Monday, May 10, 2010

Relating to Harry Potter Just a Little Too Much....

Today, being Monday, began as Mondays often do: never as smoothly as you hope. For me, I woke up to a frigid room having left my windows open last night without realizing how cold it was going to get.

When I got to work, there was only one other person in the office which was not unusual. Most days, my coworker beats me there but on occasional days, I get there first.

I admit, I was still fuming a little from my day on Friday on which, once again, I discovered that I remained the Harry Potter of our department- metaphorically shoved into the 'cupboard under the stairs' while my coworker- the equivalent of Harry's cousin, Dudley- is showered with praise, given the same Mac computer as everyone around her and constantly included in everything.

I'm not bitter. Well, I'm trying not to be, at least. I keep trying to remind myself of my mantra: "It's just a job." I have two lovely, sweet puppies waiting for me each night at home. I have a home of my own. I can come home each night to work in the garden and try to make it move from something into nothing. Tonight, I planted a lot of plants since it's supposed to rain all week. My mother, a master gardener, kindly donated shrubs and flowers to my empty, somewhat weedy flowerbeds. I tried to plant them wisely; time will tell if I really did so or not.

Anyway, today, when I got to the office, I tried very hard to get over my frustration and bitterness before my coworker and my boss came in. I like my boss, I really do. He's a nice man but, well, honestly, as I've stated before...he hasn't a clue what to do with me. He doesn't like to make decisions and he doesn't like to be responsible for anything. Me...well, I'm a quite, um, bossy Monkeypants. I tend to get impatient at people who can't make decisions regardless of their rank.

I actually ended up doing...ok. I didn't throw anything at "cousin Dudley"'s head. I didn't end up throwing my pencil cup at my boss. I call that a success.

Then I glanced upwards. I noticed on the ceiling above the cubicle that shares a wall with mine, there was a rather large, rather unpleasant looking bug. Upon further inspection, it was over an inch long and it was a cockroach.

Now, I've seen cockroaches. I lived in L.A. for almost 9 years. It's hard not to see cockroaches. It's just...I didn't expect to see one in our office, nor one quite that big...nor one quite in danger of crawling a few feet and dropping on my head.

I have a vivid imagination. The idea of a cockroach falling on my head made me envision revolting, nasty outcomes.

I knew that I could have captured the bug myself. I just didn't want to do so. I mean, it's a nasty, disgusting cockroach, it might have had family.

So I did the sane thing: I told our receptionist who promptly called our maintenance man to come and dispose of the bug. I felt bad about that. I'm usually an independent Monkeypants. I usually take care of things like that myself. After all, when you try to weed your garden, there's any number of creepy-crawly, bug-like substances you unearth. I'm not that squeamish.

But, well, I just felt like it was the workplace. We have strict code about following procedure. So I followed it. The maintanance man came and quickly squelched the critter while mumbling under his breath. I don't blame him. It was a little...silly. I could have smacked the ceiling with a broom like he did. Except, well, I don't have a broom at work like he does.

I admit though that when the bug had gone, I felt better. I could stop imagine it falling on my head. I know that it probably wasn't likely but my imagination begged to differ otherwise.

The rest of the day passed. Once again, I was ignored in favour of my cousin 'Dudley' at work, even though, technically, I know just as much as she does and, also, I tend to do a bit more work because I don't feel the same need as she does to spend countless hours wandering around the building trying to find someone with whom to chat.

I sound bitter. I probably am, just a little. I'm just a little fed up of doing a lot of working and gaining exactly...nothing.

But that's a lie. I do gain something. I gain a paycheck. I gain the ability to list my job on my resume. These days, that does mean something, even if the psychological drama of it all sometimes makes it a little difficult to deal with.

In the end, it comes down to the fact that I have to accept that I'm a Harry Potter in a society of muggles. There are far worse things...I just wish I could get that darn accio spell to work.

Happy Tuesday!

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