The work week finished rather better than it started: working late on Tuesday meant I could get through the check run on Wednesday instead of having it lap over into Thursday, and that meant I could work on my usual Thursday tasks all day. And therefore, be CAUGHT UP.
Catching up. It’s a theme! Anyway, I got through most of what I wanted to accomplish between yesterday and today so I could leave early today (offsetting Tuesday) with a clear conscience.
It’s a good thing, too, because I was SO tempted to give someone a stern talking to…
…and considering it was the head honcho I was wishing I could “chat” with, escaping that temptation meant I didn’t risk my job.
Because you know how I mentioned a while back that I don’t eat lunch in the lunchroom due to head honcho’s annoying tendency to editorialize on my food? Now, every time he actually sees me eat something, he’s decided he has to comment on the fact I’m eating. As in, what an amazing thing it is and he didn’t know I ate anymore, etc.
Which is just as irritating as commenting on my food choices.
Today, during lunch, I sat at my desk and ate a PB & J I had purposely not eaten earlier specifically because I wanted to avoid him passing by and seeing me eating. So everyone else is ate lunch away from their desks, and I’m catching up on author blogs and progressive blogs and food blogs and Making Light, and of course he has to finish his lunch early and see me with my (then) half-sammie and start in with the how pleased he is to see me eating shtick and then away he went and I did my best to laugh it off.
I know he means well. The execution of that well-meaning-ness sucks sewer water. And today, for some reason, he just couldn’t let it go. I was filing the last month’s worth of check-run paperwork, with my direct report and the CFO on the other side of the aisle, and head honcho passes, then comes back and makes more comments about how nice it was to see me eating and how he’s worried about it. To which I said, outwardly laughing and inwardly ticked off, “You can tell by looking at me I’m not starving myself,” or something to that effect.
Instead of taking it as a hint to stop already, he plowed right on with how when we get older we have to take care of our nutrition better so we don’t lose our energy in the middle of the day, unlike these young kids — pointing at my direct report who is maybe thirty and the mother of two — at which I couldn’t help myself: “Hey! I’m young!” Because dammit, I can talk about my age, and my friends can if they must, but it is so inappropriate for the head of the company to talk like that. And he said yes, yes, of course — HUMORING ME, he was HUMORING ME — and then finally went back to his office.
My direct report and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes and laughed (wryly, in my case). Even the CFO chuckled and shook his head. And if I want to continue working there, there is not a damned thing I can do about it. When I do find a bigger and better Next Thing, though, the exit interview is going to be a doozy.
Tonight, though, in an attempt to let it the hell go already, I’ll concentrate on my gratitude for the job, for the flexibility when the job load demands it, and for the fact they’ve already approved my time off for the Burn. 🙂