Wednesday was my first day in the office after two days of jury duty (more on that in another post). I had a lot of work to do, many emails to catch up on. And yet, after everyone else had gone home, LTS chose this time to sit down and start taking to me about Life at The Agency. What I like, what I don't like. She asked a lot of questions but didn't do much listening (as we will see later). I told her how claustrophobic our seating is in The Clown Car … how tense the atmosphere among the four of us becomes, and why … how hard I try to keep things copacetic … how tired I am when I get home each night, that I'm too exhausted to talk to anyone … Then she took over and told me about her travails with her boss and Christine the Mole. I know she's lonely and doesn't have a lot of friends, and I do appreciate how supportive she is of me professionally, so I listened. For hours. Until well after 8:00. I'd say I resented the time I put in with her, but emotionally I was too empty to screw up that much feeling.
So what does Long Tall Sally do on Thursday? She brings her computer in to our little Clown Car, parks herself and starts asking one of our coworkers incredibly provocative questions. Questions she knew the answers to, because he's an outspoken RWNJ. About religion (dislikes this new Pope), global warming (doesn't accept it), homosexuality (the choice of the depraved), and rape (all about sex, despite what "they" want you to believe about rage and power). It was so loud, went on so long, and was so offensive that one of our teammates from across the aisle sent me this gif.
I was upset, highly upset. So were two of the coworkers who also share The Clown Car. I told LTS it was unwise and upsetting.
"Why?" she asked. "He's got free speech."
I was beyond exasperated. "I'm not talking about imprisoning him! I'm talking about my right to do my work without listening to his bile!" I told her how I was going to have to spend all evening trying to figure out how to forgive him. After all, this is a man I can reach out and touch for 40 hours/week. I already have to overlook the picture of Obama as a rodeo clown and the cartoon mocking Mohammed he tacked on his bulletin board, in my sight line all day/every day. Now this.
When I tried to explain this to LTS, she said, "So I suck. That's it, right?"
"Why are you determined to make this about you and me?" I asked. And then I went home.
On Friday, the office closes at 1:00. I didn't get out until 3:30. Why? Guess. Go ahead. Guess. She went on, and on, and on ... just wanting to make sure she and I were still OK.
And I had work to do!
I'm tired. Tired. Tired.
Tired of all of it.
Of the Big Project. Of last summer's Big Project, which has now sprung back to life and is now on my plate. Of my coworkers. Of my friends. (I should do a post about them, too, but I'm too tired and it makes me too sad.)
I won't be able to take any real time off until September. I have a ton of vacation time, but I haven't been able to take it.
