Five Things

1. Work: The HR rep and I are a lot alike: we are both straightforward, hard workers. She set up an appointment with me. I realized that the 15-20 minutes she had set up would not do, so I stayed up until 2 in the morning writing an 11-page "Discussion of My Job," which I emailed to my manager, the director, and the HR rep. I hope it will open some eyes and show that there are problems, but we're all working on them, and I am doing my best. Meeting with her was interesting. I was surprised at some of the things she asked. (For example, she asked about someone, and I said, "Oh, are you going to ask about all the full-timers?" It turns out she thought that person was a leader. I wonder where she got that from.) Overall, it went pretty well, except for the question she asked me point-blank that got me a lecture: "Do you work overtime?" I still think the strictness about overtime is ridiculous, although I can see the legal issue. I'm not going to make it a legal issue, so I see myself above the rule, which I guess is really annoying from other perspectives. I said that it was impossible to get everything done on time. She said that no one would know that the job was too demanding for one person if I continued to work overtime. I replied that that may be true, but never in this life would we get any full-time slots back. She said managers would work on that. We both knew at that moment that no full-time slots would return. We knew that the day they started disappearing into oblivion. One other thing about working overtime: I see it as a matter of dedication. Those who tell me they can't do something because they're scheduled to leave in thirty seconds . . . what does that tell you? Perhaps that they are only here for the paycheck and probably don't make the best use of their time? Anyway, I worked three late nights this week, and I re-discovered how awesome guys are compared to a lot of girls in employment. Two of the nights, I had three or four of our new guy trainees. (Don't ask if we subconsciously hired all guys in reaction to the girl drama. It may have been subconscious for others . . .) These guys are amazing. They don't complain! They don't gossip! They know how to work while they're talking (GASP!), and what they talk about is hilarious, such as how to shelve books like spiderman, and what everyone's favorite Disney movie is, and how the song "More Than Words" has never been permanently disliked by anyone. Sometimes I really wish I could have been a guy. P.S. Steve Dalton is still one of my favorite people. Even if nothing matters, he can make me smile and laugh just by being himself. What a stud. Sometimes I entertain dating him. He'd make a fabulous boyfriend. I just don't think we have much in common besides putting books away really fast and liking to laugh. When Jordan, Steve, and I were in my office passing off their training, Steve said something like, "Michelle is really cool, but she just won't go out with me," loud enough so Jordan could hear. Jordan looked up with this half-smile on his face, and I said, "Whatever, we've gone out several times." We all laughed and I think that at least Jordan and Steve know that I can be a friend and not just a leader.

2. I went to the RS service project for a while yesterday. I put together soup bags while I talked to Susan Parkin, one of my favorite ladies. This other lady came and talked to me. She said she knew who I was. It turned out she was the mom of this kid who was in my grade. She kept telling me to stick around since he's on his mission right now. Ner. Then she had me go be a volunteer for her daughter's science project. She had to weigh and measure me. I told her not to tell me how much I weighed, I didn't want to know (this has been my policy for several years, and it works swell). While she measured me, she said, "You weighed less than anyone else." Don't know what I'm supposed to take from that.

3. I was bitterly disappointed today. For about twenty minutes I had to remind myself that someone was just trying to make the meeting nice and didn't know how important it was to me and to stop being selfish. A month ago, I asked the leader of the music if we could sing verse 6 of "Behold the Great Redeemer Die" next time we sang it, (it was scheduled for the 25th, the day before my birthday) since it is not in the regular part of the music and I've never heard it sung before. I like to read it during the sacrament. I love how it says, "to do his will and live his praise." Not just to live worthy of his praise, but to live it. Cool. So anyway, she said sure, and today I reminded her, the organist, and the music director. I even told some people in Sunday School to pay attention to the sacrament hymn, because we would be singing some extra verses that I liked. When the song started, I wondered why she hadn't said something like "verse four through six" to the congregation. I was playing the piano while her daughter played the organ, and she said something when we got to verse 4. At the end of verse 4, she ended and sat down. I don't know why I was so sad, all I can say is that it was bitter disappointment. I ask for so little, I kept thinking, but even the small things I would like are not important.

4. The bishop replaced my lost recommend today. After the regular quesitons, he asked if I was having any problems and I admitted that I'd been depressed recently. He told me that we couldn't expect to be perfect and talked for a few minutes about doing our best. I didn't tell him that I couldn't care less right now about being perfect. I don't care about anything (except singing extra verses, apparently). I didn't tell him that there is no point to anything and that I have discovered the Santa-Claus-like secret that nothing matters.


5. Tomorrow is my 22nd birthday. Thinking that gives me not one ounce of excitement. At first, I was going to take it off as my Saturday comp day, but what's the point? It's just another day. The one thing I could think of that I would like would be for someone to come to me (not call, I'm not currently answering the phone very much) and say, "Hey Michelle, I want to spend some time with you. We'll do whatever you want to do." Maybe we'd go skiing or shopping for a new watch. Maybe I'd tell them that the offer was nice of them, but I was just going to sleep for the next 24 hours and spend the rest of my life in a daze, trying to ignore the fact that there is no meaning. Who knows? Or maybe I'd say, "You know, I could really use your help. Will you help me figure out how to throw away most of what I have and ship the rest to Germany so I can get away from everyone and everything I know and just start over? That'd sure be nice of you."

5 and a half. I am scanning all of my worthless papers that somehow have worth somewhere inside of me, because I can't quite just throw them in the recycle bin. Maybe someday I will put an image of everything I've ever had on my website, and people will be able to study the persona of Michelle Glauser.