Too Much Drama in the G-S-K

We have a lovely office manager, Ginger McGrouchy. She's an odd creature, prone to frequent doctors' visits, long lunches, and closed-door gossip. She's easily spotted as she as she has flaming red hair and pale, glowing flesh. She preys on fruit, crackers, and office staff who have more freedom than she does. She thrives in a hostile, unfriendly environment. You might recognize her crouching in our director's office, reporting infractions, or camoflauged behind the front desk. All in all, she's a peach.

So, today, my WorkPal and I spent many hours trekking around town, asking for donations so we could fun some t-shirts for girls during this Mom & Me event we're holding late in the summer. It was a chore. Just mustering up the courage to hear people reject you all day is tough, but then to actually walk (in heels) from business to business, past "No Soliciting" signs only to hear that the people we needed to talk to were out, or that they'd already given to charities this year was terrible. Five donations of $100 each would fund us, AND the business gets its name on the back of the t-shirts that kids and parents alike will be wearing around town to boot. I, personally, thought it was a good deal. I would've donated had I a working business. So, then, after about 10 rejections and a handful of MaybeButComeBack's, a monsoon hit - June 11th style. I had to pull over (Luckily, there was Sonic Drive-In and it was Happy Hour.), and wait that out.

Awhile later, we trudge back in the office, wet from the storm, to settle back into what we need to accomplish today. Ginger bee-bops over to my office door, armed with her deadly weapon: the pathetic sign. It must be mating season in Ginger's parts because she was in rare form. She was lookin' for a fight, as some might say.

CoWorker Pal is also in my office. Ginger begins with,
"I just want to start off my saying that I don't give a d@mn where you all go during the day."
Uh oh. If that's as good as it's going to get, this is bad. The Pal & I exchange glances.
Ginger continues to explain that she's upset, to say the least, that we left the office without making sure that she had lunch. Okay, well maybe we were douches there, but she didn't speak up. If I was starving at my desk, I would NOT have waved silently as we were walking out the door. I would've spoken up. Grow up, Peter Pan. I'm not your babysitter, and I'm not making you a PB&J. Tell me you haven't eaten if you haven't. She continued by pointing out that she also needed to know where we are at all times so she can answer volunteer's questions. Point well taken, EXCEPT that you get this handy slice of paper in your inbox every single week that details my whereabouts. Boo-Yah!

I stood my ground. I apologized for her having not the opportunity to take lunch. If she had mentioned that she didn't have that taken care of, of course, I would've sat back down and waited for her. Clearly, she was mad about other stuff, but tell me she wouldn't.

A volunteer walked in the office, so I said,
"I will make sure you have lunch in the future. Clearly, we don't agree about this, but that's fine." She agreed, and walked away. The volunteer finished her business, and what did Ginger do?!? She came back to my doorway. I wanted to close it in her face, but I sat there attentively.

She continued to try to sway me to her side. I do NOT agree, and I am not one to just let it slide. I tried very hard to be nice, but I also tried very hard to be clear about my feelings. I always maintain my composure. Another volunteer came in, and she retreated angrily.

Awhile later, she was back for Round 3. Geez, Louise. I restated my position. She persisted, pesky Ginger that she is. I cracked.
"I'm sorry that you did not get lunch. I will check in the future." This was said definitively, as if to also say Goodbye. See yourself out of my office. She stomped out.

This brings me to my point: Working in an office setting is too emotionally exhausting for me. With 7 women cooped up together 8 hours a day, there's bound to be trouble. And there always is. I want out.