Shortly after I arrived at the grocery store yesterday, it began hailing outside. The store has a warehouse-style roof (though it's not a warehouse grocery store). The sound of the hail on the metal roof was loud and although I knew what the sound was and could easily look out the windows to see it, apparently not many shoppers in the store knew what to make of it.
In fact, many were screaming their fear into their cell phones. "I don't know what it is." "My god, I think they are running the fans. THE FANS!" (I have no idea why running fans would be such a scary thing but this woman was literally screaming this in to her phone.)
The store seemed full of crying children terrified by their screaming parents, none of whom would look past their own noses to see that it was hailing outside and the sound was simply hail on the roof.
Good god, is this what people are becoming? Morons afraid of their own shadows?
Cross-posted over at blogeois.com
Fear is rampant where WS works. So much for telling employees to stop upsetting each other by spreading truths and rumors. That's like opening the fried peanut butter and banana sandwich snack bar after Elvis has left the building.
WS had an internal company interview the other day, one that didn't go well. He said he didn't feel he was at his best and he could tell the interviewer wasn't at her best either. She left him with an unprofessional parting shot questioning his job, his role and his title; a single, fragment of a sentence, a comment that could've easily been held in check, but so telling of how deep the fear runs in some departments over the upcoming job losses.
"Naturally, the comment ate at him for days,
completely wiping out twenty-one years of confidence building..."
And how ruthless they will be to keep their own. This interviewer, this woman, wasn't in immediate jeopardy of losing her own job but by bringing WS on board, it would ensure one of her close coworkers wouldn't be promoted. Not laid off, mind you, just not promoted. In her mind, that's one step away from being found redundant and a half step away from lay off. So she called WS to the mat and implied he wasn't what he appeared.
In my eyes, clearly, this isn't a department I'd want to have anything to do with but that's not my decision to make. We do what we have to do; we deal with what we have to deal with. I say learn from the experience and move forward. He seemed to agree but if I've learned anything over the years of living with WS, it's not that easy.
Naturally, the comment ate at him for days, completely wiping out twenty-one years of confidence building I've tried to instill in him. In his head, he's back to listening to his mother, his grandmother, his 'friends' and enemies, most of whom had him for twenty-three years before I tried to repair the damage.
This isn't the first time I've complained about him still believing everyone else but me, even after I've been proven right time after time. It won't be the last. More damage has been done to our relationship over the years on this one topic alone than anything else, creating at times and again, I say so in my opinion, a quiet, reserved yet hostile home environment.
Is it any wonder I often feel worn down?
He doesn't get it, never has, and probably never will. He doesn't see it that way. This is his comfort zone: Questioning anything he's ever been, everything he's ever done. To talk to him about it causes his eyes to glaze over faster than fresh, hot donuts on the conveyor belt at Krispy Kreme. This is just where he's chosen to live his entire life where what everyone else says is truth, anything I say is background noise.
Nothing's wrong. It's life as usual. Same ol' same ol'. It's not hail, OMG, it's THE FANS!
-- Yesterday's exercise: None.
This morning's weigh-in: 154.6.
Reading: Booklife by Jeff Vandermeer.