Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Ungrateful Grinch

Oh, today has been a decidedly unChristmasy one. Yes it has. Use the picture as metaphor, it's been blurry and garish and somewhat overdone. An excess of that which is unnecessary and grating.

I am done, fried, fork tender and served on a bed of julienned carrots.

I could talk about how my Christmas Trip Cruise Directing was poked at. I could talk about how I forgot shit that I wanted to do and did a lot of stuff I didn't want to do. I could talk about how just when I thought I had some freaking plans in place one of the carefully placed supports was removed for service elsewhere in the crumbling infrastructure that is the holiday season. I'm not going to, though. I'm going to talk about how a good thing wigged me out so bad I almost cried.

I fucking hate the performance review process of having a "real" job. The fire of a thousand suns doesn't begin to describe it. My bosses aren't mean about it, I don't have to write things down, there's no proof and grading aspect to it, so I know it could be worse but I still hate it. I worry about it after Thanksgiving when I know it's going to come up at some point and I have to wait for them to suggest it. I worry about it when they suggest some vague time for it. I worry about it while it is inevitably postponed a couple of times. I worry about it while it's happening and I worry about it afterwards. If I tell you that I'm still worrying about both of the annual reviews I've had in this job already you would have to believe me because it's true.

I know what I'm doing wrong. I know where I'm not measuring up. I know where and how I could be better. I get that. Sitting face to face with these perfectly nice old geezers who claim to like me and have them tell me what they like and what they don't like about what I do is the adult equivalent to the first time you were punished by having your parents be disappointed instead of angry. Performance review in highly personal situations like this should be on paper, there should be a clear rubric and it should be sealed for the recipient to read when they have some privacy. Don't fucking make me wait for you to call me into a conference room and sit at a table looking practicedly casual while you judge me!

So, today, after a couple of weeks of idle chatter, they talked and then they called me in and said that, since we were short on time, they'd go over the numbers with me now and then give me a more considered review next week.

Next week.

So I fucking have to worry about this goddamned review over Christmas! I couldn't even just walk out of there with it behind me tonight and just say, "You know, it's over, plenty of time to worry about it when you get back after Christmas." I can't believe it's not over. I can't fucking believe it.

The numbers were good. The projections for next year's numbers were not great (the structure is based on percentages and if you kept getting the same percent of an ever-increasing salary, well, it'd just be too good to be true so next year seems to be the time that will change) and I have to explore different health insurance options as a show of good faith (cool, changing insurance for a third time in 3 years, totally can't wait for that, god I hate insurance as much as I hate performance reviews) and I have to wait to have my stupid review for a whole other week.

Yes, I got a raise and a bonus and I'm still bellyaching. I am an ungrateful bitch. Going to sit on the couch and eat rum cake (made by Kath, thanks Kath!) and cry now.


  1. Ugh! Having to wait for the rest of the review has to suck. I can identify with you there.

    Once, I had to get a security clearance. I had to be very "honest" on the application about certain "things." Back then, it was rare for someone's file to get pulled for what was called the "complete" investigation where they visit you and yours in person for interviews. I got a call on the friday before labor day. "Hello, this is Agent so and so. We need to talk to you about some "issues" from your past. Will you be in the office on Tuesday?" If that wasn't the worst weekend of all time.

  2. Try, try, try not to worry. I know that is about as likely as turning on the TV and not seeing reality shows right now.
    But there is one thought... it could be good.
    I know about old men and crunchy and weird and uncomfortable.
    It has been my sex life in the 00's.
    And I like to know. I don't like things kept from me. I like to know everything.
    We will all do anything we can to ease you through all thes processes however tedious they may seem.
    And yes, I am so confident in how much we all love you that I am committing everyone with asking.

  3. Honey. I'm sorry. I've got nothing useful to add, so I'm just going to *hug*

  4. You seemed a little anxious last night as we watched "Battle of the Choirs." I chalked the anxiety up to your concern whether Nick Lachey's choir would win; little did I know you were having a major angstfest. So sorry, I hope the rum cake helped a teeny bit.