Suffice to say, I did not make it through the day without succumbing to the temptation of the cookies. To my credit, they were really fucking awesome cookies. But I admit, I probably didn't need to eat four of them to figure that out.
So when my husband IM'd me asking if I was amenable to "corndogs and fries for dinner?" I probably should have said "no, thank you." However, I had just read an email sent to my department by our managing partner, which said something to the effect of "someone told me you're all standing around talking instead of sitting at your desks working, do I need to come up there?" and I was sorely tempted to type in "sure, big fella, why don't you come up here and spank me, I've been ever so naughty" and hit send. Instead, I IM'd my husband back and told him to save two corndogs for me.
I spent the drive home in silence, thinking. Why I have to work in a field where the divide between haves and have nots is so incredibly obvious and wide, and why the haves feel such a need to treat us have-nots like we've never really stopped being 3 years old. Honestly, I'm a grown-ass woman. I have a bachelor's degree, a mortgage and two children. I don't need someone to send me an email reminder that the firm dress code doesn't disappear just because the temperatures outside are rising. I don't need someone to stand over me and track my every move 24/7 to make sure I don't let my work suffer in favor of idle chit chat. I don't need nursemaiding, for fucking out loud. And I'm getting damned sick and tired of people who seem to think I do.
Then I wondered why it bothers me so much. Why there are some people who take that kind of bureaucratic bullshit and let it roll off their backs like so much water. Why I can't be that way, just go about my business and be secure enough in my own self-worth to not let things like that offend me so much. Who's right--those of us who want to slap the shit out of the condescending asshats, or those who really don't take it to heart? Who's winning?
And then, will I ever be happy in any job I take? Really, when am I at my happiest?
The short answer: weekends, when I'm home with my kids. Holidays, days off, when I'm taking care of my house and doing shit with my kids. The days when I'm not stretching myself irreparably thin laboring in a modern-day sweatshop and trying to cram the rest of my life into an obscenely short time period.
So you can imagine the frame of mind I was in when I picked up the older boy from school and he told me he'd gotten into a fight on the playground. After I gave myself a time out (mostly to prevent myself from beating him senseless), I let him give me the whole story, and in a nutshell, some girl complained another boy was being mean to her, so Bob went to open a can of whoopass on the boy, only to discover said boy and said boy's friends had every intention of opening a can of whoopass on Bob. Oops. I asked him if he'd learned anything from this experience, to which he replied "don't get involved and take care of myself." Good call, kid. Good call.
After dinner, the older one and I went to Target--I've had my eye on some rubber boots and decided today was the day. I love them. And the next rainy day, I will wear them to work. All day. Because the dress code doesn't say shit about rubber boots.
After we returned, this guy:
decided to ride this:
down these:
Fortunately, he was mostly scared (like his parents) and after many hugs and kisses, all is well. I suppose he's learned something today, too.
What have I learned? I have no idea. And I'm too tired right now to figure it out. Hopefully tomorrow I'll have some time to think during my and Bob's Awesome Bus Adventure.
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