I celebrate myself, and sing myself…
Today is my sixth anniversary at my job.
Most days, I love my job. Today, I found myself sending out two very barbed e mails before 8:30 AM. One of them came back and bit me squarely on the ass.
I was telling a sales guy he needed to extricate himself from a process in a really snarky way, and he forwarded the snarky e mail to a customer. Really, dumbass? REALLY? This guy is dumber than a box of hair.
But, apparently, I never learn.
Snark-o-grams aside, it's been a good six years. And OK, I get frustrated. But it's because I care. I do. I love my customers, I've made good friends and great connections here. I do good work. And occasionally, I lose patience and tell people who are being counterproductive where they can take their processes.
If I were a richer woman, with a little money to blow on something foolish, I’d send myself flowers today.
With a mysterious note that says,
To someone special on her 6th Anniversary…
From your biggest fan.
But since I’m practical, dammit, I’ll settle for a pretty picture of flowers here.
|If I ordered them now, they'd be here by 3PM... just saying.|
To someone special (me). From… her biggest fan (also me)*.
*This year of being my own cheerleader is off to a creepy start, don't you think?