My old boss isn't my boss anymore, but he's not gone yet either, and if it weren't for him and Dave, I'd be in the corner whimpering with the best of them.
One lesson that I relearn each week is that competence is a tricky thing, and purported brilliance even trickier. It's like skin -- you want to show SOME in order to be attractive, but not too much or you're a WHORE.
Call me an office whore then, little miss over-competent. One moment I'm drowning in resentment from the higher-ups, and the next I'm drowning in work!
I have essentially three bosses right now, all of them prestigious and excellent in their own rights, but FUCK will SOMEONE explain to them that if they're short on resources, that DOESN'T mean that GILA will get it DONE?!?!?
Oh wait, it DOES mean that.
It just means that I'll spend most of my Wednesday snorting coffee for lack of sleep and strength.
And in other news, there's a clown juggling for a children's charity outside our building.
It's funny, but (if I had a coin for every sentence I started that way) at a party surrounded by performer friends, I won't pick up the balls.
With the guy outside for charity -- a little passing? NO PROBLEM. On my way back from an urgent interruption to the executive retreat down the street, I stopped, put down my notes, and surprise the hell out of him by stealing the balls from his hand, then jugggling them back. Hell, I surprised the hell otu of myself by the time my brain caught up to what my hands had done. (last time I did that I was in Grenoble, with the first signs of melting snow in 1998)
If I play my overworked cards right I'll win a week paid trip to Montreal, complete with airfare, hotel, and not having to tell the 'rents.
Assuming I find a ()(*@#& hotel -- the Queen E, Sheraton, and three others are all BOOKED SOLID for that week in June? Do I smell FESETIVAL? OOoohh...
If anyone has a hotel suggestion within WALKING DISTANCE of McGill and St-Catherine (or Dorchester), I'd sho' be appreciative.
And in other news, on Monday night a random selection of the usual suspects returned to help card two cubic yards of black earth into the raised veggie garden. Two cubic yards... I haven't had a single second to plant a single cuke seedling yet, but gorsh is it beautiful dirt.
We pulled off our socks and wiggled our toes in it, we lay on our bellies and wriggled ourselves in it, we ate more meat than should be humanly possible en masse in this year's first inaugural new landcsape barbaecue of the season...
...and now it's time for my singing lesson.
I have a job interview tomorrow for a senior position within our division, and got offered another one not ten minutes ago.
My clever new boss is obviously aware of just how much pressure he can load on me by keeping me high on the sense of appreciation.
Heh. I have to run. More rambling tomorrah.