I didn’t marry a man named Spike just to throw my mother for a loop.
After the first decade of my adult life, I recognized a natural strength in Spike that could balance the natural strength I found in myself. After playing the role of the strong, decisive, manager of every relationship I had ever developed, I met my match; someone I could flex my strength and my opinion to the nth degree and still feel feminine.
Wednesday night I browsed my computer to dust off my resume. It’s not the first time in the last five years. Apparently I’ve updated that resume three or four times, but nothing has ever come of it, except maybe a raise when I mentioned that I had other options. But I’m sick of coercion. It isn’t satisfying to get what you want by holding someone’s feet to the fire. And I’m probably stupid to think they would come back offering more later. They never intended to offer me what I have now, so they’re certainly never going to offer me more.
“Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift. That’s why it’s called the present.” – Alice Morse Earle
One month ago I created something I may continue to thank myself for. No matter if I’m a street sweeper or a CEO, I will have just as many hours in each day as everyone else. How do I use those hours? And curiously I wonder, how do others use the same hours?
No, that’s not helpful. In what way could that be helpful? Seriously, Microsoft, these messages blow my mind sometimes.
I’ve been working on a project for over a year now and the data is too much for Excel to handle. It keeps crashing. I should just throw it all in Access, but I feel like Excel should be able to keep up. It’s only 2200 records!
“Anyone who knew Violet well could tell she was thinking hard, because her long hair was tied up in a ribbon to keep it out of her eyes. Violet had a real knack for inventing and building strange devices, so her brain was often filled with images of pulleys, levers, and gears, and she never wanted to be distracted by something as trivial as her hair.” – Lemony Snicket, The Bad Beginning
In a classical sense, I don’t really think of myself as a highly artistic person. I may turn a phrase here and there when I write, but I can’t draw or paint or sculpt. My creative skills manifest in efficiency. Economy of words. Logical layout of processes. Anticipation of questions and problems. My inventions do not have wheels, but they do have motion. My creations do not produce widgets, but they do make money. I’m an engineer of policy, and a master of procedure. What I do makes people yawn and yell, and it makes their lives a hell of a lot easier than they were before.
Administration is a Gift – one I’ve found few will thank me for having. Most might wish my creativity would end up on canvas rather than in one more thing they have to change. “They’ll thank me one day,” can only make its way through my head so many times before I start to doubt it.
I’ve made a lot of changes in my career as an administrator in a lot of companies. None of them thanked me for it… And none of them have abandoned the changes. None of them went back to the way it was before. My changes stuck. Other than refined skills, it’s the only thing I have to show for all the grief I’ve endured.
Will they sing my praises one day? Will I get to hear it? I often claim that my creative process does not require motivation from the outside. I work and create for my own sake, not for approval and applause. But God, it would be nice to hear a kind word. At the very least, the nay-sayers could keep their noxious opinions to themselves.