the three-month itch

For others it may be seven years, but I've never worked in a job that long, so I wouldn't know. One weekend just doesn't do it for me. Every Saturday night, I feel like I desperately need another day off. Mr. S. disabuses me of that thought right quick, though.

Three months is enough to start getting the lay of the land. Just when you'd think I should be starting to get comfortable, the flaws of my co-workers start to become very obvious.

Interestingly, I can no longer hide my own flaws either. Maybe it has something to do with my Purim persona. Probably doesn't help that I had a headache all weekend. (This time I believe it may have come from trying to wean myself off coffee a little too enthusiastically.)

On Thursday, I was working at my computer with someone who leaned over to point to something on my screen and I snapped at her (apparently) not to touch the screen. It's good, at least, that she told me I had scared her; maybe others have felt the same way but didn't say anything. I thanked her for that, but I suppose the damage was already done. Today, I berated a guy that arrived 20 min. late for the meeting I'd set with him, after he'd done the same thing on Thursday. My boss can't stand this guy's arrogance, and my co-writer (let's call her Kelly) who's been here for 9 years and has known him as problematic for years has little respect for him, so I think knowing this made me feel I had a bit of license that I probably shouldn't have taken. But I found my voice shaking with emotion as I told him that I found it insulting that he shows up for our meetings with no regard for the time. Poor guy was kind of shocked and said it wasn't personal, that he does it to others (including higher-ups) and gets reprimanded for it, but that's just the way it is, people grab you in the corridor to talk and make you late, etc. etc. After that, he was very well-behaved, I must say, and sat and worked with me in a very focussed way for an hour and a half, during which time I lightened up and didn't hold a grudge. But at the end of the time he said it had really pained him that I felt insulted, and he apologized. I hope I don't now get a reputation, but maybe it's inevitable. My boss can be a really shrill harpy to some of these guys, so I may be letting it affect my own self-control. I'll have to be careful, even if this jerk did deserve a little blast.

Well, I'm quite aware that I'm hypersensitive, but I get worse when I start to litfos tachat [settle in, or get comfortable, but in an annoying entitlement sense, as if one doesn't have to answer to anyone]. It's always kind of sad when the honeymoon period ends, that initial three months when I'm on my best behavior, but also looking at everyone I meet with optimism. The blissful (albeit out-of-the-loop) time when nobody tells me what they really think of their co-workers. The short-lived, politics-free idyll.

It's all very Pollyanna -- totally "Hey! Let's work together! We all want to make this company GREAT!" But little by little, this one's a child, that one's a misogynist, the other one is arrogant, and those ones are just into shouting each other down. These are the people that I must drag information out of, day after day. Some seem to be overworked, while others seem to spend a lot of time shmoozing.

Yes, it's an ambivalent relationship I have with gossip. I love it and I loathe it. But mainly, I recognize that the more bored or bitter I am, the more gossip tends to feed me like addictive junk food -- exactly like McD's fries.

And woe is me, but I am getting bored with this scene.