The delicate flower what's her name

Had a guy come up to ask a question. I could see him, but he couldn’t see me. He asked to see Boss, who was out that day. He says, “Oh, well where’s….. that girl?” Alrighty then. Never mind that I’ve been here six months. It’s shocking how often people don’t use my name. Just now a guy walked up to my office, and asked someone else if “she” is here. Just take two more steps forward. I’m right here at my desk. My name is not hard to remember or pronounce, and I am not Voldemort. I am the only one with my name in the building. Not that hard.

I don't necessarily mind when people call me nicknames, or even pet names. I live in the South, (and it sounds better if you exaggerate the accent on south) so it's something I'm used to, and everyone that does it is always very respectful. It's not rare that I go through a day with a few dears, the occasional sweetheart or hon, and one guy calls me pretty lady. These people are almost all my father's age or older, and I think half of them feel like I'm their kid, because I'm the same age as their children.

What I do have a problem with, though, is the what's her names, the "that girl"s, and the she/her. I have a name, it's there for you to use. If you forget for some reason, you can glance at my business cards that are right there on the desk in front of you.

Some days, I'm not sure the guy across the hall knows my name. Logically, I'm sure he does. I share a name with one of his daughters. He often calls me sunshine, which is nice. I am the age of his daughters, so it's not weird. However. He's called me the wrong name twice now. He keeps calling me Carrie. My name is not Carrie. There is a Carrie that comes sometimes. She and I look nothing alike. At all. The first time, he kept talking and made his way into my office. Which was good. Cause I was wondering if Carrie had come in and I missed it. The second time, I just ignored it, and he sorted himself out. I don't think he knows that he's called me by the wrong name. 

One possible consequence of people feeling sort of like I'm everyone's kid (I'm well into my mid 20's but have been reliably informed by at least two seperate people on seperate occasions that I look about 17) is that they feel like I'm delicate. I don't mind people doing things for me, opening doors, offering to carry obviously heavy packages, all helpful. Where it turns, though, is when they take it too far.  

For example, one day shortly after I started, there was a little puddle of grease in the hallway. It was about the size if my hand, a different color than the floor, and in the middle. Someone came through to wipe it up, which I appreciated, but his reasoning was that he didn't want me to trip.

Another time, I was borrowing a cart from the stockroom. It was empty. The guy that works in the stockroom told one of the mechanics that I needed help pushing it up to the front. The guy immediately agreed. Which was nice, but super unnecessary. 

Last week, I was bent over at the waist to cut one of those ties off a box of paper. Not to pick it up. Just to snip that tie thing, whatever it's called. My boss came through and told me to be careful, I was going to hurt myself. Like, what? I'm sorry. If I hurt myself by bending over, I think I need to just go straight to the hospital. I'm not 80. I mean, I act like it sometimes, but still. I was fine.




P.S.
I finally got around to picking names for my coworkers, and you can find that page labeled The Cast by clicking the hyperlink, and also in the menu on the right. I finished it after I wrote this week's posts, so I'll start using those names Friday and going forward.

What is normal, anyway?

I've thought all this year that I'd have more free time when X happens. When I finally got a boss, when we switched to a new timekeeping system, when this or that happens. I thought everything would even out and I'd have a "normal" workday.

That hasn't happened yet. I hit six months at this job in two weeks, and it feels like it's been at least a year. I  feel like I've hardly paused for breath. I think that's been evident in how often I've been posting and the kind of content I've shared.

It was easy to post at the paper. There was always stuff going on to write about, but the cast was small and predictable. Here though, there's a lot I can't share. Partially because, being in HR, there's confidential material I'm dealing with. There's other stuff that's just too specific, and wouldn't make sense to people outside the building. The people are different. I see more people, and they're focused on their jobs. We don't share a lot about our personal lives. Both because they're professionals, unlike some others I've worked with in the past, and they have their lives, at least on the outside, more or less together.

I'm not going anywhere, because I really enjoy doing this. I miss it the weeks I can't get a post out. I need to take the time to do more things like this, because I really do love it. I've had some health issues recently, nothing too serious, but it's making the little time I have off all the more precious. I'm hopeful that I'll have a resolution soon, and start feeling better.

My living situation is also hopefully about to change, not necessarily for the better, because I love where I'm living now, but it's time for a change. When it does, I'll be taking a vacation from work for a week to get the move sorted out, because I am not dealing with that and work at the same time. No thank you.

I'm working on a way to label my coworkers similarly to how I did for the people at the paper, so I can include more details in my posts, instead of this person said this. The entire place is full of stories, I just need to figure out how to tell them.

Unsupervised

So y'all. This week is my chance. Boss is going to be out of town starting tomorrow, and there's like five or six people out at various times the rest of the week. Who knows what kind of trouble I can get myself into.

Of course, when I told my boss this, the best example I could come up with was to sit in my office with the door locked and eat an entire cake by myself.

Not the best, I imagine. Also, I couldn't actually do that, because even if it wouldn't wreak havoc with my blood sugar, I dont know that I could finish a whole cake by myself in one sitting. Like three cupcakes though, I could do. But that just seems sad.

Finally Friday

Whew. What a week, y'all.

I think the investigation of the crack pipe continues today, Boss was out yesterday, and I was not going to handle that in his absence.

I just spent half an hour looking for a rolling box that one of the contractors left here last week. You don't realize how big a plant is until you're looking for a one by two box. It's big. I finally found it, and it wasn't a box, it was a cart. There's a difference, especially when you're shaking down supervisors to see who's seen it.

I have now injured/poisoned two people with the candy tub in my office. The first person was eating cinnamon candies, and wondering why they had sores in their mouth. A week in, they remembered they were allergic to cinnamon. And there's these gross taffy like things in there, I didn't think anyone actually ate them. One of the managers did. And then heard/felt a crunch. Pulled out the candy, and the crown came with it. So that's fun.

It's Friday though. Hallelujah.

Alrighty then

I'm still here, I promise. It's been an absolutely wild few weeks at work, yet I'm not entirely sure where my days go.

Anyway, a couple of highlights.

Yesterday, one of the supervisors was worried that he had offended me. He got called to the big boss's office for something, so he walked past my office without saying hello. He stopped back by when he was finished to let me know that he was not ignoring me. I did not think my feelings were that delicate.

And last night, someone did drugs in one of the bathrooms. We don't even know what it is. Someone brought what I'm assuming is a crack pipe to the office this morning after they found it. So that's fun.

In a late breaking update, our quality manager got in a fight with a stapler. The stapler won. 

Back off

Yelling, "I'll get to you when I get to you," is never an appropriate action at work. This is my mantra for today.

Rude

I had three separate people tell me they were going to be in the 6 a.m. fire safety training. Not a single person was there.

I was here before 6 this morning. I am not a morning person. I am not pleased.

We have three more hours of safety training. I sat through all 5 one hour sessions last week. I'm going to be a very effective arsonist.

Last week, I was in before 6 a.m. every day but Monday. This week, I think it's just today, which is good. If I get too tired, I quickly lose the will to live. Not really, but I don't get pleasant.