We heard back from the vet recently that Doc is all done (they called it “The Procedure” but you know they just wanted to say “Yep, no balls all done”) and is recovering nicely. Apparently he’s sitting next to the technicians and is weaving back and forth and acting drunk. Silly puppy. We get to bring him home tonight after 5pm and hopefully he’ll take it easy and won’t rip his stitches out. We also had him micro-chipped while he was sedated and I hope that the application site isn’t sore. I have the feeling we’ll all take it pretty easy tomorrow and we’ll try to help Doc be as comfortable as possible.
Also, since I know you’re all waiting in breathless anticipation to hear how my performance review went I won’t keep you in suspense: it went horribly. Badly wouldn’t come close to describing it. Neither would terribly. Apocalyptically may be going a bit far so I think I’ll stick with horribly.
This is the first bad performance review I have ever gotten (and I’ve had a job ever since I was 15!). I was screamed at, berated, and given impossibly bad feedback. In short, worst two hours ever. What made it tolerable was that I forgot to eat today. In all the excitement of getting Doc to the vet and getting to work on time I plumb forgot to eat. Then, my manager pushed my performance review back so many times that I never knew when it would be permissible to eat. So, I went from 6am-2pm with nary a food in my tummy. I’m hypoglycemic (which means that when I don’t eat I turn into a bit of a crack addict in search of a fix. Yes, I will mug you for your sandwich if I’m hungry) and that condition coupled with the stress and anger I felt turned the whole experience into a surreal charade. Almost like I was watching a movie of my horrible review.
I made it look like I was taking notes but the whole time I was writing down the various and sundry comments that came to me as my manager screamed at me. Thoughts like, “Well, I’m so glad those books I read on recruiting aren’t considered part of my dedication to work because boy, were they fun to read”, “If the movie was so important for me to see, why didn’t you let me see it during work hours?” (Yes, I did get yelled at today for not seeing a movie I was told to see by one of my managers. Yes, it’s as ridiculous as it sounds), “If it’s OK for you to swear at me whenever you feel like it, is it OK if I call you a f****** b****?” “I wonder what would happen if I just stood up, walked over to her and shook her hand and then left forever? Do you think Wes would be mad? He’d probably be mad. I’d better wait”.
After the review (let’s not call it a review, let’s call it The Evisceration). After The Evisceration I walked for half an hour to clear my head. Wes and I discussed what went down and then he made me come back to the office and eat. So here I am with a drunk puppy and all will to live sucked out of my ears. I really wanted to smoke a cigarette but didn’t (I decided to stop smoking whenever I get upset because there’s a lot of cancer in the women in my family and there’s no need to put myself at risk for an expensive, cathartic, mind-soothing thrill).
The problem with Eviscerations like this is that I now feel like I am terrible at everything. I had thought I was doing well at my job but I have been soundly disabused of that notion. Now that I know what my manager expects from me, I feel like I can’t do the job because she’s made me feel as though I can’t do, nor have I ever done, anything well.
I apologize for the rather somber tone of the post but I feel like I got the wind knocked out of me. I would like to think, however, that if what just happened to me in The Evisceration really were a movie it would have a hugely satisfying ending. Something extraordinary, like if I were to stand up and my manager were to stand up and then engage in a Bourne Ultimatum-style fight wherein I would deliver the final blow with a resounding “WhuPAH!” and she would crumple (not dead, just KO).
Even better would be a recreation of the scene from “Fight Club” wherein I beat the snot out of myself and then waited for the security guards to burst in on me and my manager at our most excellent moment together (I’m reading the book Fight Club right now, actually, and that may not be the best book for me to be reading). If that were the ending of my movie (titled “The Evisceration”, of course) at least I would have monetary security AND my smirking revenge. Is revenge best served cold or smirking, I wonder?