Make your mind up

At work, we are going through a period of restructure, rationalisation, call it what you will, at work. There are, not unexpectedly, a lot less jobs available than there are people going for them.

Today, the application forms we’re to use were posted on the intranet. That was my straw and I had a meltdown. Can’t cope stuff. It reinforced that although there are supposedly two jobs I’m eligible to apply for, I don’t even understand the role specifications of one of them. The reality is, there’s only one.

This was stupid. I don’t do crying. I don’t cry. I do deep breaths, metaphorical brushing of hair and washing of face and get on with it. I guess there has to be an exception that makes the rule.

After a bit of self-indulgence (lucky I wasn’t wearing mascara), I decided to write a session plan for a session I’m delivering on Wednesday. An easy task, something I could cope with; writing session plans is a doddle. Except that the session is a follow-up to “goals” training, which is a programme for young people about improving self-esteem, positive thinking/reacting and behaviours. I need to go on it, not deliver it! I ploughed through the sometimes sickly sweet recommendations until I got to a last page where the book had a list of suggested things to do every day. Third on the list was “Give and receive at least four hugs a day.”

Son just isn’t that tactile with his old mum.

Now I’ve moved onto procrastination stage. I have options and can:

Dive into the application paperwork and get straight on with it
Do something completely different until my head is ready to do it
Give myself a certain amount of time away (counting hours here, not days) then tackle it
Leave it until the last minute

4 isn’t really an option. That’s not the way I work and it would make me far too uncomfortable. Instead, I’m vacillating between the first three, not even making that simple decision.

Dinner now needs to be decided on, prepared, cooked and eaten. The perfect excuse for further procrastination.

My next four to six weeks are going to be ‘annus horribilis’ condensed into a few weeks. I don’t even care if I spelt that wrong!

Oh, how frustrating to have that additional indignity of needing to apply for your job online. It seems to me online applications contain a subtle putdown: “Here it is; like it or lump it. We are doing this for our own convenience. Yes, you can’t ask us questions where you don’t understand, but that doesn’t matter because you don’t matter.” Grrrr!! I smiled at the “Give and receive at least four hugs a day. I wonder how often that happens for anyone above the age of two or so, including happily married couples? So unrealistic! (Or am I being affected by my own conditioning; I feel uncomfortable giving and receiving hugs, unless the situation is really unusual and emotional e.g. someone has just died. Connections, for me, are more likely to be shown by humour, including teasing.) As you face your awful few weeks. I’d send you a hug – but suspect, like me, you’d be more comfortable with a joke – if only I could think of one!

Ugh. A tough situation, and becoming all too common these days.