I’m finding out what it means to me. Sock it to me, indeed.
My ego has been taking a pummeling for the last few days. I was able to roll with the punches for a few days, but now I have grown weary of being a punching bag, and am fighting the urge to hit back. (Interesting note – right after I wrote this, Mr. Binkles decided to throw salt into my psychic wound, by inflicting a deep physical wound. The little bugger bit me hard on my thumb while I was giving him a nice petting. Ungrateful little sod.)
What was I saying? (is this thumb ever going to stop bleeding?) Oh, this week. I never did get my email back at work. In an amazing series of coincidences, my trouble ticket was mishandled or ignored by not one, not two, but three different departments. When I left today, the manager to whom it was escalated was ignoring his/her pager. On the up side, the story of my mistaken identity has made its way and entertained most of the people of the floor I’m on. I’ve encountered people I don’t even know telling the story. However, between the gruff treatment by the security guard and the lack of response to my email woes, I’m feeling like I deserve an apology by someone. I’m not holding my breath that it is coming any time soon.
Today I found out who was taking over my teacher’s classes. I don’t think it was a good decision. Sure, it hurt that I wasn’t even being considered for the post, despite being the alternate teacher there for over a year. The way this has been handled reeks of politics and petty personal vendettas. Of course, that won’t be acknowledged. A valid reason will be found. It was nice that I got an email from a friend who has been outside the drama who said it did seem rather hinky that I didn’t get the gig. Of course, I’ve been on the fence on wanting it at all. If they had assigned someone I respected, I’d be fine. I’m just having a very hard time seeing this new person meshing with those students. We’ll see. Maybe they’ll love her, or maybe she’ll bring in some new blood. Who knows. But, it’s been made very clear my services are no longer needed. A thank you would have been nice, but again, I’m not holding my breath.
Later that evening . . . Geez, the hits just keep on comin’. I felt bad about keeping Mr. Binkles penned up all evening, so I let him out. He seemed to be behaving himself and didn’t have any interest in the couch, so I resumed my lounging position, taking up the full length of the couch. The Binkles jumped up once or twice for a petting and then jumped down. The third time, however, he jumped up near my face, grabbed a piece of my face in his sharp little teeth and latched on.
That’s pretty much the last straw. So, I think I’ll just sit here with my bleeding face and have myself a good cry. What a lovely, lovely way to cap off the week.