The Real Life Twilight Zone
Imagine being invited to a dinner/dance where you are supposedly one of the guests of honor. Your meal has been paid for by the sponsoring party and all you have to do is show up. Imagine now, that when you arrive, those in attendance, those who have invited you there, give you dirty looks, ignore you outright (other than the mean glares and looks of disdain), and instead of seating you at an 8-top table like nearly everyone else, they seat you at a small table with two other people who are also there to be "appreciated."
Now imagine this. . . during the 20 minute period where the band takes a break, there is a raffle drawing. When the woman in charge needs to find someone to draw the winning ticket and you happen to be the absolute closest person to her, she turns towards you, only to realize it's you so her face contorts into all kinds of unhappiness and her arms protectively pull the container back into her body as she seemingly bounces off the repelling force field surrounding you and goes to a table behind you to have one of those people draw the winning ticket instead.
This was my life on Saturday night, not an episode of "The Twilight Zone" which is what it felt like. No, this, my friends, was the Officers Appreciation Dance at the country club where I'm an officer on the board.
It used to bother me that these older individuals didn't like me and that instead of saying "hi" to me, many of them do a little harrumph thing or instead emit a low guttural growl. I'm one of those people who likes people to like me. At least, I used to be anyway.
Now, after months of this type of treatment, I'm used to it and am so callous to it that I actually find it funny.
I can't figure out what's so repulsive about me to many of them. Many it's the fact that the event I planned had over 200 people there and their event had only 39. Maybe it's the fact that I took a rarely used bar and with a team of awesome people and a shoe-string budget, renovated it into a sports bar that is incredible. Maybe it's the fact that, for now, my wrinkle cream appears to be working better than theirs. I'm not quite sure.
What I do know is this. I was raised to treat people with respect whether I like them or not. I sometimes have a problem with this and operate under the premise of "three strikes and you're out," but I try my very best to be civil to people who irritate me. Instead of growling at people, I tend to just ignore them if I'm not a fan; sometimes I "kill them with kindness" instead. I abhor trashy behavior and tend to be one of those people who rise above it all. I think most people who know me well tend to think I have class and that I know how to behave in professional and social situations.
After spending 80+ years on this planet, one would think that a human could develop some basic manners and social skills. One would think. . . and one would be wrong. The moaners and groaners should know something though. I'm over being bothered by their obvious dislike of me. In fact, I'm over it to the point that it's now what drives me. It drives me to say "hello" with a great big smile every time I see them because I know it physically kills them to even look in my direction. I'm over expecting that they'll eventually like me when they see that what I'm trying to do is for the good of the club, because I've realized that their self-interest has always outweighed their desire to see the business succeed.
When I was elected to the board, a fellow board member and now friend said something very wise to me. "People either love you or they hate you and there's no money in between." He also told me I'd have to become "bullet proof."
I'm there.
My Full Time Non-Paying Job
Filed under: Board of Directors, Mental Strain for Mama
Most mornings, Lil C wakes up and packs one of her bags with snacks and toys without me even asking. Then she puts it by the door and asks when we're going to the club. It's been an almost daily occurrence. Next week, when the new sports bar is finally finished, and I can stop going to the club to rip wallpaper down, sand walls, paint, stain, put frosting on windows, lay tile, caulk seams in the floor, lay laminate flooring and deal with any other craziness that happens, Lil C won't know what to do.
I will.
There will be sleeping and long hours spent outside. There will also be clean laundry in the house that will make it to drawers for a change. Perhaps I will go grocery shopping so we can stop ordering food or eating at the club almost every night. Perhaps I will attend karate classes for a change, actually do some exercising, call my best friend, socialize with my neighbors and plan for an opening cook-out to celebrate warmer weather on the way. Maybe I will wash my hair more often. Maybe I will swap my paint clothes for some of the new things bought when I decided I needed a little retail therapy from all the stress.
Perhaps I will grade some papers in a timely fashion for my paying job. Maybe I will try to converse about something other than the club. Maybe I will get some sleep and get rid of these dark circles.
And I know, I will disconnect for a bit, from email, the internet, the phone, and all the negativity, and just relax for a very nice change.
SBMS-A Real Syndrome, A Real Problem
Filed under: Board of Directors, Mental Strain for Mama
I once worked for a very cranky man who suffered from short bald man's syndrome. It was not a pleasant time in my life. In addition to suffering from SBMS, he also had a real problem with chauvinism and thought that if you were a girl and working for him, then it was perfectly ok for him to run his hand up the back of your leg. Man, how I wish I had known how to do a good back kick back in the day.
The other day, I was at the club, helping Big I with homework and finishing up the last couple bites of my dinner after putting in an 8 hour day of working on the new bar area, when I was approached by a man with this syndrome, except add "fat" to it which mulitplies the problem ten-fold. In addition to SFBMS, he also had a problem with close-talking.
I happen to despise close talkers. It's probably because of the night that Hanshi spent a great deal of time talking about proper distancing and what to do with your hands when someone is coming at you aggressively. I like my space and you'll probably notice me backing up to reestablish my space if you're getting too close to me.
This particular man approached me, stood too close and said "You're on the board right?" and then proceeded to act like I had said or done something to ignite his temper despite the fact that he was upset about things that had happened before I was even born. He ranted about craziness for quite some time and I listened respectfully while also playing a whole lot of Devil's Advocate with him. He reminded me he voted for me as if he was the only one who had; I reminded him that a lot of other people did too.
It is becoming very clear to me, why some board members don't spend much time at the club. It is absolutely impossible to have a quick conversation with someone while there. It is impossible to eat your dinner without interruption.
I am wondering what this summer will be like, when I'm spending my time at the pool with the girls. Will I be bombarded with craziness all summer long too? Will I be able to enjoy any time with my family without having to discuss issues related to the board?
I am quickly approaching becoming the not-so-nice version of myself that is going to tell people to put it in writing and send me an email instead of taking up my time with my family. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm already there.
Buried
Filed under: Board of Directors, Mental Strain for Mama
I haven't been blogging much at all. In fact, I haven't been doing much of anything blog or martial arts related lately. The screw in my knee is protruding more and more and I need to make an appointment soon. I just am delaying entering back into that world of knee crap again. I don't want to go there, understandably so.
Instead of doing what I should be doing, I've been throwing myself full force into the board position at the country club. The sports bar pitch I made on Monday night was voted through, so now all the getting quotes and meeting with contractors has shifted to ripping down wallpaper and supervising the project so that everything turns out as planned. I am both excited and nervous. I am constantly thinking, "if you build it, they will come" and am really hoping this is true. If we spend the money, build it and they don't? Well, it'll be my head on the chopping block for sure. I've stretched my neck out far for this one, used all my persuasive skills, and am holding out hope that it will all turn out ok.
In addition to being buried by country club business, we've been buried. . . literally. . .
The side of our house. We actually had to go out in the storm to clear our furnace vent because the snow drifts were so high.
We were so thankful to friends and neighbors who showed up to help with the digging out. It was pretty intense.
That would be our extremely buried mailbox that took Mr. BBM several hours to dig out.
The snow piles from the street. . .
The snow drifts off our rock wall that are waist high on adults. . .
Half of our holly tree with the nearby butterfly bushes completely covered.
The snow drifts on our patio and our covered patio table. . .
Needless to say, we are not thrilled about the prospect of another 6 inches on Monday night. My class at the university is quickly turning into an independent study course. This is truly insanity.
The Great Divide
On Sunday, I spent almost the entire day at the country club, helping to decorate for the holidays. We put up four Christmas trees, yards and yards of lit garland all around the ballroom, and decorated the bar room. When we were finished I was exhausted and I'm pretty sure my surgeon would not have approved of my ladder climbing. However, when you're the youngest one, the job sort of falls to you.
Decorating was interesting to say the least. There were several board members there who are pretty obviously sour about a younger gal like me getting elected. One of them couldn't stop telling me about the 12 years she's been on the board and the hard work it is to be a board member. She was referring to my dragging a Christmas tree across the floor for her. She was also talking about how it's difficult to be a board member when you have young children because they have activities and how younger people just don't have the time. I think I prefer it when they're so sour that they won't even talk to me.
Needless to say, I set the tree up and went to hang out with the men. I was trying to stay polite and I was about at my limit. The men don't seem to mind me very much. In fact, they were more than happy to steady the ladder for me so I could hang the garland at the very top of the wall. At one point, I drove across the street to get some pipe cleaners to fasten to the garland. It will make hanging up the garland next year a piece of cake and perhaps there won't be as much bickering.
Good God the bickering.
When I returned, one of the guys had already told everyone there what a genius I am and how I had such great ideas. He whispered to me when I came back, "This better work. I've been bragging about you." I'm happy to report it worked, perfectly.
I realized a couple things while I was over there decorating. First, I don't think there's any way these older women will ever like me. It seemed to me that they spent much of their time discussing my decorating and trying to supervise me. Some of the guys told me they were talking about me in the other room. It didn't stop me from only hanging six bows on the bar instead of the standard eight. It also didn't stop me and another younger woman from hanging Christmas balls from the garland surrounding the bar. They've never done that before. I'm pretty sure people were about to have a heart attack, but it didn't stop us. One thing they'll learn about me quickly is that I don't back down and I don't like being told what to do. I'm no baby. I figure they'll hate me worse after a couple meetings. If they give me too much trouble, I'll start bringing my 92-year old grandmother with me to the club. She'll give them the smackdown alright. I'm like her favorite person on the planet. Scratch "like;" I am the hands down favorite.
Second, there is much tension at the club between warring factions. I decided that I need to do my best to stay unbiased and objective. I need to look at each decision that comes up individually.
And finally, there is so much to be done, and it is not going to be easy. When you're the youngest person on the board, I think it makes it that much more difficult to convince people you know what you're talking about. I'm going to do it though, or I'll go down trying.
Scratch that "trying" business. I'm just going to do it.
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