Tonight some friends and I got together to chat, relax and laugh. I reflected back to the experience I had when I asked our boss for a raise...
I came home and searched my computer for the following account I wrote the day I asked for "The Raise"...
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OK, I was really prepared... I had copies of all my exemplary evaluations, job descriptions, comparable job salaries, my last contract, the proposal from the Tech Dept. for new (higher) salaries for new jobs in my field, etc...
Several weeks before I had asked for an appointment with the new superintendent. The day scheduled had finally arrived. After waking up extra early, to get some last minute practice in on my dialogue, I finally got ready for work. I wore, what I think is, my prettiest blouse, worked on my hair and makeup and was ready to leave. On my way out the door, I spied a sleek, thin briefcase (one that Michael and Rachel play "Spy Kids" with - although I had no clue where they got it...) laying on the floor next to the couch. I knew I needed something a little more "business-like" (as opposed to the manila folder I had), to impress the boss. So, quickly I emptied their spy stuff and neatly put in my "documents", the ones that I was certain Mr. B would be impressed with.
The day went by fast as we were nearing 2:00 - the time Mr. B. would be seeing me eye-to-eye about my salary proposal. About 1:45, I took a quick peek in my mirror to notice a zit the size of Hawaii on my eyelid, out of all places! I started to apply my favorite shade of lipstick and stopped at the horror of a bleeding cold sore on my lower lip. Oh well... it was now time to leave. Help came to the computer lab to watch a class for me, but unfortunately by the time I made my way to the office, to use the new CheckIn/CheckOut system, it would not allow me to put my name in to check out.
Finally, I got out the door, with my smart little black briefcase filled with my "razzle dazzle" paperwork, and had to run two blocks down the street to my van. I drove as quickly as I could (without getting a ticket) to Central Office. I arrived at exactly 2:00 but still needed to park and get quickly to Mr. B's office. One last look in my rear view mirror and, well, let's just say, I was not feeling very "pretty." I ran up the street and up the front steps to Central Office - and did I mention that it was raining and very windy?! My hair was everywhere but I had no time left to stop and fix my wet, windblown hair...
Once inside, I ran, (not walked, not jogged) ran up, up those marble stairs. I made my way down the hall and Mr. B was waiting in his spacious office, sitting there cool as a cucumber, relaxed and in full control. I, on the other hand, was a wreck. I had no air in my lungs - probably on the verge of a stroke or worse, but I managed to smile and thank him for allowing me to come and talk to him. It was obvious I was struggling to breathe, so he casually mentioned that I should check out the new gym in the high school. "Sure", I told him, I was planning on that.... sure...right...
He immediately wanted to jump on the topic at hand, no other small talk, just, "Why are you here, Ruthie?"
I wanted to just sit there and try to get my breath back, but feeling the constraints of his schedule, I gasped for air as I tried to talk. All I needed now was an oxygen tank and the contents of my briefcase to begin my dissertation that I had practiced to perfection. I bent over to get my "paperwork" and smelled a gross smell, kind of like a damp basement, but stronger. Yep, it was the briefcase - and probably by now my papers smelled pretty stinky, too. I am sure Mr. B. had smelled the odor, as well. I noticed he sniffed several times with a puzzled look on his face as his eyes canvased the room.
Without air, in the stench of this briefcase, zits, cold sores, messy hair, I started to explain my case. Mr. B. immediately said that he did not want to see my papers. What? Excuse me? How could he mess up my speech with that unexpected line? With no props, I was lost. "What do you want, Ruth?" Mr. B. asked as he looked me square in the eyes.
All I could think of was, I want to breathe, and get the heck out of here! However, the words that did come out of my mouth was, "I want a raise!"
He looked at me and asked me again what I wanted. Hold on, I know I just blurted out what I wanted. OK, so I repeated what I wanted. He seemed more confused. So, for the third and final time, I repeated what I wanted - A RAISE! I saw him scribble, for a brief second, on a piece of paper... then he stood up and walked to the door.
"Hey, wait a minute here, Mr. B, I finally have air in my lungs, I am really ready to discuss this matter", I pointed out to him. But, he stood in the doorway as to tell me my time was up. No, "Thanks for coming Ruth", no, "I will think about it", no smile, no, anything. He just stood by the door. (I am pretty sure that he needed some fresh air by now.) I simply thanked him for his time and left.
I can't describe how humiliated I felt as I walked down those stupid marble steps. As I was ready to head for my van, for a quick cry, Mr. S., the new PR guy, stopped me and asked me to come in his office to talk about the new webpage. About 45 minutes later, he was finished, and I finally was on my way to my van, for that well-deserved cry. I fumbled with my stinky briefcase and to my surprise; my keys were not in it.
I slowly walked back to the PR guy's office and of course my keys were not there. I drug myself back up those marble stairs to Mr. B's office. By now he had a real customer in there. An impeccable looking businessman, with a real briefcase. I asked the secretary if she would discreetly check to see if my keys were still in the chair where I self-destructed. Not so discreetly, she yelled, "DID RUTH LEAVE HER KEYS IN HERE?! She handed me my keys...
NOW, even though I probably looked ridiculous to Mr. B., I am glad I went. Yes, you can say that I expanded my comfort zone. Yes, you can say that I learned a lot from going there. Oh, I definitely need to get more exercise. And in the future I need to leave the kids' props at home, even if they do look sleek. The good news here is this...I know that the Lord is in charge. If I am supposed to get a raise, the Lord will get it done. I did my part. The rest is up to Him. That is the way I like it.
And, I didn't even cry when I finally got to my van. I looked in the mirror and smiled.
... there will be times when all the things she said, will fill your head, you won't forget her.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Simple Sunday
It is a cold, January Sunday. Evening seems to fall too fast. There is only a sliver of sunlight slipping through a pine tree. A couple deer are standing in the field next to the house. Music* fills my mind with memories. The warmth of winter wine keeps me content.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
A Friend's Home
One of my friends, a dear, wonderfully sweet friend, called this morning and asked if I wanted to come to her place for a holiday (although a little late) get-together. There was very little “pre-planning”, just a last minute gathering. Well, this is a friend that I think very highly of. She is probably one of the nicest people you would ever meet. So, I said sure. She told me that if I would like to bring anyone to do so, “the more, the merrier!”
At 7:00 PM, Amy and I hopped in the “family car” and drove to her home. My niece, Tricia, met us there. Her home was easy to find. It is quite a grand old building, over 150 years old. We entered the back door to be greeted with a big hug from my friend.
We took a quick tour of the building. The three of us were impressed with the tall ceilings and beautiful pocket doors and wood work throughout. The Christmas tree was small but looked so cheerful with miniature lights and ornaments so delicately hung. The walls were appointed with old artwork and huge mirrors. In the “family room” was a banquet of culinary delights. I am sure it was quite some “undertaking” to prepare such a feast.
There were already several guests gathered in the “parlor”. It was a very spacious room to visit with “old” friends. We stayed about two hours but to tell you the truth, the party seemed “dead”. So, we “departed” about 9 PM and headed for home.
Did I mention that my friend works for a funeral company? And, did I mention that my friend works from home?
At 7:00 PM, Amy and I hopped in the “family car” and drove to her home. My niece, Tricia, met us there. Her home was easy to find. It is quite a grand old building, over 150 years old. We entered the back door to be greeted with a big hug from my friend.
We took a quick tour of the building. The three of us were impressed with the tall ceilings and beautiful pocket doors and wood work throughout. The Christmas tree was small but looked so cheerful with miniature lights and ornaments so delicately hung. The walls were appointed with old artwork and huge mirrors. In the “family room” was a banquet of culinary delights. I am sure it was quite some “undertaking” to prepare such a feast.
There were already several guests gathered in the “parlor”. It was a very spacious room to visit with “old” friends. We stayed about two hours but to tell you the truth, the party seemed “dead”. So, we “departed” about 9 PM and headed for home.
Did I mention that my friend works for a funeral company? And, did I mention that my friend works from home?
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Starbucks
I used to make fun of the pretentious yuppies that frequented Starbucks. To me, Starbucks was a modern place for “beatniks” to hang out and socialize. That was until a couple friends of mine invited me to join them one day after school.
I walked into Starbucks and took a good look around – yep, it looked like a hangout for misfits. The walls had a lot of weird pictures (“artists” of the week I supposed). The drink maker, oh yeah, called the “barista”, had spiked burgundy hair and mismatched clothing.
There we stood in line to order our drinks. No one warned me, you don’t just order a coffee; you have to learn a new language to order. I had no clue what was what. It was embarrassing trying to make sense of all too many choices; short, tall, Grande, Venti, iced, hot, single, double, Frappuccino, Macchiato, latte, light, whipped, skinny, etc. I even heard some patrons have the audacity to order their drink at a specified temperature! I gave up without a fight and had my friend order for me.
Another warning someone should have given me, once you order your drink, be alert. People will grab any random drink that is shouted out. Again, stay alert, because more than 1 person may have the same drink as you. Or, they may be like me, and not know what the heck they really ordered!
Another quick glance around the room and I spied a big, comfy looking chair. Ah, I felt comfortable in Starbuck’s at last. Then, conversation flowed between my friends and I. Two hours had flown by. It was nice to just sit and talk.
Well, I have been joining these ladies at Starbucks for about a year now. I am getting a little better about ordering - how about a Grande with Whip Mocha Frappuccino Light Blended Coffee for here? Honestly, I still don’t know what I am getting until the barista pushes the drink towards me.
The truth is that I am not there for the fancy drinks, nor the artistic expressions on the walls, but for me it is more about socializing with friends, relaxing and enjoying an Iced Venti Tazo® Shaken Iced Black Tea Lemonade sweetened with Splenda!
BTW, you don’t have to wear bongos, berets or dark glasses. Although I have been known to hear some poetry at Starbucks!
I walked into Starbucks and took a good look around – yep, it looked like a hangout for misfits. The walls had a lot of weird pictures (“artists” of the week I supposed). The drink maker, oh yeah, called the “barista”, had spiked burgundy hair and mismatched clothing.
There we stood in line to order our drinks. No one warned me, you don’t just order a coffee; you have to learn a new language to order. I had no clue what was what. It was embarrassing trying to make sense of all too many choices; short, tall, Grande, Venti, iced, hot, single, double, Frappuccino, Macchiato, latte, light, whipped, skinny, etc. I even heard some patrons have the audacity to order their drink at a specified temperature! I gave up without a fight and had my friend order for me.
Another warning someone should have given me, once you order your drink, be alert. People will grab any random drink that is shouted out. Again, stay alert, because more than 1 person may have the same drink as you. Or, they may be like me, and not know what the heck they really ordered!
Another quick glance around the room and I spied a big, comfy looking chair. Ah, I felt comfortable in Starbuck’s at last. Then, conversation flowed between my friends and I. Two hours had flown by. It was nice to just sit and talk.
Well, I have been joining these ladies at Starbucks for about a year now. I am getting a little better about ordering - how about a Grande with Whip Mocha Frappuccino Light Blended Coffee for here? Honestly, I still don’t know what I am getting until the barista pushes the drink towards me.
The truth is that I am not there for the fancy drinks, nor the artistic expressions on the walls, but for me it is more about socializing with friends, relaxing and enjoying an Iced Venti Tazo® Shaken Iced Black Tea Lemonade sweetened with Splenda!
BTW, you don’t have to wear bongos, berets or dark glasses. Although I have been known to hear some poetry at Starbucks!
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