Hello Friends! With the world so full of ‘jackassery” , it’s a good thing someone came up with that word, or I would have had to coin it myself!
I am mulling over the meaning of words tonight. I love words. I love the plenitude of them, the vast abundance of words we have in English, how so many words can be subtle as a breeze and as violent as a car crash. I am far to wordy when I write, which is why I keep these things to about 800 words. (Chris used to bust on me all the time about that “Sweetie, you’ll never use one word when ten will do.” Guilty.)
This week for me has been full to the brim with ‘jackassery’-mainly defined as stupid people behaving idiotically around me.
I have extremely limited patience with clients of mine who display thoughtless cruelty to their children or the people who care for them.
For example, a client who berated a teacher (in public) for a verbal misunderstanding between them. No one was hurt, simple words were misunderstood. Another client who humiliated my extremely valuable and talented assistant for misunderstanding our admissions paperwork. Again, no one was hurt, in fact it was the client who misunderstood, but needed to save face by verbally abusing my assistant.
Chris had the most remarkable verbal ability. I was thinking about this after I dealt with these situations. The issues involved were so petty, and the words exchanged were so unpleasant and consequential, I am certain he would have blown a gasket and sent these two clients packing that hour.
Being a woman, and the sole breadwinner in my house now, I am forced to take a different perspective. I would like to keep my business as prosperous as possible. I have 3 children about to go to college, after all.
I spent the week putting out these and other verbal fires, and am spent. It just sucks the life right out of me. Generally, after weeks like this one, I would plan and look forward to a little body-busting physical activity. Copper is still open, we still have passes, or at stint at spinning class, or, even better, and evening spent mucking around tunnel flying with the kids and the set of handsome dudes down there who teach me things.
It is not to be, however. I am at “Post-Op, Week Seven”, which is an interesting set of words by itself. Essentially, it means my physical therapists are pleased with my progress after my shoulder surgery. I come faithfully to appointments, and perform what little I am allowed to do, for fear of jarring loose the tightening ‘capsule’ around the repaired ligaments. No skiing, no spinning, no running,no lifting, and certainly, God forbid, no tunnel flying.
I go home, and every single day spend at least thirty boring, stultifying, mind-numbing minutes on the recumbent bike. It is slowly driving me insane.
I have a sunny friend who encourages me to reframe these things and try and find the positive. We skype a lot, so I can’t hit her, and am forced to listen to what she has to say.
Weary and drained as I am, there is some truth there. Here is what I have found.
Dealing with jackasses actually is good for me. Chris had a gift with those kinds of people, I do not. I need to develop it. (He could never confront anyone who needed it, and I never hesitated. Funny how people can complement each other)
It is good to show overt, verbal support to my staff. I work with really super people, and it’s good to tell them that more often. This does remind me to do so even when there isn’t a crisis.
The Chippendales at the tunnel are very much an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ kind of bunch. It bugs the daylights out of me that not one of those men has thought to ask after me, in the thick of it, like now. Chickens.
Well, what of it? Some people are like that. It’s good practice to let it go, and know that when I get back, they’ll be just as welcoming as a roomful of spaniels.
I actually am getting stronger, and look pretty good. After the recumbent torture device, I am regaining some lost flexibility. I can do a lot of dance warmups without involving my shoulder.
There is serious temptation to sit on the couch and work my way through the newest Ben and Jerry’s inventory. But I don’t, because I have a goal. My doctor said when all is done, my shoulder will be better than it was before. 11 more weeks of this is too draining to think about. But tomorrow and the next day isn’t. I call up my girlfriends for support, and write to you people, and get through the next day.
Lastly, quit whining. I can do all this stuff, and am privileged to know a lot of really super people who don’t feel well enough to do these kind of things, or who spend most of their time in a chair with wheels.
To paraphrase Judith Viorst, “Some weeks are like that, even in Australia.”
Much love and thanks for listening,