I'm enjoying my new job. It's fun discovering that I'm actually good at things I didn't know I was good at. It's also fun to learn that when I learn I'm not good at some things that I don't beat myself up over it like I used to. I figure I'll just learn how to be better at whatever it is I've just learned I'm not good at at all.
Or not.
I've learned I can't be good at everything.
Contrary to what you've always believed!
Other things I've learned, or remembered I learned long ago and have been reminded of over the past three weeks:
I hate driving on the highway with semi-trucks! Especially in a blizzard. And especially when I'm sandwiched between two of them, the three of us driving 15 mph for 45 straight minutes. The one behind me pushing it to 16 every now and then.
The twenty year old me would've been "Whatever." The forty five year old me is all, "One false move and I'm dead! Dead! Stop tailgating me, you idiot!"
I've also learned that in those sorts of situations I usually don't use the word idiot. The forty five year old me swears a lot.
For the last three weeks, I've had a lot of fun observing people in the elevator. While most of them don't speak, some of them do. And the ones who do seem to have a lot of guilt about not taking the stairs. I've had a handful of people tell me that they don't usually take the elevator, they take the stairs and then they tell me why. The little lady with the dark, poofy hair? Her ankle was sore. The older guy in the blue suit? He was just too tired. Stayed up too late watching the Super Bowl. Damn Saints. Or maybe it was Damn Colts. Can't remember. The cute worker guy? Was luggin' too much damn equipment to be haulin' it up the damn stairs.
As if any of these people need to make any excuses to me. The only excuse I have is impatience. I just always want to get wherever I'm going as fast as possible. Hurry up and please press the damn "Close Doors" button and let's be on our way. Thank you very much and I hope your ankle feels better soon!
I've learned that I'll probably never get over my PTSD from being robbed at gunpoint six years ago. You'd think after six years it would be ancient history. And most times it is except when it's not, like the morning last week when I walked around the first floor for 15 minutes avoiding getting into the elevator with a man who was standing in the lobby.
You might think that if he was going to take the elevator he wouldn't have waited for 15 minutes to do it. But, a-ha! You'd be wrong. Obviously, he was waiting for me to get on so he could rob me and shoot me. Or, you might think that I should have just taken the stairs. But, a-ha! You'd be wrong again. He would then have just robbed me and shot me in a dark stairwell.
And how long would it take for someone to find my dead body? Forever. Because everyone who normally takes the stairs is taking the damn elevator.
I have no idea what triggered me that morning. The young guy who robbed me had nothing in common with the man standing in the lobby wearing a suit, talking on his cell phone. It was just an instinct I had. And I've learned to pay attention to that instinct. Learned it the hard way. I knew that young guy six years ago was bad news the minute I laid eyes on him and I ignored that feeling and ended up with a gun to my head. But I've also learned that that instinct can't be trusted anymore because a lot of men scare me now. Even business men in suits talking on their cell phones.
Of everything that guy robbed me of -- Blue Kid's pre-school I.D. photo (so cute!), my great, cool purse I bought in New York City, my pretty, silver, ornate business card holder -- him robbing me of that very accurate fear instinct was the worst thing he took from me.
Damn idiot!
You know I'm thinking worse.
I've learned lots of other things that a lot of you working stiffs have probably learned, too. Morning radio stinks! The drive-thru at Wendy's around noon? Not for impatient people who prefer elevators. And the big one: 3:00pm is sleepy time. But, I'm slowly learning to push through that. Little by little, I'll get better at it.
Hey I thought I left a comment earlier! It was all about how much fun it is to hear about someone who's almost as neurotic as I am. I must have neurotically "done something wrong" (the great fear of all neurotics, as opposed to all those happy-go-lucky so-called normal people out there)...
Posted by: Danleo.blogspot.com | February 13, 2010 at 04:00 PM
The forty five year old me swears a lot.
You should wash that mouth out with soap, young lady!
~
Posted by: ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© | February 13, 2010 at 04:37 PM
I worked for a company in NYC in the late 90's early 00's, and our offices were in a building across from 30 Rock, 22 floors up. My boss, an older guy, was like clinically-afraid of elevators but had to ride one every day... to deal with his phobia, he'd always have to wait for an empty or semi-empty elevator and he'd walk straight to a back corner, head turned to the corner with his faced buried deep in the corner like a 10 yr old in time out! and eyes closed tight! Bizarre! One time while riding the elevator with him, someone noticed "Don", asked him a totally harmelss question and with an archi bunker grimace, eyes still closed, he says "could you please not talk to me right now?"... while i feel comfortable in elevators, I can always sense those who are tense!
Glad to see you back
Posted by: Kilgor Trout | February 14, 2010 at 09:41 AM
testing....
Posted by: blue girl | February 14, 2010 at 01:04 PM
Yay, I figured out how to turn word verification off. Let's say if I get spam slammed.
I've received emails that people can't comment and I'm hoping that now that I turned that off, that won't be a problem.
Or! All my commenters are neurotic and we do everything wrong. lol
KT, Poor scared elevator guy. I can't imagine being that afraid of something and having to face it every single day. He probably should have gone to a therapist.
I am that afraid of heights and had a horrible experience at an I-Max once. Can't imagine having to go through that every day.
Posted by: blue girl | February 14, 2010 at 01:08 PM
what is this JOB thing of which you speak?
elevator fear? there isn't much safer than modern elevators. Heck, I've ridden a bare elevator platform, no walls, up a shaft in construction...
Posted by: zombie rotten mcdonald | February 14, 2010 at 01:35 PM
Great post, Blue. I say trust your gut, no matter what the situation.
P.S. I love elevators.
Posted by: Von | February 15, 2010 at 05:16 PM
I heard a commercial for 5 hour energy drink. They said it will beat the 3:00 sleepies :-)
I may try it myself!
Posted by: Skimmer | February 15, 2010 at 07:40 PM
you rule BG
Posted by: Kathleen | February 16, 2010 at 01:46 PM
Don't feel bad about your PTSD. You have good reason to have it. The tornado hit our house 4 years ago and I still get nervous during thunderstorms.
Glad you're enjoying the job, BG.
Posted by: Brando | February 17, 2010 at 09:21 AM
Yikes. The robbing story--that's gotta stay with you for quite a while, I would think. Awful.
I've been lucky throughout my time in and around the Big Apple - never had a problem in 19 years (knocking on wood), although it's time to re-tune the radar as people become more desperate in desperate times. If someone decides they're gonna mug you, there's not much you can do (without greatly endangering yourself)
So glad that you lived to blog about it, tho.
Posted by: Blaiser | February 17, 2010 at 11:01 AM
Blaiser, "as people become more desperate in desperate times." Very true. Be careful out there.
And Brando, "Don't feel bad about your PTSD" The only thing I feel bad, extremely mad, downright freaked out over, is how it feels when I'm in the grips of it. I am both completely rational and irrational at the same time. The reasoning that goes on in my mind is something to behold. I can figure it all out and have no idea what I'm talking about all at the same time. And I know it all at once. Sometimes I think, Just shoot me, so I can get it over with. Stinks.
Posted by: blue girl | February 17, 2010 at 09:05 PM
I know the feeling. The odds of me ever being in the direct path of a tornado again are extremely slim, but that doesn't stop my mind from replaying "Twister" every time there's thunder outside. I just try to ride it out.
Posted by: Brando | February 18, 2010 at 09:03 AM
I have a fear of small birds, flying aimlesly around, attacking me, clawing and pecking my eyes out -- Nothing like this happens when my kids let our bird out in our kitchen, although you would think it was going to....My heart almost stops, I cover my head and put it down on the table until they put it back in the cage -
I think I saw the movie, "The Birds," to early in life...
It use to be Thunderstorms......
Posted by: yaya | February 18, 2010 at 05:08 PM
Lovely post, which I somehow missed for the past few days! Glad to hear it's all going well... more or less. And, I'd say you're doing well dealing with your PTSD... you're out there!!!
Posted by: Jennifer | February 19, 2010 at 08:50 AM