dragonlady7 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragonlady7) wrote2011-03-10 10:32 am
dragonlady7) wrote2011-03-10 10:32 am
dear boss
Yesterday we were discussing an employee who left when he moved out of town, but is moving back to town and sort of wants his job back. I said, rather perkily, that we certainly could use another person around to help pick up slack-- at the moment it's kind of a disaster whenever anybody has a sick day or wants a day off or, like currently, has a relative die and has to subject us all to the massive inconvenience of a day off for, like, the funeral. God, the nerve.
The boss, very grumpily, shot me down and said we were "overstaffed" as it was and certainly didn't need someone else, and he was going to have to shift all sorts of things around to make room. I pointed out that Internet Guy wants a vacation in May and I'll have to cover him, 45 hours that week, which leaves my normal 40 uncovered. Boss rolled his eyes and said it would be no problem to cover for me, we didn't need anyone else, we were all being silly.
(He's been saying this for approximately 12 months, through the absolute disaster of me wanting time off in the summer, and the total crisis of the holiday season where we had two employees covering shifts with sales figures well over three times a normal shift that's normally worked by three. Customers, waiting, turned around and left, kind of situation, and getting shouted at for not having photofinishing orders done, etc.)
Fine, I conceded.
Then I spent last night freaking out (it was a detached freakout; really I feel okayish, if resigned, but there's just this constant undercurrent of not-really-ok-- I'm not taking it quite so personally and now it feels almost external, so moment-to-moment I'm fine. We'll see how that holds up as a coping mechanism) and woke up this morning dizzy and nauseated and eye-jumpy. Oh. Migraine? Not sure. I have weird ocular-migraine-ish symptoms in odd clusters, though usually my triggers are physical stresses not emotional ones. (Derby monkey-rolls, where you throw your whole body at the ground at speed, roll over, and keep going-- I can do two. Three or more, as in a drill, gives me an ocular migraine within half an hour. Every time!) I have been rather unusually emotionally stressed, though, so there's a first time for everything.
And my boss is guilt-tripping me for calling in. Because there's no one to cover my shift.
I can't wind up enough force, dizzy as I am, to scream I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO hard enough.
So I'm just going to write it here, and then go back to cleaning my house. On the grounds that if it makes me feel better to move around, good. If it doesn't, then at least my house will be clean and I'll feel emotionally better.
If I have to stop to throw up, though, that's it-- hot ginger tea and honey and fanfiction on the couch for the rest of the day. (Actually, sewing blogs-- I haven't read any fanfic, porny or otherwise, in months! But I'm addicted to sewing blogs. Mostly the tutorials-- I could do without the chirpy tone and amusing anecdotes, for the most part, though I don't mind them-- I just want to know how to do stuff.)
I also have a fierce yen to sit and make hand-embroidered whimsical catnip mice from the black felt I just unearthed from a pile of coats last night. (That's where I put it! Christ, I looked there three times.)
But I most certainly am not going to feel bad about calling in. I've tormented myself with guilt for two hours already, but on reflection, I fucking told him so, and I'm not going to get into a car accident because I'm an idiot driving with an ocular migraine. (I get blind patches along with the visual jumping. It's the darnedest thing. Also runs in the family. I think. I probably should see a doctor about those too. I meant to, five years ago, when they started after I got a concussion. Er, I think, I didn't see a doctor about that one either. Um, notice a theme of me not being very good at doctors.)
The boss, very grumpily, shot me down and said we were "overstaffed" as it was and certainly didn't need someone else, and he was going to have to shift all sorts of things around to make room. I pointed out that Internet Guy wants a vacation in May and I'll have to cover him, 45 hours that week, which leaves my normal 40 uncovered. Boss rolled his eyes and said it would be no problem to cover for me, we didn't need anyone else, we were all being silly.
(He's been saying this for approximately 12 months, through the absolute disaster of me wanting time off in the summer, and the total crisis of the holiday season where we had two employees covering shifts with sales figures well over three times a normal shift that's normally worked by three. Customers, waiting, turned around and left, kind of situation, and getting shouted at for not having photofinishing orders done, etc.)
Fine, I conceded.
Then I spent last night freaking out (it was a detached freakout; really I feel okayish, if resigned, but there's just this constant undercurrent of not-really-ok-- I'm not taking it quite so personally and now it feels almost external, so moment-to-moment I'm fine. We'll see how that holds up as a coping mechanism) and woke up this morning dizzy and nauseated and eye-jumpy. Oh. Migraine? Not sure. I have weird ocular-migraine-ish symptoms in odd clusters, though usually my triggers are physical stresses not emotional ones. (Derby monkey-rolls, where you throw your whole body at the ground at speed, roll over, and keep going-- I can do two. Three or more, as in a drill, gives me an ocular migraine within half an hour. Every time!) I have been rather unusually emotionally stressed, though, so there's a first time for everything.
And my boss is guilt-tripping me for calling in. Because there's no one to cover my shift.
I can't wind up enough force, dizzy as I am, to scream I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO hard enough.
So I'm just going to write it here, and then go back to cleaning my house. On the grounds that if it makes me feel better to move around, good. If it doesn't, then at least my house will be clean and I'll feel emotionally better.
If I have to stop to throw up, though, that's it-- hot ginger tea and honey and fanfiction on the couch for the rest of the day. (Actually, sewing blogs-- I haven't read any fanfic, porny or otherwise, in months! But I'm addicted to sewing blogs. Mostly the tutorials-- I could do without the chirpy tone and amusing anecdotes, for the most part, though I don't mind them-- I just want to know how to do stuff.)
I also have a fierce yen to sit and make hand-embroidered whimsical catnip mice from the black felt I just unearthed from a pile of coats last night. (That's where I put it! Christ, I looked there three times.)
But I most certainly am not going to feel bad about calling in. I've tormented myself with guilt for two hours already, but on reflection, I fucking told him so, and I'm not going to get into a car accident because I'm an idiot driving with an ocular migraine. (I get blind patches along with the visual jumping. It's the darnedest thing. Also runs in the family. I think. I probably should see a doctor about those too. I meant to, five years ago, when they started after I got a concussion. Er, I think, I didn't see a doctor about that one either. Um, notice a theme of me not being very good at doctors.)