Wednesday, January 24, 2007


As is my habit, every few days when I clean out our communal email. We (all three of us on the team) share one work email and sometimes, it gets a little full. O.k., a lot full.

And is my habit while I'm cleaning out my email, I took a look at a few emails that looked important. One from a funeral home out of town, one from our boss and then I opened one from one of my co-workers. It was in the sent folder and normally I would have just bypassed it without a second thought but for some reason I opened it and nearly blew my top when I read it.

According my co-worker (who I have almost always gotten along with and might I add, not bothered to mention any issues with how I do my job) I "don't care AT ALL" about our style and way of doing things. So she had sent this message to another co-worker to get her to tell our new person the same things she was, since I "don't care AT ALL".

I was floored.

I was angry.

I was turning bright red.

We work split shifts, meaning I start off the day at 7 a.m., the next person comes in at 12:30 p.m. then the co-worker who sent the email starts at 2 p.m. so I had most of my day to stew over what I had read. Normally, I would have flown off the handle, let my temper get out of control and zipped off a nasty reply. This time I didn't. The longer the day went on the more I realized it wasn't worth it. I know I do a good job. My boss has never given me a bad review and really, who cares what my co-worker thinks. Our job is to not just do the obits but make the families that send them in happy with the final result and with the exception of a few complainers, I have very rarely had to defend my actions.

So I let it drop. Oh, I'm still a little bitter and probably a lot shorter in my conversations with the co-worker, but that's how I am. We are strictly on a professional relationship now. Nothing beyond that. Even better? I didn't go home and swallow my emotions either. In years gone by I would have gone home and buried my sorrows in a bag of pretzels. Or pint of ice cream. Or half a bag of Oreos.

Not this time.

And for that factor alone I'm proud of myself.

Suddenly I'm beginning to feel like I'm acting my age. Good or bad? Not sure. But I do know that for once I'm not ashamed to say I handled something like an adult.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Congratulations. You've reached a level of maturity that a great many people never achieve in their lives. You should be proud of yourself.