All My Work is Guaranteed to Last the Length of Your Recovery

I had one of those days again—the kind where nothing seems to go right.  Woke up late.  Fantastic.  Still managed to fall in a rabbit hole for half an hour.  I accept responsibility, because I am a mature adult.  Got to work late, and I didn’t use traffic as an excuse, though it was a bitch this morning.  (I sat at the intersection by my apartment for five minutes without moving.)  Saw a line of students waiting to be served.  Jumped right in, head first.  Of course Dave wasn’t in today.  It’s Tuesday after a three-day weekend, the first work day after a move-in and his big night out for the concert, a day before his performance review, and just a few short weeks before he’s leaving to be with his wife after the birth of their baby.  I don’t begrudge him his sick time, I’ve said it before, but what I have a problem with is he consistently takes time off when the office is busiest.  I’m expected to cover for him when he’s out, and consequently my whole week gets messed up.

I have responsibilities that I can’t pass on to others.  I have responsibilities that are time sensitive.  I have responsibilities that affect each and every employee in my department.  I don’t call in sick, go on vacation, or have a baby (yeah, I know it’s irrational) when my absence is going to affect everyone in a huge way.  I honestly don’t mind stepping up to help out, but what about my work?  I live in a sea of paper.  I can’t find things because I’ve had no time to file.  I’ve lost things because I’m being pulled in a thousand different directions.  My own quality of work is suffering because I am over-extended.

What do I do?  Do I say, “I’m sorry I’m such a twit and I’ve forgotten to do X, Y, and Z”?  Do I bury my head in the sand and hope no one notices?  I loved being the Superheroine of Small Offices Everywhere because when things got this bad I could walk away.  Now I have no choice but to suck it up and power through.  At least I’m through my probationary period.  Bitches can’t fire me now.

It’s Dave’s review tomorrow.  What do I say?  Do I tell him I feel disrespected?  Do I tell him I’m on to his game?  Or do I say none of the above, and give him a pat on the back in the hopes he won’t pull a vindictive stunt during my review?  I guess I have to wonder how important self-preservation is to me.

Thanks for listening, dear diary.

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4 Responses to All My Work is Guaranteed to Last the Length of Your Recovery

  1. d says:

    I’d say give him hell, but uhm I probably wouldn’t so….

  2. Weltsie says:

    I’d kill him with kindness. But easier said than done, I realize.

    It sounds like you need either a yummy latte or a strong cocktail. We should do one or both sometime in the next week. 🙂

  3. Notorious M.A.G. says:

    I say just take him out pilot style! Get in your viper and shoot him down!!!! 🙂 j/k.

  4. Girl Friday says:

    Thanks ladies for the support 🙂 I didn’t give him hell, kill him with kindness, or shoot the frakker out of the sky, but I was a bit reserved and didn’t apologize for not doing his filing and billing, etc. I just sat on my side of the cubicle and did my work. I’m tragically behind and don’t have time to deal with him. I was trying to shred a bunch of documents and ended up getting called away in the middle of my project so it’s sitting in a pile…just one more thing I have to find time to clean up tomorrow.

    Lattes and cocktails would be great, Weltsie.

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