the owner, producer, and sole employee, asked me to do a time step and sing a bit of a song, then hired me on the spot to be a sailor in Anything Goes. We would rehearse for 3 weeks and have 4 weeks of performances. During the first rehearsal in an unairconditioned church hall, we learned the choreography for the 88 counts of 8 that made the big dance number of the title song. That show kicked my ass and I lost all body fat and leaned-down to the best shape I’ve ever been in. Halfway through the run, I found out that 2 of the ensemble were here from Ithaca and that Doug had found them a place to live and a part-time job. I told him I needed a job, so he hired me to assist him for the rest of the summer. I painted and constructed sets, pulled costumes from storage, cleaned dressing rooms, worked in the box office, coordinated meal orders with the kitchen, acted as maitre’d, host, bus boy, and greeter, tour bus coordinator, usher, prop master, and sound and light engineer. On top of that, I was rehearsing and performing in every show. I was there at 8am every day and leaving at 2am most days. I was in heaven and I miss it so. The pay was below minimum wage, but I didn’t care. I assisted with choreography and vocal rehearsal for a children’s summer production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat while also performing 3 of the adult roles and running spot light and front of house. I co-developed and ran an after-school program for kids in one of the local schools and still performed in 2 productions and a tours to New Hampshire, Colorado and Florida while still attending my senior year of college, and when I graduated, Doug made me Associate Producer full-time, where I ran most things on my own so he could spend time with his family, assisted with another summer kids production (this time only with one dance number to fill-in for), more after school programs, and more tours. At the dinner theatre, I would sell the tickets, greet the guests, seat them, bus tables, change into my costume, perform, change back to my suit to work the dessert course during intermission, go back to costume to perform the second act, then back into the suit to escort the guests out, or perform in the post-show cabaret in the lounge. The lessons learned here were myriad, and it would take too long to list them. Work ethics, loving what you do and doing it well, having fun while you work, building relationships with colleagues and customers, and hard work were the cornerstones. It was exhausting, exhilarating, and the most fun I’ve ever had in a job before or since. I was overpaid and underworked and I would do it again in a heartbeat.

After 2 years there full-time, Doug moved us to a new restaurant partner in a new location. Unfortunately, after less than a year, they stole money from us, locked us out of our theatre, and thus started a legal battle. I was out of a job while they went to court, so I went looking for something, anything in the arts. I landed at a theatre production company in Boston. Well-established in the educational theatre space, they specialized in producing touring theatrical productions geared toward middle and high school students. We offered them shows that included 5 short stories of American classics dramatized with a cast of 5 actors, full sound, lights and sets. My initial job was to contact and coordinate the technical and financial specs of the theaters and halls across the country to build the tours. I was there for about a year (2 seasons) when I was recruited to move up to assist the Artistic Director. In that role, I coordinated casting calls in NYC, Chicago and Boston, worked with the Producer on hiring the actors, negotiated contracts and temporary housing, scheduling rehearsals and playing referee/translator between the Producer and Artistic Director whose relationship was well established, yet strained and complicated. At the heart of the entrance to the office and the bullpen of reservationists, I was the de facto receptionist, back-up reservation coordinator, and back-up assistant to the Producer/Owner/Founder. Aa Tony-winning Broadway producer, she was difficult and not easy to please. Handling the two strong energies between them, and handling everything she threw at me, gained me a status that granted me a lot of perks and a lot of extra responsibility (with none of the compensation). She went through 4 personal assistants during the 7 years I was there. During that time, I was the backup assistant, and guided each of the new assistants through their training and pitfalls, called during vacations for inane tasks that could have been handled by her assistant, sitting in the car so her nanny could come use the bathroom without parking the car or waking the baby, screening calls she didn’t want to take – you’ve all seen Devil Wears Prada – it was similar. From this job, I learned how to deal with difficult people, how to deal with celebrities, copyediting scripts, the politics or Broadway, dealing with egos, dealing with actors, dealing with stagehands, dealing with Teamsters, booking travel, booking and re-booking discounts for millionaires when you can’t afford to eat… and the list goes on. I did get to see a lot of free shows in Boston, and made friends with a lot of the local critics and producers, but in the end, the tension and working environment was toxic and it had to end. I still talk to other ‘survivors’ of our time there.

After asking me to do something she had no right to ask, then firing me for mentioning this to her, then trying to take away my unemployment benefits (she lost, and tried and failed the same thing with everyone since then), I landed a job at a music booking agency because of the very skills I learned from the last job. This agency specialized in Jazz and World Music artists. They were well established in the US, and had a strong footing in Europe, though there were many boutique agencies in the US and Europe that they competed with. I was brought in to assist two female strong-willed agents that could not/would not work together in the same way – sound familiar? I was to assist them with their bookings and keep the peace/translate between them. Their styles were diametrically opposite and that exacerbated the disdain and frustration they felt with each other. It was toxic beyond toxic. They tried to play the outgoing assistant against each other and drove her away. Being well-versed in this behavior, I jumped in and kept it all afloat and sorted. After a year or two, one of them left (the nicer one, obviously), and I continued assisting the remaining one, eventually taking-over some of her territory as a junior agent. She was NOT happy about it and only relinquished the territories she didn’t want. When the owner gave me some of her “friends” (she thought that, they definitely did not) as clients, and they immediately warmed to me, she complained and demanded to take them back, giving me her other undesirables. I grew my territory and the owner gave me more and more responsibilities and territory. Her rough American pushy nature ruffled a lot of feathers in Europe, so many of her remaining clients preferred to talk to me to finish deals rather than listen to her “show me the money” demands. Artists’ managers called to talk to me when she wasn’t around. I was my own agent, but acting as her assistant because of her manner. She eventually screwed the owner by starting her own agency under his nose and stealing several clients. Suddenly, I was the only agent for Europe, Asia and Africa. We hired other agents that came and went, but over 11 years there, my territories shifted and changed to a rag tag disconnected collection of problematic areas. Wars, financial collapse, political upheaval, visa issues, and an aging clientele brought a steep decline to my carved-out territories. Having seniority (read: pay scale) and the worst-performing territories (read: low income) = a buyout to leave. Having been burned before, the owner’s stipulations included that I could not discuss my departure, and could not work in the industry for one year. I gladly accepted following one of the last shows I booked. Maybe one day I will tell that story here, and though the artist has passed on, there could still be implications if I made it public. Stay tuned….
From this job, the longest of my careers so far, I learned a lot about deceit, back-stabbing, pettiness, slavery (I was, literally, selling people), overpromising, and the Artist as a commodity (the finances of a world-renown jazz vocalist will break your heart when you work out what the contract pays vs. what she actually takes home vs. what her managers take home). It’s not all negative, I also learned a lot about contract language, copyright, international travel and visas, currency exchange, high-end performance technology, riders, working with difficult people, customer service (for buyers, performers and managers), conflict resolution, conflict mitigation, interpersonal relationships via phone, email, and in person, professional travel, trade conference presentation, marketing, sales, website and software design, and how to decompress/separate work from home life.

I started this blog during the transition from the agency to unemployment. I had received in the mail my first digital SLR camera on the same day I was bought-out, so my first post is a collection of photos I took trying out the features of the camera on my first day of unemployment. I stated at the beginning that I wasn’t sure what this would be, or where I would be going. Several of my Artists and Managers reached out to me to offer me positions and to ask my advice, and I had to tell them why I couldn’t. The truth was, I didn’t want to be in that world anymore. If I could tell you that last story, and you knew my family background, you’d understand. (Hint.)

After months of looking around for my third (5th?) career, I had an interview at Harvard Medical School that I had heard about from a friend (a former actor from the theatre company, actually). I had never considered academia – all of the positions I had been applying for were in the Arts, Event Planning and Customer Service. This job wasn’t a good fit for either of us, and both the interviewer and I knew it, but my husband happened to mention it to his colleague that I was there that day. His colleague’s wife worked in HR at MIT at the time, and asked why I hadn’t reached out to her. The truth is, I hadn’t thought of it. I thought I wanted non-profit in the arts, not in academia. While she had nothing for me, she suggested where I should look on the MIT campus. I landed at a very small office where…you guessed it… there were two strong women, slightly at-odds and not listening to each other, running the show. I met with the operations manager first, who grilled me on what I did and didn’t know. She brought me in to meet with the Executive Director, who loudly proclaimed “I don’t know why I’m meeting with this guy!” from her office (within earshot) only moments before sitting down to interview me. I was not hopeful, but after a month of silence, they offered me the job (after their first choices didn’t work out, I later found out). The HR manager, in my offer call, asked if I had any concerns. I told her that I was concerned that I’d be the stupidest one in the room. She assured me that the entire Institute was run by former theatre majors keeping the smart people running, and that I was desperately needed. I’ve been at this job for 6.5 years now, the longest of any of my colleagues besides my boss. She has since drastically changed her view of me from that first meeting to constantly proclaiming: “what would I do without you?!” While I did not have domain expertise (the US Healthcare System and all its flaws), I have had to tap into and hone nearly all of my previously learned skills of customer service, time management, working as a team, navigating bureaucracy, patience, resilience copyediting, contract language, copyright, travel, working with difficult people, customer service, conflict resolution, conflict mitigation, interpersonal relationships via phone, email, and in person, trade conference presentation, marketing, sales, website and software design. To that, I used my theatrical production skills for event planning, event material production, front-of-house management, A/V needs, and run-of-show planning for our highly complex multi-dimensional workshops. I also have become proficient in PowerPoint, as it is a tool used daily in our work, The domain content is slowly seeping in, but only enough to keep me from not being completely lost in conversations. I know the history, the players, and where all the bodies (files) are buried, so I’ve also become a repository of the things that may have fallen through the cracks.

Things are constantly changing in this job. I don’t know which previous experience gave me the ability to nimbly switch from one topic to another, or to completely change course on a plan at the drop of a hat, but it’s there, because that is the nature of the position I’m in now. Was it babysitting toddlers? Was it the dozen-or-so positions I filled every day at the dinner theatre? Maybe it’s inherent in the non-linear path of my work life?

I know this is a rambling post, but the prompt intrigued me, especially when I looked back at the strange, seemingly disconnected path that lead me to where I am now. I hope you will take a moment to look back (or forward!) at your career path and see where your experiences can be knit together to make you the ideal candidate for any job you want, regardless of how the requirements of the position are worded. Translate your experience into skills needed for that job, especially if it’s not obvious from what they see in your CV.

So… what jobs have you held?

Perspective, Connection, Acceptance

Don’t overlook or devalue the highlights of life,
Blind from the deep shadows of the darker times.
Varying in magnitude, or existing in perfect balance,
Cherish each crest and dip simply for being
And celebrate your ability to experience it
.

A stream-of-consciousness list of corresponding emotional points over the last 10 days (May 14-23, 2023):

Mother’s Day, this year, happened to coincide with the 4th anniversary of my Mother’s passing. We were coming home from a weekend away with friends and I chose to quietly honor her memory by myself and not remind others about it. I avoided social media and threw myself into sewing and cleaning once we got home.

After a routine colonoscopy discovered an aggressive form of colon cancer attacking my brother, he went in for surgery to have it removed one year ago today (May 23). The procedure took longer than anticipated, but, by all accounts, was successful and the surgeons were confident they removed all of the cancer. We were all hopeful and thankful. A few hours later, I received a phone call to tell me that he had not woken up from recovery and was non-responsive. He had suffered a massive stroke, but since he was in recovery from the surgery, they were not sure how long his brain had been without oxygen. When they revived him, the cancer care was put to the side while they focused on recovery from the stroke. Months and months of physical, speech and occupational therapy have both shown results and taken their toll, emotionally and financially. Last week, (the Wednesday after Mother’s Day) his PET scan showed that the cancer has metastasized to the lungs, stomach and pelvis. Stage 4. Terminal.
We were all devastated. Within minutes, I had flights and a hotel in my cart and had talked to my boss, but his wife said that they would come up here to see as many people as possible, rather than having people come there. Whichever path he chooses going forward, I will respect it and celebrate his life while he is here to celebrate with.

Last Friday, I went to celebrate a friend’s birthday at Kowloon. We share a love of rum and mid-century pseudo-Polynesian Tiki kitsch, so I was excited to go, especially since the owners had recently announced they were looking to sell the iconic property to a developer and downsize the business to take-out only. It was a fun and wonderful evening, even when we acknowledged it was the anniversary of a friend’s passing 2 years earlier. She had passed very suddenly and unexpectedly, leaving her spouse and small child.

Saturday, I took part in a cabaret fundraiser for the local YMCA. We were raising money to assist children in attending their after school arts programs. It was a fun, “let’s put on a show” – Judy Garland & Andy Rooney kind of affair – a great distraction, and it was wonderful to be on stage again after so long. Our friend’s child takes part in this arts programming, and while it was wonderful to see his filmmaking, and to witness what an amazing, compassionate young man he is becoming, it made me sad to think of his mother not being there, and how he and his surviving parent must feel that emptiness in these situations so keenly.

Sunday, I volunteered for the first ever Salem Cat Scavenger Hunt. I walked around town (14,000+ steps!) assisting teams with hints when they were stuck on clues, and acted as a “bonus” item for anyone that took a picture with me in my cat shirt. Again, it was another welcome distraction from the emotional rollercoaster of the preceding days – this time without a sad undertone. Talking to visitors and hearing their perspectives and thoughts is what brings me back to doing this kind of volunteer work, and cat people (we have 2 now) are a . . . unique, passionate, and quirky group. It was a busy and tiring weekend!

Yesterday (Monday), my husband called me in the middle of the day – a rare occurrence, since he is a teacher and should have been in class. He, very calmly, said to me:

We just had an announcement that there is an active shooter on campus. We were told to ‘get down or get out.’ You never know how these things will go, so I was calling to tell you I love you. The students fled and I am gathering my stuff to leave.

When he hung up, my heart dropped into my stomach and I began to shake. I pulled his contact up on my screen and refreshed the location feature constantly. After 5 minutes of watching his locator not move from his office, I was frantic. He texted me to say that he couldn’t leave. He had tried to go down the stairs, but heard someone yell “Get down on the ground!” below, so he quietly walked back to his office, locked the door, and turned off the lights. For over an hour, neither of us knew what was going on. He was alone and isolated in a dark room with the potential of harm or death at any moment, his only connection to the outside world through text. I was alone in our condo trying to find news reports, waiting for texts from him, and updating the half dozen individual and group chats of friends that had heard about it. In the end, it was a hoax call (swatting) that escalated when a local officer’s gun went off in one of the school bathrooms accidentally. Suddenly, a few local policemen were joined by other town police, a SWAT team, and the State police. He was stuck in the dark office for over an hour while they swept every building, gathered everyone up and escorted them to a central location. We are both home today. He because classes were suspended to make time for counseling and planning; me because I want to be here when he needs to be hugged or needs to talk about it.

He tells the story from his perspective eloquently and in the same calm voice he spoke to me in.

Perspective:
I am (relatively) healthy. My husband is alive and by my side. I am lucky.

Connection:
We have friends and family that care about us and that we care about. Shared experiences and interests can connect us, even if we are strangers.

Acceptance:
Death is inevitable. Safety is never guaranteed. Life/plans/priorities can change in an instant. It can be caused by a medical test, a phone call, a decision made, or through the actions of others.

Choose Your Own Adventure

In life, we are faced with many choices.  Some of them are easy to make, and some seem utterly impossible.  When it comes to the choice of Life or Death, how do you choose?

ANCIENT HISTORY TO MODERN DAY
Euthanasia (from Greek: εὐθανασία; “good death”) may have been standard practice long before the Greeks gave a name to it, or Socrates sipped his hemlock, and it’s clear that it was not unique to that region.  The Japanese practice of Ubasute (abandoning the elderly or infirm on a mountain to die), Serbian Lapot, the Norse/Germanic Attestupa, and on and on…

In God on Trial, Rane Willerslev describes the practices of the Chukchi People of the Russian Arctic:

Among the Chukchi, human sacrifice is, as a matter of ethnographic fact, a customary practice. In the early ethnographies, it goes under the name of “voluntary death,” and it involves the killing of a close family member—often ill and aged—who expresses a wish to die (Borogas, 1904).

Willerslev argues that this Chukchi practice is really just human sacrifice, equating it with the story of Abraham’s binding of Isaac in the Hebrew Scriptures. His basis for this argument is that they are both based on faith (and/or trickery), and therefore a sacrifice, not a mercy killing.

The history of these ancient practices in our subconscious, along with our modern, societal psychological hangups around aging, have given rise to a plethora of dystopian fantasies revolving around this premise: Logan’s Run, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Stargate AtlantisBoomsday, to name just a few.

For “assisted suicide” (voluntary active euthanasia) and its debate, one needs only search the internet for the controversial Dr. Kervorkian.

The argument for or against legalized euthanasia could (and does) fill several million articles and blog posts, and the ethics of it leads to extremely personal and volatile discussion, but that’s not what I’m here to talk about.  I am writing about voluntary passive euthanasia, as it has popped-up a lot in my life in this last year.

VOLUNTARY DEATH
 Life’s like a movie: write your own ending…

SUFFERING:
My husband’s grandmother was either 103 or 106 when she died (her birth records were lost in a fire, and being a lady, she never told her true age).  She survived 2 world Wars, 2 husbands, and witnessed the dawn of 2 centuries.  Towards the end, she was very frail, and depended on others to take care of her.  Her sight and hearing were failing, and it was extremely hard for her to get around.  Many times, she was heard  lamenting “Why won’t God take me?”

CHOOSING:
A friend of mine just lost her father. He was 98 years old. A war hero, a beloved doctor in his community, and a widower for over 30 years, his last few months were filled with friends dying, subsequent bouts of depression, and infections that caused balance issues.  One fall resulted in a broken neck that, at his age, would never heal. It required wearing an uncomfortable neck brace 24 hours a day, taking away his comfort and his ability to drive or to take care of himself.  When they found a possible melanoma on his back, he decided not to get it biopsied. “If it’s cancer, so what?” he said. “I’m 98 years old. Why fight it?”  His doctor and his daughter (a doctor herself) agreed.  When an infection caused him to be bedridden, he made the conscious decision to stop fighting altogether. He stopped eating and was given basic palliative end-of-life care so he could be comfortable. He passed away on his own terms, and in his own time, surrounded by his family.

A NEW TREND?:
Currently, a close family member and a friend’s mother (both in their 80s) are going through eerily similar circumstances. Both have different forms of cancer that have metastasized and entered their lymph nodes.  In both cases, radical radiation or chemotherapy might help, but the prognosis is not clear, and the treatments would come at a high cost (both physically and financially).  Both have decided not to undergo these treatments.  They both know the consequences, but have weighed their options and decided on quality of life over quantity of life.  Understandably, their families are devastated, but having witnessed countless others suffer during treatment only to succumb to the disease, they are (reluctantly) accepting of this decision.    

I wonder if I would make the same decision, or if I could allow someone close to me to make that decision without a fight.

PERSONAL CHOICE:
My parents both died of complications from Alzheimer’s Disease.  Odds are, if I live long enough, that I will face that same dreadful curse.  Should that time come, I honestly don’t know what I would choose.  Practicality says “Think of the pain (to myself) and the burden of care (to my family, to our finances) that I could avoid.” Human Nature reminds me to be scared of Death, and Hope wants to hold out for a cure that could come down-the-line.  For me, there is the added burden that Alzheimer’s is a slow and drawn-out demise.  So I would be faced with the added question of “When would be the right time to go?”  I think that would be more important than the how.

“To die will be an awfully big adventure.”
― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

MISC. RELATED LINKS:
Cost of Treatment in Medical Decision Making?
The High Cost of Dying
Cost Analysis of Medical Assistance in Dying (plus this article)
The High Cost of Cancer Treatment – AARP
When Fighting Cancer isn’t Worth It
Alzheimer’s Death – Being Patient
Gene Wilder’s Wife on Caring for Someone with Alzheimer’s
Robin Williams – “The Hardest Role of His Life”
6 Questions to Ask Before Writing a Living Will


I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.  Do you have any experience with a loved one choosing death over suffering?  Do you judge those that consider it (voluntary euthanasia)?  Would you, yourself, consider this choice if the situation arose?  Could you choose for someone that couldn’t choose for themselves (involuntary euthanasia)?  Do you have a DNR (do not resuscitate) order or a Living Will?

 

EDIT: I promise, the next post will be something happy and uplifting.
I put that Muppet Movie video in there to lighten the mood a little bit…

Please don’t…

… finish my sentences.  I am 100% sure you do not know what I’m going to say.  It makes you look pushy, or bored with the conversation, or just like an asshole.  I understand that people do this to impress upon you that they have a superior intellect and that they are not only following-along with what you are saying, they already know everything about it.

… yell at me when I’m trying to help you.  If you’ve asked for my assistance and I am giving it to you, don’t take your frustrations out on me when I can’t understand what you are asking for.  I understand you are frustrated and angry with yourself and your situation, but the person helping you should never have to deal with your misdirected anger.

… wait in front of the train door when people are trying to get off.  You will get on, but only if you let us make room for you by exiting the car.

I don’t want to be negative, but there are certain behaviors that make me question how people have gotten this far in their lives without being told that these behaviors are unacceptable or rude.  I have already railed against self-important, blameless people, but it seems to be becoming the norm to be someone who is so outwardly self-centered, yet (ironically?) the exact opposite of self-aware.  Perhaps I am blessed to have had the time, resources, and opportunities to examine my own life choices – my temperament, my faults – maybe most people do not have that luxury?

Know thyself not Know thy selfie.

Is it because no one has challenged them up to this point?  Is that why they continue (or even start to develop) these behaviors?  Why is it tolerated in today’s society?  Are we so beaten-down by the daily news, or numb from being inundated with social feeds of people excelling (or, with schadenfreude: failing) in their lives?

i’d love to hear your thoughts.

Value/Time Management

How much is your time worth? 
That’s the question asked in articles on value of time and it can even be calculated with the Worth Calculator.

What is this “Value/Time” in the title?

It seemed the easiest way to get across multiple meanings:

  • The equation of Value ÷ Time (e.g. 1 of 3 = 1/3, therefore Value of Time)
  • Intrinsically connecting both Value Management and Time Management

After writing about working with my boss on PowerPoint presentations in my last post,  I started noticing instances where I was, consciously or unconsciously, making decisions and adjustments based on value of time.

It is an indisputable fact that her time is more valuable than mine.  It is plainly written on our pay stubs and in our titles.  I can, quite literally, show you a figure (private) that represents my hourly worth while at work.  You can also estimate the difference in our worth by the titles (public) of our positions.  I have no illusion that everyone’s time is of equal worth while at work.  We are called “Support Staff” for a reason. Of course, this works both ways: “Above my pay grade” is a useful phrase.

After many years of being short-staffed, and with an impatience to get things finished and move on to the next thing, she will often try to do everything.  In the beginning, it was only out of being frustrated with something for an extended period that she would hand something off.  It’s taken a long time to get her to delegate to the growing staff, myself included.  We also had to be proactive and take things off of her plate.

With the growing staff, I find myself assisting and managing everyone (don’t think I don’t see the similarities with above).  If I have something at-hand, or can easily finish a part of a project, I will do so to free-up their time.  It’s frustrating for me to see someone try to reinvent something that already exists, or not ask for help.

“Don’t go searching for that, Eric knows where it is and can send it to you.”

Part of this aversion to asking for assistance is likely fear that one will seem helpless or incapable.  Today, an office mate (of higher value rate) was searching for a letterhead template (she was in the file where it was, but didn’t know which one to use because there were several versions).  She may have been looking for this for several minutes (at a rate of 2.5x the cost per minute vs. me looking for it) before saying anything. A 5 minute conversation that included her, my boss, and myself (exponentially more expensive minutes now) ensued with her not explaining what the letterhead was for (just ‘important’) and ended with her saying “I just won’t work on this then, since Eric is working on something else right now.”  Since this would cost even more money (work not being done), I immediately walked back to my desk and emailed her 2 versions.

10 minutes talking without communicating = $~1650.00 cumulative value/time wasted.

Do you know what I could do with $1650?  Besides the money, do you know what all three of us could have gotten done in the 10 (30 combined) minutes wasted?  This is about more than efficiency, though that plays a huge role.

What about Value/Time outside of work?

It’s my personal opinion that Vacation time (no matter what you do with it), is worth more than any other time.  Then, in a descending scale: Weekends, Holidays, work hours, evening waking hours, and finally sleeping hours.  Unlike the work hours, though, I feel everyone has the same value for time outside of work.

However, the argument could be made that Work and Vacation hours are equal, since they are often part of the whole compensation package, but that’s not worth my time to get into…

What are your thoughts on Value/Time Management?  I’d love to hear your comments.

 

 

Pet Peeves

I’m curious.  What are your pet peeves?

Here are some of mine off the top of my head:

  • When people say “on accident” instead of “by accident.”
  • Inconsiderate/entitled/rude people (especially in public)
  • “Expresso”
  • “Excetera”
  • Making everything that is said? Sound like a question? With weird pauses?
  • Slow walkers
  • People that stand in the doorway when the subway door opens
  • Open mouth chewing
  • #redundant #excessive #hashtags
  • Nail clipping in public, or even around just one other person
  • People that walk while staring down at their phones –  not looking where they are going
  • People blatantly looking at their phones while driving, or sitting in traffic
  • Misspelled/poor grammar signs
  • People that don’t pick up after their dogs
  • Parents that don’t keep their kids in check when they are misbehaving
  • Kids at restaurants on iPads
  • Kids anywhere on iPads
  • Toddlers playing with smartphones
  • People who try to finish your sentences or interrupt you by talking over you
  • People who don’t say thank you or acknowledge that you’ve held the door for them
  • Pressing the elevator or crosswalk button multiple times as if that will make it come sooner
  • Asshole parkers
  • Strollers in WDW… especially when the kids are too big for them, or when they are filled with bags, not children

Short version:
Rude or ignorant people.

Tell me yours below!

Let’s do the time hop again…

 

I know, I know: It’s Time WARP, but I didn’t want to give you false hopes that this would be a Rocky Horror-themed blog post.

It looks like my last post was November 2016.  This is exactly 19 months later.  Yikes!  Let’s pretend like there was a dramatic time hop from then to now.

I’m still loving my job and the people I work with.   I admit that sometimes certain behaviors get on my nerves, but it doesn’t bother me enough to be miserable or to come home and complain to my husband.  In the past, if someone was annoying, disrespectful, or bitchy to me, my frustration would grow and become its own entity,  I remember coming home every night to tell my husband yet another story of how I had been mistreated by X or Y.  He would attentively listen, agreeing that X was a total bitch and that what she had done was borderline abusive, that Y was treating me unfairly, etc.    Now, I come home and tell him funny stories about the quirky set of characters I’m surrounded by.

As I said, it’s not always wonderful in my current situation, but the less-than-fun bits don’t get me down anymore.  I owe this turnaround, in part, to a new attitude.

In my last job, I would keep a log of the more egregious abuses from X in a file called ‘Old Dog’ (as in, the kind you can’t teach new tricks to…and the double meaning of bitch).  It was a form of therapy to get it all out and it served as a record that I thought I may need later.  That, combined with telling everyone that would listen about it, or swapping war stories with other coworkers, caused the negativity to swell and cycle and become something that couldn’t be escaped.

Maybe it’s age? Maybe it’s a heightened empathy?  Maybe it’s circumstantial after the less-than-stellar year we have had so far (see below)?  Now, I find myself brushing-off the nonsense.  When one coworker bitches about another (or another, or another…), I listen, but I don’t feed it or let it ruin my experience.  When a coworker treats me like a child or says something offensive, I know that it is her own insecurities that cause her to act that way, so I don’t give it the weight that I would have in the past.  Someone will say: “How can you stand working with Z? She is so _____!”  I simply say “I’ve worked with many Z’s in my life. I know how they operate and how to deal with them.”  You truly can’t teach an old dog new tricks, so stop trying.  They upset you with unkind words or looks?   They inconvenienced you for 15 minutes?  Let it go.  It doesn’t matter.

In the grand scheme of things:  IT.  DOESN’T.  MATTER.

This is definitely personal growth, and I’m happy to be able to recognize and acknowledge that.

I’m not saying that one should not defend oneself, or to let people walk all over you.  I am saying that, in this day and age, in this culture of self martyrdom and publicizing your victimization to get attention (we all have a friend or two on social media that consistently posts an attention-seeking/pity-me/I’ve been wronged update), it is easy to fall into the trap of letting our small inconveniences turn into monsters that eat away at our lives.

On those circumstances I alluded to above:

Donald Trump is still President, and every day some new dystopian degradation is announced.  It’s wearing me down to the point where I don’t read or listen to the news anymore.  The LGBTQ rights that my own family members (Trump supporters) told me not to worry about, because “they can’t take that away from you” that are being taken away, and the way innocent children are treated like animals is just too much to deal with.

2018 started for us with one of the hardest decisions we have ever had to make.  We put our dog of 13 years, our companion, our Little Love, to sleep.  He was suffering from dementia, bladder issues, a heart murmur, glaucoma, and a myriad of small problems.  He had his good days when he acted like a puppy, not a senior dog, and he had many terrible nights.  We scheduled and postponed the appointment twice, but finally we knew that it was best for all of us to end his suffering before it became unbearable.  Our hearts were torn into pieces, and though it is easier today, we still feel an ache and a hole in our lives.

Shortly after that, my mother-in-law went into the hospital for some major surgeries.  My husband’s family lives 1100 miles away, so it was stressful for us to be getting updates, but not be able to be there.  My husband flew down there to be with his Mom before and after her surgeries.  This saga is not over, as she is currently in the hospital right now undergoing more procedures.  Without a doubt, her conditions are made worse by the next bit:

While that was going on, an estranged family member emerged.  She had been unconscious in a hospital for almost a week before we were told.  She had been dropped-off by her addict friends with MRSA in her spine, a second blood infection, and fluid in her lungs.  She required and received open-heart surgery, lung draining, and aggressive multiple antibiotic treatments.  Again, my husband flew down to be there.  She continues to check herself out and then back into the hospitals with worsening ailments, but it is only a matter of time before she is finally free of her pain. They will not operate on her again.

We lost a dear family friend who lived life to the fullest. Cancer ate through him in 3 weeks.

While my husband was out of state dealing with his ailing family, I drove down to see my mother, who is living in a memory care assisted living facility.  She had to be moved to a higher level of care (locked/coded floors and elevators to stop wandering, with more nurses).  I took her out for the day: blood drawn, lunch, shopping, mall walking, driving around – while my brothers moved everything from one floor to the next.  The Alzheimer’s made it seem to her that nothing had changed.  She walked into the new room -a mirror image of the old one – as if it were the same.  It was the plan, but it was heartbreaking.

Another family member gave us devastating news about his health, then became unemployed and unable to pay for his treatment.

My husband had a few episodes of ‘global amnesia’ that scared us both.  Multiple doctors and scans say that nothing is wrong, and that it must have been stress-induced (see above).

I developed kidney pain that specialists conclude I have to live with until it goes away in months or a year. Fun!

With medical bills, flights to visit sick family, and a vacation the we desperately needed, we are pretty maxed-out on credit cards.  We are working to fix that, but this was one more stress we didn’t count on.

So…although now this looks like the ‘poor me’ posts I talked about earlier, it’s really just a sample of what has built the foundation and watermark for how we deal with small inconveniences in our day-to-day lives…

In the grand scheme of things: it doesn’t matter.