Haven't got time for the stress

I like most things about my job at the card shop. My boss Cece is one of the warmest people I've ever met. The overwhelming majority of our customers are pleasant. The cards and wrapping paper are pretty and the candles smell good. I can stop for pizza or fried chicken on my way home.

But there's Jen. She's the assistant manager I work with most often. She's on the verge of 50 and a former ad agency exec who she thrives on adrenaline. Since there is little drama in our card shop, she creates it. After emerging from 43 years in a high-stress industry, I don't respond to this anymore. I felt my reaction to her isn't what she expects and I suspect she's disappointed ... and I can't quite bring myself to change.

Here's me and Jen in a nutshell: Last week, when we were moving the Christmas/Hanukkah products to the back of the store -- Jen behaved as though we were emergency workers removing tree limbs after a tornado -- we had space on our gift table. Jen told me that there are "like a half dozen Legos for adults" in storage and told me to bring them out because "now they'll sell."

I went to storage and found a shelf full of Legos that enable adults to build an elaborate bouquet of roses or an orchid for $50. That's a hefty price point for an impulse purchase, but no one asked my opinion (and I really like working where no one depends on me to make decisions). There were close to 20 boxes, but she asked for "like a half dozen," so I brought six out and stacked them on the gift table.

When Jen went to storage, she saw that there were still Legos for adults in the back and, with much harrumphing and sighing, she brought the others out and stacked them on top of the six I originally brought out.

Um ... she said "like a half dozen," which is six. She could have told me I misunderstood her direction. But she chose to be passive-aggressive, so I ignored her. I'm too old for this shit. Besides, putting those Legos out is not a high-stakes move. If the mere six I'd displayed sold immediately, all anyone had to do was walk to the storage and bring out more. And guess how many we've sold since New Year's: That would be none.

While I am not predisposed to change and will not meet her adrenaline rush-for-adrenaline rush, I have decided that if we are going to spend four hour stretches together, I'd like us to get along. So when she dials up the self-created drama, I try to diffuse it with small talk. About her personal life. I find people like talking themselves.

Example: When she started complaining about the mess yesterday's team left on craft table, she said her 9-year-old daughter is just as messy, so I pivoted to: "Hey! Isn't your daughter a Girl Scout? When does she start selling cookies?" Jen immediately grabbed her phone and texted me a link so I could place an order.

I do this all the time now. Yes, it is manipulative. But it lightens the mood and makes my day go easier, so what the hell.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash