A prank, a conflict and a kidnapped jigsaw puzzle

So much fun at work on Thursday! I got blamed for a prank! Yay!

Most folks who know me know how much I dislike pranks. Primarily my dislike arises from having been the butt of pranks and being made to look stupid or foolish. No one likes that feeling although some people are able to handle it better than others. Not one of them is I.

So to get blamed for a prank or even just have the responsibility for rectifying it thrown on my to-do list on Thursday SUCKED. I mean, I hate conflict as it is! Conflict upsets meh.

Someone took Dirk’s (not his real name) food and hid it. That was the prank. SO funny, right? So Dirk comes to my desk and asks me where his food is. I got nothing and he’s not pleased. But I let it drop from my mind because I have stuff to do and I didn’t take his food. He needed to solve the problem himself. Then I get an email from Dirk stating that he will return the puzzle pieces when his food shows back up. I trot into the kitchen and see that all the unplaced pieces of a jigsaw puzzle several of us work on at lunch are gone.

That’s right. He’s holding half a jigsaw puzzle hostage.

It’s still not clear to me why his missing food is my problem. According to Dirk, I know how to make things happen. Why is this, I wonder? Because I’m an admin assistant? Oh, darn…I must’ve missed “Solving Everyone’s Personal Problems 101” in admin school. Not to mention, I’m not his department’s admin. Gah! To make things worse, as I’m composing a flaming rant email back to him, good ol’ Bubba (not his real name) walks into the mail area by my desk and leaves a box there. My friend, Doc (NHRN), has been drawn into the drama and goes to check what’s in the box. Big surprise…wait for it…it’s Dirk’s food. And Bubba’s now hiding in his cubicle.

What now to do with my flame email? If I tell Dirk his food has shown up, he’ll think I was in on it and made his food reappear and, dammit, I have too much pride to let that happen. I been wronged and I ain’t going to let him off that easy. So after editing my flame email down to an eighth of the content I first barfed onto the page (turning it into more of a charcoal email), I sent it, telling him, and I paraphrase: There’s a box here. I didn’t have anything to do with it. Leave me alone or I will talk with your supervisor, you obnoxious, rude jerk.

Dirk came and got his box, saying he knew I would find it as he walked by my desk, and I burst into tears and left. I had been really upset by it, mostly because I was being blamed for something I would never do. As I stood in the ladies room trying to get my emotions under control, I realized I needed to just hash it out with him. Dirk and I had been good acquaintances before this and I really didn’t want to lose that.

So I stormed back into the kitchen where Doc was trying to make Dirk understand why what he’d done had upset me. Doc gets 4 gold stars. I laid into Dirk, telling him that he was never to treat me that way again no matter how hungry he was. After hemming and hawing, he finally apologized and the situation was defused. He was truly sorry for upsetting me…didn’t mean for that to happen. I gave him a hug and blew my nose on his shirt. Okay, I only gave him a hug. But I wanted to blow my nose on his shirt.

What I learned was, as much as I prefer to avoid conflict, it is better to hash things out. I know if I hadn’t, I’d be feeling bad about this days later and our friendship would be ruined. So I’m really glad it turned out the way it did.

Doc and I spent our afternoon break turning the ransomed jigsaw pieces back over.

No, I’m not bitter. But thanks for asking.

Sea Change

I just got back from a wonderful weekend with my mom and brother. We talked about all kinds of stuff, saw “Skyfall,” and just plain hung out, enjoying being together. One of the things we talked about was my desire to change what I’m doing with my life. As a writer and actress, I really want to pursue the artistic side of me. The problem is, a full time administrator job makes it really difficult to channel energy into the creative stuff. A full-time job takes my best time. Don’t get me wrong. I am BLESSED to have my job and I know it. I wouldn’t even be able to consider a life change like this without all the benefits my job as afforded me. I just think I’d be spending a lot of my life in a sad place if I chose to stay for the sake of financial security. I don’t want to be in a sad place any more.

So…as of July 2016, I will own the shop that is on my land. At that time, I will be able to sell my house with the shop which will give me a great nest egg and business investment money. Waiting for three-and-a-half years will also allow me to really focus on saving money, scaling down what I own, and researching locations best suited to me and my arts and my family.

Where to start? Well, there’s so much excess stuff in my house, I think I’ll start there.

Adventure on.

Confidence

Confidence is a funny thing and hard to come by. I often worry and fear that the things I do or the choices I make are inherently flawed simply because, well, they’re from me. Where that comes from, I’m not sure, but I am working on overcoming it. I was really encouraged today by Greg from the “Inappropriate Conversations” podcast who gave “Greetings from Nowhere” such a great shout out.

It’s good to remember that we are all just stumbling along in our lives, doing our best to be ourselves and live in the moment. So, every day I walk a little taller. And so should you.

Swipe

I remember sitting on the counter as a toddler while my mother made frosting for a cake. Now, I have seen pictures of this but I don’t think it was the same moment. It could be, but it wouldn’t quite make sense…well, you’ll see.

I was little and it was fun to sit on the counter. When mom stepped away to get something, I swiped a fingerful of frosting. I ate it fast because I didn’t want mom to see. I figured you weren’t supposed to do that. But, come on. It was frosting.

Later that evening, I had a rather shocking moment. Mom had frosted the round cake nice and smooth. As I looked at it on the dining room table (I could barely see it being as small as I was), I saw a fingerprint on it. Like a swipe. And I knew. I knew that was my fingerswipe. Somehow, it had survived all the mixing and frosting that mom had done and there it was for everyone to see. I was mortified.

I don’t remember much about the experience after that. I imagine I just kept quiet about the whole thing, or perhaps I told mom or dad, seeing as it was just fascinating that the darn swipe had survived. Even as a wee one, I could see the mysteries that exist in life.

Nik and frosting...a love affair begins