You know those wave machines on cruise ships and amusement parks? The ones that let you surf in a swimming pool?
No? Truthfully, me neither. I’m neither a cruise ship nor amusement park type of person. For the same reason: Nausea.
(Our local amusement park went through a major renovation about thirty years ago. And when my sister brought her kids for the grand re-opening, she reminisced: “See that ride? Your Aunt Nancy threw up on that ride. And see that ride? Your Aunt Nancy threw up on that ride too.”)
But back to wave machines.
I need one.
I need to make some waves.
My husband is mad at me right now. He’s mad at me because I don’t get mad.
Oh, I get mad enough at HIM. He wants me to be mad at other people. And at bad situations.
And I don’t know how.
I was raised by an extremely non-boat-rocking lady. Mom and Dad had a very equal marriage – two really smart people making smart decisions together.
But for my Mom, that was as far as it went. She felt that in all other situations, you should just be nice. Accommodating, accepting, agreeable. She said we’d be happier in the long run if we *Don’t *Make* Waves*.
And I don’t.
Can’t park here? Okay.
An hour wait for dinner? Okay.
Additional shipping charge? Okay.
Bad haircut? Okay. (Well, not okay really. I will go home and cry. But Okay… it will grow.)\
As I get older, I find that there are many things that are actually easy to let go. I’m not much bothered by lousy service in a restaurant or clothes that shrink in the dryer. Or the price of gas. Yeah, I remember, gas used to cost 33 cents a gallon. But I also made $59 a week. Are the oil companies gouging us? Certainly. Am I going to go on a rant? Nah.
But there’s other stuff that is harder to ignore. And maybe I shouldn’t. Not much gets changed if you don’t show some righteous indignation.
There’s lots of shit going on in the world that I want to scream about. And sometimes do. I am a hippie from the sixties after all – ‘Peace and Love’ accompanied by a big dose of ‘Let’s March in the Streets’. But I decided two years ago that this blog would not be political, so I will stick to what I need to get mad at in my personal life.
I’m a bit of a doormat – a big one according to my husband – at work. Since my first job (making sandwiches for vending machines) – I have never said “no.” Anything and everything. Lots of weekends, evenings, with any and all tasks. I ordered supplies as well as made sandwiches; I opened the mail as well as solved Medicare issues; I inventoried equipment as well as produced financial statements; I prepared slides for the CEO’s speeches as well as calculated return on investments.
My current job is no different. Luckily, I am not asked for much overtime anymore. I work some weekends but compared to previous jobs, I’m a part-timer. But I still never say no. And holy cow, it doesn’t take long for everyone to know that. I may have the title of Controller, but people come to me when they need mailing labels, or the copier is broken, or the bathroom sink is stopped up. My favorite request was from a lady in shipping who came into my office and handed me her electric bill. “Can you mail this for me?” she asked. Okay.
But I truly believe that you’re not a doormat if you really don’t mind.
There’s a nagging part of me that is getting bugged. And there are some tasks not in my job description that are absolutely beginning to get under my skin. And one especially is escalating.
So here’s my dilemma:
I have about a year to my retirement.
Part of me wants to just get through the next year. Continue to say “Okay” – keep my head down, and let the year go by. No Trauma. No Confrontations. I’ve worked that way for more than forty years. And I’m still here. So it’s a good strategy.
But another part of me though wants to say, “Hell NO!” I want my last year to be one of respect. I’m the Controller, not a servant.
So what do I do? Do I go out like a lamb or a lion?
Me, trying out (not too successfully) a power pose.