Back to work tomorrow.  Apart from the ulcer thing, it’s been great.  I’ve really enjoyed just having a week of leisure.  Not that I haven’t done stuff, we both have, but it’s been at our own pace.  Bliss.

At least work will be interesting to go back to.  I got a phone call earlier this week, asking if I’d be okay to fly to a regional area on Monday to sort an issue out.  Of course that was fine.  I’m being flown there and back in the one day, so it’s not an overnight stay.  This is reasonable, as I’m being flown up for the sole purpose of one meeting.  The manager didn’t feel he could handle the situation, so he’s paying for me to go there.  Intrastate flights in WA are incredibly expensive, so for the purpose of attending a single meeting, the manager will be shelling out around $1500 to get me there and back.  I’ve been briefed on the situation, and at this stage I’m wondering why the manager can’t deal with it and is prepared to fly me there.  There must be something that hasn’t been passed on to me.  I guess I’ll find out tomorrow morning when I’m picked up at the airport.  I better go practice my impassive face.

In other news, my friend M (L’s sister) had a baby girl, Z, on Friday morning (the 18th).  Awwww   Emergency caeserian, but both are well now.  I haven’t been in to see them as I thought I’d give M a bit of time to get used to motherhood.  I suspect she’ll need more than a few days, but hey, I shouldn’t assume.  I certainly can’t talk, my mothering instincts probably are limited to eating my young if I’m malnourished after the birth.

As you may have guessed from recent posts, I deal with issues that arise at my work.  Fixing problems, resolving grievances, whatever you want to call it.  I guess I’m Ms Fixit, which is fine by me.

Contrary to what you may think, I actually do enjoy my job.  I get asked a lot, ‘How on earth can you do this job all day?!’  There are two answers to this.  I usually give the first, as it’s more friendly:

1. If somebody comes to me with a problem, it’s not just me listening to you about the problem; I have the authority (most of the time) to go ahead and do whatever is needful to fix it for you.  Therefore, I’m not just a listener; I can actually change things for the better.  This makes people happy (or at least, happier than they were).

Nice response, isn’t it? Friendly.  I am here to fix YOUR problems, oh yes.  Ms Fixit, that’s me.

Answer number 2 is less customer-focused, but it’s also the truth:

2.  Listening to your problems makes mine look like peanuts in comparison.  Sure, I have a debilitating mental illness that will probably be chronic, and a mother who is less than perfect.  But I’m not crying over a thoughtless Secret Santa gift.  This job reminds me again and again that I do have a sense of humour, and perhaps more importantly, a sense of perspective.  I also get fairly continual reinforcement that my social skills are reasonably okay.  Of course, this could be something to do with the issues that people bring to me to sort out, and that these people typically have the socialisation of a dandruff-covered rodent.

I am genuinely concerned about people’s welfare.  Even the most trivial of issues means something to the person who brought it to me, otherwise they wouldn’t have bothered.  But I also get plenty of laughs from it, and a healthy sense of what really matters.

Lots has been going on.  Most importantly, my friend L and her husband had a baby boy last Monday!  I didn’t find out until Thursday morning, when L’s sister M sent me an email with some pictures.  L had an emergency caesarian, but apparently it went okay.  The baby is adorable, at least according to the pictures.  I wanted to go and visit, but L’s having problems with breastfeeding, so I said I’d wait until things have settled down a bit.

I managed to have a minor prang on the weekend.  Long story short, I backed into SO’s dad’s trailer.  Yay me.  I spent the rest of the afternoon alternately crying and sleeping.  Hey, crying is tiring.  Fortunately SO assures me he still loves me.  There isn’t any damage to the trailer, and the car is still relatively okay (and definitely fine to drive) which is good.  It definitely put a blight on the weekend though.

In work news, I had somebody come to see me today to complain about a senior manager taking credit for their work.  They have the sent email and everything, which had their own work attached to it.  The doc that went up to the head of the organisation had someone else’s name on it, and that’s the version on file.  This person is really upset, needless to say.  What I can do about it, I don’t know.

It’s not often that I talk about work.  This is for a number of reasons.  Firstly, I work for an organisation which would have a conniption if it was discovered I outlined my work life on the internet.  Second, as the person who deals with internal complaints, the majority of my stuff is highly confidential.  Thirdly, if I ever decide to murder my boss and hide the evidence, I don’t want this blog contradicting my version of events.

Today, however, deserves a post.  Today was incredibly full on, and incredibly dispiriting.

I had training.  Not training I was participating in; this is training I developed specifically for the organisation, and am in the process of delivering to all 1,300 employees, including regional staff.  I wasn’t delivering it today, but I was supervising my junior colleague while she delivered it.  I also got to answer the tough questions, which was fine, and that was one of the reasons I was there.  However I’ve always found training incredibly tiring, I think because I’m your standard introvert type, and today was no different, even though I wasn’t actually doing the delivery myself.

In addition, I had two meetings which bookended the training – one was an hour long, the other an hour and a half.  There were tears, threats, swearing, you name it.  At one point one person looked at me and asked tearfully, ‘Will I lose my job over this?’  No, no you won’t.  The last person who got sacked from my organisation had a criminal conviction for drugs.  Not possession, though.  Dealing.  So no, you’re not going to lose your job.

Following this, I went back to my office, only to hear that my boss is considering releasing names of people who’ve raised complaints in the last year to the senior management team.  Ummm……I can’t think of a single reason why this would need to happen.  Breach of confidentiality, anybody?  Unfortunately, witchhunts aren’t limited to happening in Salem in the 17th century.  They occur daily in corporate Australia, I can assure you.  And that’s without the benefit of knowing the names of people who’ve raised grievances.  I’ve always known my boss has the moral compass of a decomposing dog turd, but this really takes the cake.

Sometimes I hate the organisation I work for.  Today is one of those days.  And I suspect that tomorrow will be another one.

Thank god for Buspar™, that’s all I can say.

Well, this sucks.

I’ve been doing okay with the med changes.  Some physical stuff, the nausea, the visual stuff, but okay.  However both last night and today, some of the emotional/mood stuff is rearing its head.  I’m getting vaguer, not remembering words for common things, and I have the horrible knotted stomach thing happening again.  And no matter what I do, I can’t relax it.  It really is a physical symptom, but I know it’s a manifestation of anxiety, which is a mood thing.  Ugh.  It sucks.

So I’m not at work today.  Great, my boss must be delighted.  I hate letting her down, she’s so fantastic to work for, and just a great person.  So yes, the self-esteem isn’t the best either.

On another note, we were sitting at the dining table this morning when I noticed a baby magpie in our backyard.  I could tell he was a baby as his black feathers are still grey.  He was wandering around, and not doing much flying (another indicator he’s only young).  Anyhow, when SO and I went outside, he ran over to us.  SO groaned – ‘God, he’s tame.  That doesn’t bode well for his long term survival!’  The dopey bugger was looking for some food, or some attention I guess.  Anyhow, I watered the front garden, and when I came back he was still waiting.  I had a chat with him while he looked at me hopefully, but I didn’t feed him.

He’s still out there, sitting on the washing line.  I think I’ll call him Dopey.

The title refers to yesterday’s post title.  I think I’m waving, at this stage.

Today I made an appointment to see my psychiatrist, which is (very fortunately for me) tomorrow afternoon.  Thank the gods for whoever cancelled their appointment.  I’m not looking forward to seeing him.  The last appointment I had, he basically said if my current dose (40mg lexapro) didn’t fix it all for me, that I’d need to try something else.  This, of course, means tapering off a (relatively) effective drug, and tapering onto something that may or may not work.  Fun times.

Luckily, today was so busy that I didn’t have any time to dwell on this.  Unfortunately, I spent all of it either dealing with the suicidal manager situation, or the potentially ‘going postal’ psychotic employee.  At least the day went quickly I guess!

So yes, another day survived.  I did something which was therapeutic when I got home, though.  I got into my daggy trackie pants and weeded the front garden bed for about an hour and a half.  I felt great at the end of it.  However the high had worn off by the time I had my shower and a big drink of water, so it’s not a permanent fix; but at least I felt good for that ninety minutes.  It was nice to have that tight fist of anxiety in the pit of my stomach relax for a while.  It’s back now, but I had a break from it, which was good.  I may have to garden every night after work, as a stress relieving tactic, weather permitting.

I was inspired by this post, by the lovely Lola, to write about my own job.

I also work for a government department, which consists primarily of white male paramilitary activity.  I’d love to own up to the actual department, but it wouldn’t be advisable for my job health.  Anyhow, within this department, I officially resolve interpersonal issues.  Bullying, harassment, discrimination, victimisation, the whole bit.  In reality, most of my ‘clients’ come to me with interpersonal issues that don’t fall into any of these categories.  Typically, we’re talking personality clashes.

My role in all of this is to listen to both parties, try to resolve the issue/s informally through various means like mediation, etc, and if necessary, conduct formal investigations.  In order to actually get any resolution, I need to be able to correctly read highly stressed situations, and be able to respond in a way that will help achieve resolution.  I need the patience of Job, the observation skills of Patrick Jane, and the counselling skills of a clin psych, together with the ability to represent the organisation in a good light, even when its actions could be considered blatantly negligent. 

As a result of the confidentiality of my role, my knowledge of the organisation, and my friendship with the company’s psychologist, I’m often put in delicate situations.  For example, in the last week, I’ve had to inform senior management that a middle manager isn’t just performing badly at work; she’s actually suicidal.  I also went to a straightforward meeting about a grievance between two coworkers, only to realise that the respondent (the person who the complaint is about) has a serious mental illness that needs to be addressed.  There are all kinds of issues at stake here, for the individuals and the organisation – occupational health and safety, duty of care, concerns over the individuals themselves, and what industrial ability we have in these situations.  All of this stuff needs to be analysed by me, then presented to senior managers, together with a solution that is practical and able to be implemented, while maintaining confidentiality.

The work is fulfilling, draining, and exhausting.  I love helping people resolve issues, and watching managers as  they learn how to resolve issues themselves (with some guidance from me).  The stresses involved, however, are huge.  For example, the suicidal manager’s boss is tiptoing around dealing with the issue, despite the severity.  The boss think’s he’s giving her some space.  I’ve explained that he needs to sit down with the manager and talk to her about her illness affecting her work, but he’s too scared to make a wrong move.  Dealing with management over sensitive issues like this requires a very delicate touch.  I’ve discovered senior managers don’t like being presented with situations they don’t know how to control.

Anyhow, that’s my job.  At least every day is different.

It already feels like a Friday, and it’s not even the middle of the week yet.

Both SO and I have been out of town.  SO went to a large country town for work, and I went to a small country town for the same reason.  He was lucky and got a flight; I drove.  The trip took me a fair bit longer than expected – I thought it was going to take two and a bit hours, and it actually took closer to three and a half.  (I wasn’t exactly restraining myself to the speed limit, either.)  Anyhow, I was there for an investigation, so I went straight to my first couple of interviews, which probably took about an hour and a half.  Afterwards, I booked into the hotel, called SO to let him know I was okay (and didn’t have mobile reception - thank God public phones do still exist, in regional areas, if nowhere else) and did the last interview.  I was completely knackered after all this, so I crashed for a good nap of about three hours or so.

I managed to wake up just before my alarm, so I threw on some clothes and decided to get a meal.  The hotel has both a front bar and a restaurant, which are connected, so I decided I’d go into the bar first, and if it looked okay I’d eat there.  If not, there was always the restaurant.  Anyhow, I walked into the bar through the side entrance, and it was like a scene from a movie.  Specifically, Deliverance.  All the guys in the bar turned and looked at me with deep suspicion.  Even the boys cheering on the sport on the wide screen stared at me like I was visiting from outer space.  I swear I could hear what they were thinking: ‘She ain’t from ’round these parts’.  It probably didn’t help that they all looked like they were from the same family, either.  (Okay, maybe I’m stereotyping here, but not by much.)

Picking up on the vibe, I decided to eat in the restaurant.  I thought I’d spoil myself, so I ordered the grilled crayfish (lobster).  After an hour (!) it came out of the kitchen, overcooked to within an inch of its (former) life.  It also had a distinct tang to it.  I was eating it and thinking, that’s all I need – a case of food poisoning in a little country town.  Yuck.  Still, it was edible, and it was relatively inexpensive.  I love crayfish, so even though it wasn’t the best I’d eaten, it tasted pretty okay.  And the good news was, I didn’t get food poisoning, so that was a bonus.

I woke up at 7:30am this morning, got ready, and checked out.  I went to visit the local shops, where I found the town bakery.  The food looked great, so I picked up some breakfast (a custard tart – yum!) and a large iced coffee, and I started on my way back to Perth. 

I remembered to get the car washed on the way back (I took a work one) and even filled up with fuel.  I went past home on the way and unloaded everything, then went into work.  By this point I had a splitting headache – I think it was the light glare shining off the roads for hours on end – so SO took me home, whereupon I crashed again.

It feels like the last couple of days have been very long ones.  Interviewing people is hard work – it demands your full concentration and really sucks your energy levels.  Plus, the driving was tiring.  However, I did enjoy the trip, I liked the autonomy, and it was very interesting.  Also, I’d never been to this particular town before, so that was good too, not that I had much of a chance to look around.  I missed SO, too - it was the first time in the five years we’ve been together that we didn’t talk to each other for more than a day.  (I had got his message bank when I rang him, so we didn’t have a conversation.)  Altogether, it’s good to be back home.

Warning: this post contains discussion of menstrual issues.  Feel free to pass.

Sigh.  I can see it’s going to be one of those weeks.

I’ve been horribly premenstrual for the last few days, and it came to a head last night.  I was in an evil mood.  Realising this, I decided to say as little as possible (having been there before, I know I tend to be beyond horrible whenever I speak when I’m like this) in order to spare SO from some of the pain.  Unfortunately he saw I wasn’t talking much and asked if anything was wrong.  This, of course, gave me the perfect excuse to snarl, ‘No, everything is fucking fantastic!!‘.  The scene ended up with me in tears and SO with the look of a rabbit caught in a car’s headlights.  Not the best evening for either of us.  I apologised profusely and went to bed early, as I couldn’t stand myself any longer.

Cut to this morning.  I woke up with the kind of cramps that make you wonder if something is actually disembowelling you.  When I worked out this wasn’t the case, I realised that work was not on the cards.  SO very kindly got me a hot water bottle, a glass of milk and a panadeine forte, which helped to zonk me out until about midday.  I’m not feeling the best tonight, but my mood is substantially improved, for which my poor long-suffering husband is grateful.

The only thing I can put all this down to is the problems we’re still having with the unit we’re buying.  Settlement has been delayed a week, and we think the bank have lost our loan application documents for the second time.  It’s getting beyond ridiculous.  To be honest, because it’s been such a drawn out process (we put in our offer in March!), I’ve lost interest.  Still, final pre-settlement inspection is this Friday, so hopefully I’ll get excited again when I see it.

Wow, Wednesday night already! 

The weekend was good.  We had a wedding on Sunday, which resulted in us taking public transport home, and much stumbling on my part.  I blame that tenth champagne.  Monday (which was a public holiday) was spent in bed, feeling like I’d been kicked in the stomach by a donkey.  Otherwise, no harm done.

Some fantastic news – my friend M confessed that she’s eight weeks pregnant.  She actually told me at the reception, when I picked she wasn’t drinking.  After what happened last year, I’m just over the moon.  And as M said, she and her sister L will be having their babies at the same time, which will be a great support for both of them.  So that was an extra reason to celebrate.

This week has been beyond busy.  I’m doing my Certificate IV in Workplace Training and Assessment, which will enable me to formally deliver registered training packages.  It’s dry, fairly boring, and a lot of work.  Bad combination.  We have to do a 15 minute talk on Friday.  Basically we have to teach the group something.  I wouldn’t say I’m dreading it, but certainly I’m not looking forward to it.  Plus, I haven’t started actually preparing it yet.  I suspect I’m going to be doing a rush job tomorrow night.