You know you have a bad attitude about work when you start off each day asking yourself questions like, “How much can I get away with?” and “How much can I put off until tomorrow?” and “How can I leave early?”
I’m waiting for my friend B to pick me up in her brand-new-used blue GTI. B and I work for the same company, doing essentially the same thing, except she’s been with the company longer than I have and can explain to people what it is we actually do. We’re carpooling to the
Ah! Muay Thai kickboxing at Gold’s Gym. When I had first joined the gym, I had taken every single class except for this one. Cardiofunk, step aerobics, afro-caribbean aerobics, tae-bo class….I’d make my way up from the back of cardio room and eventually end up front and center, having memorized the choreography and the dance mixes for each class. Melissa would yell out, “Watch the girl in the red T-shirt, she knows the steps!” Yikes, I’m the girl the red T-shirt, so of course, I flub up the steps right when she yells this out. Damn performance anxiety.
I walked by this kickboxing class many times before. I spy the petite spiky-haired platinum blond girl in the corner. She’s wiry and muscular and kind of scary. Doesn’t crack a smile at all, that one. Like
“Do you want to go with me to the kickboxing class tomorrow, you know, the real kickboxing class?” Carmen, a pretty brunette in tae-bo class, asks me one day. “Really? Sure, I’ve been wanting to try it,” I answer. I am surprised at my eagerness to agree. But upon reflection, I’m not really surprised. Carmen’s offer to hold my hand was just the impetus I needed. So often I rely on outside forces to compel me into action.
A few weeks ago at work, our Director had an afternoon all-branch meeting. Afternoon? We usually had them in the morning. Whisperings of something bad about to happen were pinballing across cube walls but that afternoon, the Director felt no need to whisper. He spoke loud and clear. Apparently, we did so awesomely bad in 2004, change was underway. Massive, painful, ugly, excrutiating change.
Let me synopsize his message for you: CHANGE. COMPLACENCY KILLS. RENEWED URGENCY. MORE INSPECTION. And if you don’t like it, thank you but buh-bye.
Father knows best after all and what does a parent who subscribes to tough love do when his naughty kids misbehave? He takes away their privileges. Suddenly, no one can work from home anymore or have flex-time. No exceptions. (But, of course, there are always exceptions, but that’s a whole ‘nother blog entry.)
I sat there, my temperature slowly rising, eyes glazed over. All I could think was Goddamn it no more kickboxing. Shit goddamned white boss motherfucker. How dare he tell me what I can or cannot do?
I received no sympathy for my S.O. “So you have to work
He doesn’t understand that for the last four years I’ve always finagled a way to take this kickboxing class at least three times a week. I’ve always been able to design an argument to prove that the company would actually benefit if they would allow me to continue with my class. For the last year, the flexible schedule was the only reason I was sticking to this godforsaken soul-sucking job at all.
As much as I hate to admit it, the Director doled out a necessary bitch-slap to my face. His words urging us to change for the betterment of our company incited me to change the stagnancy of my own job situation.
Thanks, boss man.
CHANGE. COMPLACENCY KILLS. RENEWED URGENCY. MORE INSPECTION. Suddenly these words, when contributing to the betterment of May V. Espeña, made so much more sense.
