Life is Like a Scary Movie

I’ve been talking with a few different people lately noticing similarities between their lives and mine. Besides us all being cute and fun and adorable people (insert winky emoticon here), we have all dealt with or are dealing with fear.

Most of what we are afraid of is the unknown. I heard a saying many years back that said, “85% of what we fear, never comes true.” Yea, yea, there’s that 15% left, you say. But, most of us wouldn’t bank too much on odds of only 15%. Eighty-five is a much bigger number to think about.

What do we worry about? Jobs and financial stability or lack thereof is at the top of the list. Many people aren’t making ends meet. And that is among friends who have shared with me that they make 20k a year, 75k or even 100k. Everyone’s life and life style is different. I’m not judging anyone on what they make or how they spend their money. We all have different needs and wants.

Then, there’s the knowing that you’ll be moving out or going out on your own and then trying to survive on your one income. Whether you’re leaving your parents’ house for the first time or leaving a marriage, it’s all the same. That’s scary stuff. Do you get a new job? Add a part-time job to the mix? Get creative with your art or writing or jewelry making and sell that? What do you do? All those things take initiative. There’s that first step. That first step can be scary. Really scary. What if you fall? What if you fail? Are you worse off than when you started though? So much to think about.

And what about relationships? I know people who are afraid of being alone all their lives. They get their monies worth out of dating from Match.com, that’s for sure. Are we better off dating lots and lots of people every single week until we find that absolutely perfect match? Is there really such a thing as a perfect match? How do you know when something really good may be in your life but you question if there is still something better? Do you lose out on that good thing by going out and looking?

How do you know if you are settling? Are you settling if you meet someone who is pretty darned compatible though they may be so unlike anyone you’ve been with before? What if you find yourself in a comfortable relationship now but you’ve had so many relationships that haven’t worked out? How do you know this one will last? How do you know it won’t? Do you fear taking the next step with this person and going head on into something that could be really positive because of how your past has been? This person is different than what you’ve known. You are different. Life changes us. It changes all of us. That’s a scary thought right there. I always hope it changes us for the better though and doesn’t really taint us or tarnish us too badly.

What about the relationships that we get into and we are fearful of getting out of? Even the relationships that we know are just plain bad for us? The relationships with the people who take and take from us and don’t give back? The ones who actually physically or mentally or emotionally abuse us? The relationships with the ones who drink excessively or cheat over and over again? The ones who use us? We usually stay in those situations because it’s so familiar to us. Fear holds us there. Fear of leaving. Fear of change. I was in a bad relationship like that before. For way too long. Years too long. I know getting out of it was the best thing I could have ever done. There was a heaviness there that I didn’t even realize was there until I was away from it. A weight was lifted almost instantly when I was finally in my own place. I will never get into a situation like that again. I know that I broke that fear once I left. The leaving a bad situation will never be a problem for me. Actually just knowing what I learned from that will keep me from getting into the same situation (I sure as heck hope so).

So, how do we know what is good for us? How do we know when to be afraid? When is something bad going to happen? When is the creepy critter going to jump out and scare the crap out of us in life? We don’t know. Things happen all the time. Bad things happen often. Accidents happen. People get sick. People die. Relationships end. Jobs disappear. Bank accounts get sucked dry. But, you know what? Good things happen too.

Good things happen every day. I choose to find something good in my life every single day. Many things actually. Today, I woke up beside a beautiful woman. We saw one of the most amazing sunrises of our lives as we left for work. I walked the beach this evening. And there I saw an amazing evening sky. I talked with a friend on the phone who offered to give me free passes to ride the train to and from Boston if I’d like. I got a refund check from my car insurance company in the mail. I came home to my house lit up all Christmas-y. I have wonderful people in my life. I may not be rich, but I’m appreciative of what I do have and I feel very abundant.

There are no guarantees in life. Things can jump out of the bog and pull you under at any moment. Scary stuff happens all the time. You can either keep running down the center of the road knowing that the fearful thing is right behind you (don’t you always wonder why people do that in the movies? As loud as I yell at them, they keep doing it) or you can duck off to the side, grab a weapon and slam that fear in the face. You can keep your scary movie if you’d like, but I prefer my new adventure flick with a little romance and comedy mixed in there. And, a big bucket of popcorn on the side.

@Ybbeige

http://www.barbarabeige.com/
http://facebook.com/barbarabeige

Don’t Like Your Job? It’s Okay. You'll Probably Die at 9:00 am on Monday Anyway

We’ve all heard about the risks of heart disease. There are some that you can’t control: being male, being older (though that’s relative to me) and family history. Some factors you can control are: smoking, high “bad” cholesterol, high blood pressure, physical inactivity, obesity, stress. And, other factors according to my new friend, Deepak Chopra, MD, are lack of self-happiness and job dissatisfaction.

Deepak says that in our culture, more people die at 9:00 am on Monday mornings than at another other time. Coincidence? We think not. We are the only species that distinguishes days of the week. The only ones who care about what time it is. The only ones who dread going back to work on Monday mornings.

Some of us can say our jobs are rewarding. Some of us can’t. Some of us can say that we don’t get paid nearly enough for what we do. Most of us can probably say that. Some of us have terrible coworkers. Some of us have coworkers who are great friends. Some of us are under constant pressure, stress and deadlines from the moment we walk in the door. Some of us have to take our work home.

Nothing like being able to work in jeans and sexy boots.

I know, personally, that I’ve had very few jobs that fit into the high job satisfaction category. The ones that do are the ones where I worked for myself. When I wasn’t micro-managed. Or, psycho-managed. Is that a real term? Gosh, I hope I just coined that. That is beyond true.

One of my worst jobs ever lasted 2-1/2 months. I was fairly fresh out of college. I was told that the executive assistant position would open up to design possibilities. The job that I really wanted back then. Heck, I was young. I figured I’d work for the owner of this company. Learn the ropes of this family-owned business. See what the other designers were doing and also learn from them. Then I could work my way into my desired role. What I found, though, was that it was the job from hell. That should actually be in all caps. THE JOB FROM HELL.

Have you ever ridden up or down in a tiny elevator with a woman who farted the entire way. Every time. Let me repeat that. Every. Time. It was as if the vertical movement released the gas in her body. It wasn’t silent and it certainly wasn’t without smell. I quickly learned to make an excuse as to why I needed to delay the torturous altitudinal departure with her. I was in awesome shape running the possible ten flights of stairs top to bottom to be able to catch up with her.

I was told we were too busy to eat while she stuffed Jenny Craig couscous meals into her mouth everyday and spit half of it out while yelling that at me. We were never that busy. I threatened to quit if I didn’t get lunch. I got a raise. And lunch.

I was asked to cut the tags off the mattresses. You know the ones that say, “Do not remove without penalty of law?” Yea. Those. I refused to do that too. She didn’t want the customers to be able to comparison shop. Messed up, huh? I said I’d quit if I had to do that. I got a raise. And, I never cut a single tag.

I was told not to help the people that came in if they didn’t look well-to-do. I was asked by nearly every customer to help me sneak them in so they could look at things without the owner knowing. I got a lot of thank you’s from them and I got to help them make design choices. The one day I didn’t help someone right away who looked like a grubby bum, I got yelled at. How did I know he was a premiere chef in the city? He looked like a grubby bum I told her. I did sell him a $900 crystal something. I got a raise. And, I never judged anyone after that.

I had to find phone numbers for the owner. Always last minute. Always in a foot high pile of torn corners with chicken scratch (read: totally illegible) on them. The owner would be screaming at me in a feverish pitch that she needed the number. NOW! I’d go ask the quiet women hiding in accounting for the number. When I suggested taking the pile of scraps and at least writing them in a book (the ones I could vaguely make out), I was told that her system worked fine. She actually screamed that. I told her I couldn’t work with her screaming at me when she needed a number. I got a raise. One day the pile “disappeared.”

I had to take memos. As any executive assistant should. But, did I mention that I had to stand across from her desk when I did? And, did I mention that she was an odd pear-shaped woman in her 60s? Who would wear Go-Go dancer-type, tight-knit dresses that were way too short? And, did I mention that she’d sit with her legs spread open? Without underwear? None. Nada. I thought my eyes were going to burn out of my head. That wasn’t even what a lady should look like down there. How I ended up being a lesbian after that experience, I’ll never know. I’d get screamed at to look at her while she was talking to me. I told her I didn’t deserve to be screamed at. I got a raise. And, I learned to hold my clipboard at just the right angle that kept my vision intact.

Did I mention that she was incontinent and peed on my office chair several times? And, on the furniture on display? Yea. Not good. Did I mention that I was the 13^th executive assistant in 8 months? Did I mention that I got locked in The Silence of the Lambs basement? In the dark?

Her husband was a wonderful guy who obviously married her for her money. When he had his stroke, he was stuck there. He received OT and PT in his office. He’d have me drive him home when he got so tired he couldn’t keep his head off his desk. I’d load him up in their giant, white pimp Cadillac and get him comfortable on the couch. Then, I’d get a call from HER yelling at me to bring him back. I’d apologize to him and he’d understand and we’d drive back.

The best two weeks of that job were when she and her poor husband went to Florida. The two daughters, who owned 49% of the company, came in and we redid the five floors. Something that hadn’t been done in thirty plus years. I got to design. I got to create. My opinion was valued. Lunch was brought in for us every day. I got screamed at when the owned returned for letting them do that. I said they were better off and that sales would improve by bringing in new clientele. I was told that she was disappointed. That she wanted to give me her 51% of the business. Now she wasn’t sure. She was psycho. I quit. My pay had just about doubled but it wasn’t worth the stress or the tears everyday I shed when I got home.

So, no matter what job I’ve had since then, it just can’t be as bad as that. Maybe now I do have a screwed up vision of what a good job should entail? It has made every job since then seem like fluffy bunnies and rainbows. Even though my Monday mornings haven’t been perfect, at least they no longer entail illegal activity or scary wooha. How about you? Let’s talk Monday at 9:30 am. Maybe.

Please share your jobs from hell!


Please visit my facebook page at http://facebook.com/barbarabeige and "like" and comment. Thanks!

http://www.barbarabeige.com/
@Ybbeige