Whatevs

This post is rated R for real profanity used in real life.

I have a point, honest. But to get to my point, I need to tell a story. Thank you in advance for reading.

Several years ago, I was working at a pretty stressful job that became unnecessarily even more stressful whenever an assistant supervisor was left in charge two shifts per week. I consider her to be the second-worst supervisor of my career. (The worst supervisor bought me health insurance illegally. The third-worst supervisor currently still works with me.)

One particular night, this assistant supervisor was in charge. She was taking a personal call at her desk, as usual, and she was talking about us to her boyfriend, as usual, and we could hear every word she said, as usual, because none of us had cubicles and none of us were allowed to work with headphones to block out any noise. An employee from a different department came over to ask this assistant supervisor a question, so she told her boyfriend on the phone, "Hold on; let me see what this dumbass wants." If memory serves, a new trainee who was fresh out of college also had questions for this assistant supervisor, and they seemed to have some sort of disagreement that offended her and/or him. The tension in the non-privacy, non-cubicle room was quite thick that night.

I believe it was the following night, when our regular supervisor was in charge, that I went to the new trainee and asked him if he was doing all right. He said, "Yeah," but what he communicated more to me was his countenance. He had this look on his face that I almost envy now. It was a very casual, very relaxed, very carefree, almost apathetic smile that communicated, "Whatever. I don't care if I get fired. I can't do anything right for these people. I am so over this stupid job situation. Just whatevs." And he did get fired, I think the night after that, after we had met an important deadline.

I felt that he had been the victim of an injustice, and I felt that our assistant supervisor had treated us very poorly. So, I wrote a candid letter to my supervisors who were higher up, and I explained in detail the unprofessional behavior that I had witnessed from the assistant supervisor. My higher-up supervisors were very understanding when they received my letter, and they even talked to the assistant supervisor about what happened, because I saw her crying while she exited a meeting. But I'm guessing she only received a slap on the wrist, because she wasn't demoted, and the work environment barely changed at all. (The assistant supervisor rarely gave me eye contact or spoke to me after that, which honestly was an improvement.) I suspect that she might still be working there today.

Eventually, I left that job, but something that really impressed me was my ex-coworker's countenance: the one that said, "Whatevs." I think I get it now.

"Woe is me, that I dwell in Meshech, that I dwell among the tents of Kedar! My soul has dwelt too long with one who hates peace. I am for peace; but when I speak, they are for war." (Psalm 120:5-7)

I don't exactly know what was going on in Meshech or Kedar that inspired the psalmist to complain so bitterly, but I'm guessing it was a terrible environment and that the psalmist must have been pretty miserable. Maybe he had "PLEASE FIRE ME" tattooed to his forehead, too.

Welcome back to another evening of Job Venting With Tirzah. On tonight's menu, we have past traumas for an appetizer, light-bulb revelation for our main course, and an adorable cat photo for dessert.

My therapist has been helping me see that many of my current job frustrations more than likely are rooted in past parent wounds that are still healing. I have noticed that I flare up on the inside anytime I feel neglected. Add rejection, betrayal, and shame-filled criticism to the mix, and you've got a mental-health crisis on your hands.

Speaking of parents, after I moved back in with them about a decade ago, my ex-mother was getting to know my cats. She was already quite fond of Macho because he reminded her of a cat she used to know. She enjoyed playing with Macho in the evenings. However, it took her a bit longer to warm up to Choochie. I remember during one of her playtimes with Macho, my ex-mother motioned toward Choochie and asked me with a macho-hispanic headflick, "¿Y esa?" If I'm not mistaken, she was basically saying in her gestured question, "I understand that your boy cat is fun because he plays with me, but what about your girl cat? I am unimpressed with her."

At first, I was deeply offended by her question, even though I did not express this offense, because Choochie has always been my little buddy who always insists on snuggling as closely to me as possible. (In this photo I shared, she was extremely interested in playing with my camera strap.) But of course, in due time, Choochie won my ex-mother's heart, I think by attacking her while she was smoothing out my bed comforter. Yeah, Choochie will do that. She's a cat.

The thing is, Choochie had to DO something drastic to impress my ex-mother. I understand now that that's pretty much what EVERYBODY had to do to get on her good side, including me. If you made one little mistake, you were on her bad side, and you would have to spin straw into gold to get back on her good side. But the thing is, I already knew that Choochie was awesome, because I had already taken the time to get to know her. She didn't have to jump through any hoops with me.

I hope you enjoyed tonight's menu. For your beverage selection, would you like Gosh No Wonder I Need Therapy or I'm Frickin' Surprised Tirzah Is Still Alive?

So, in the environment I grew up in, I was pretty much doomed unless I could jump through all the right hoops at all the right times. Similarly, in my current work environment, I am pretty much doomed unless I will jump through all the right hoops at all the right times. Remember my new trainee coworker whose countenance I admired? I suspect that he understood this concept much sooner than I did. "I know I can't please these people. Whatevs."

After I left my family, of course I grieved so hard it felt like I had fallen into a bottomless pit of sadness. But there was no way I was going to bicker with them back and forth over why I had left. If I had, they wouldn't have stopped stop torturing me. Whatevs.

At my current work environment, I understand now that I am employed by people who are impossible to please, kinda like the rich kid next door who would invite you to come play, only to change the rules constantly to manipulate them to win and you to lose. They're never going to stop asking me to work unreasonable workloads in unreasonable conditions. I need to just keep doing my best, knowing that I belong to Somebody who's looking after me and who will help me, and if my best efforts aren't good enough, so be it. Whatevs.

And you know what else? Not everybody is going to be exactly like Macho, who meets your exact expectations of what a cat is supposed to be like because he instantly plays with anything you dangle in front of his adorable face. Maybe some people are more like Choochie, who may not be impressive at first, but who will inspire your devotion as soon as you see how adorable she really is. Not everybody is a performance-driven machine. Some of us are deep, long-term snugglers.

I hope I don't have any apathy issues that I'll need to discuss with my therapist later. But if you won't accept me unless I jump through your severely, ludicrously impossible hoops, whatevs. I may not be precious to you, but I'm precious to my Father. I know who I am.