The majority of yesterday was spent on the phone being cautiously diplomatic. I managed to convince one group of lazy, misdirected, stubborn people to accept free assistance from another group of highly-motivated, eager to assist people in order help make our company more profitable and our customers happier. It’s funny how often people forget that, in the end, we all share the same goal.
It seems that my job becomes more and more diplomatic with each passing day. While I don’t mind the work and am, admittedly, quite good at it, it leaves me feeling quite unaccomplished most days. The problem is that the task I am set to accomplish has been determined by those above me and the whether or not that task will lead toward the desired result is not a reflection on how well I did my job. This means that, while I am confident that my planning, procedures, and diplomacy will accomplish what I am intended to accomplish, I am not always confident that this accomplishment will have a positive impact on our company. So, often, my only metric of success is whether I manage to get people to agree with one another and do what I’ve asked them to do. Such success does not really feel like an accomplishment.
After getting off work, I rushed over to CostCo to pick up a print (“this one”:http://djamesphoto.com/photos/amanda-20060827/20060827_0086-0001-web.JPG) for a “friend”:http://revjim.net/2006/09/07/amanda-with-child/ and well as 12 prints for myself. Before this point, I’d been doing pretty good at maintaining a positive attitude despite the heavy work load, touchy issues to resolve, and massive amounts of frustration at people unable to provide what they’ve promised. But what happened next was just too much.
The prints didn’t quite come out as planned. The one print was cropped needlessly on the top and sides by several inches. The other 12 prints were the wrong color, too high in contrast, and had a thin white border on the top and the right of each image. This was the result of some unknown combination of their poor user interface, their confusing ordering process, my distracted nature when placing the order, my inability to press the correct buttons on the web forms, and the printing skills of the photo lab technician there. They offered to reprint the images on the spot, but I wasn’t willing to wait thereby forcing myself deeper into rush hour traffic and increasing my already lengthy commute nearly 2-fold. I also didn’t know how long I could keep from knocking things off of the shelves as I wandered around CostCo waiting, so I opted to just go home.
The problem with taking away all of a man’s vices is that he ends up with no place to go. At this point in my life, by different people at different times, it’s been brought to my attention that cigarettes, promiscuity, illegal drugs, and bouts of anger are all inappropriate manners of dealing with frustration. So, by my count, that leaves alcohol and food. So, do you want me fat or drunk? Yesterday I opted for fat which, while slightly more socially acceptable, left me quite unfulfilled and mostly angry with myself.
I had a whole pile of things I had intended to do between the moment I got home and 8pm when Jess would get home from work and we would leave to meet “Liz”:http://bluestarliz.livejournal.com/ for coffee. I did exactly one quarter of _one of them_ and I spent the rest time doing very little, unable to overcome several forms of personal frustration as well as a building anger toward myself. Of course, later that evening I got angry at myself again when I realized that I hadn’t accomplished anything I’d set out to do.
I did, however, try very hard to keep from expressing my anger toward Jess because I know that doing so not only accomplishes nothing but also leads to her being upset and silently angry at me in return. Additionally it leads to me being more angry at myself later when I realize that I snapped at her. I don’t think I did very well, but I should get something for trying.
After coffee, I wound down in front of the computer for a bit and then met Jess, already mostly asleep, in bed.