T is for Timid

Haleleujia Brother! I am here to comfort the sinner, and return the stray man to the Pope. Let him whose...

ever see the movie "Cat Balou" ... a lot? It was one of my favorites for about six months there somewhere in the dank depths of my pre-teen weirdness. I don't know if it explains something, or makes me even scarier... but it's TRUE.

And today, I am here to tell you that it is HARD. HARD. HARD to communicate to people in the office without stepping on landmines of the shitastrophic variety. Land mines. In the office. Hidden. Evil. ...or, to quote an office-mate of mine who happened to be talking about the way my email made her feel about our relationship... Icky.

Yes. I made the mistake of letting her know that I was getting frustrated after her sixth attempt to reschedule me to a new time and/or date for an appointment. Even spread out over the two appointments we tried to set, that's pushing it. But she didn't ask for feedback, or maybe the moon is in Saturn again, or maybe she'd just been told the same thing by a REAL client, and not just the upstart new office-mate who was doing a trade-- my services for hers-- and it rubbed her the wrong way.

Sigh. I decided that rather than jeopardize my comfort (and everyone else's) while working in the office we all share, I'd take full responsibility for our "miscommunication" and apologize.
A lot.

I think she has forgiven me, and decided to move magnanimously forward without holding any bad feelings for how I insulted her. I am grateful, Yogisan. I am also going to write scathing criticisms of the Icky in the Office Communication Network on my private blog-- because it makes me feel a little bit better about things.

Sad, but True. Just like my pre-teen fascination with corny Westerns with wimpy female leads.