« A sign of the times | Home | No Frackin' Way!!! »
November 7, 2005
Blood in my mouth
If you recognize the title, you know that it's one of my favorite Incubus songs. It's one I've screamed at the top of my lungs many times back when I lived out in the rural wastelands of Eastern NC, back in the day when I could scream at the top of my lungs without anyone hearing me. Not that it was a good thing, just that I could. Many times I wished someone could have heard me screaming, but I digress ...
Today is an unusual test of my fortitude and grace. I've always believed that God gives us tasks and tests just to see how we stand up to them, whether we lower ourselves or rise above. I'm trying to desperately to rise above, to be a gracious loser, to accept defeat and move on. It's not been easy.
Let me describe the setting for you. Last week, as you may have read, I was off at a training session for Intel, in preparation for teaching the course I'm taking right now. This, of course, was because I was being considered for the position that would have me teaching this course.
Now, if you've been keeping up, you know that I didn't get the job. That was followed by much weeping and gnashing of teeth and self-doubt, just about every reaction you could expect from someone who had their heart set on a promotion but they got passed over in favor of someone else. Maybe more, because I'm childish and emotional and not as schooled at being pwned at this level.
Yes, I've grieved the loss of this opportunity and tried not to keep hope alive that some deus ex machina will arrive to solve my dilemma. I'm realistic and I know it's all but a done deal.
So, I show up for my training today (yeah, the one I got trained how to teach last week) and outside the room is the man whose job I wanted talking to the woman that got it over me. Talk about a long walk. I got myself prepared, walking, I thought, a la the intro to Reservoir Dogs, all slo mo and cool. I was Mr. Pink *in my head* and God dammit, I wasn't going to show them that they had hurt me.
Smiling, pleasantries, duck inside to the relative safety to walk into the teacher of this course, the one that would have been my partner, the one that didn't think I was qualified. Uncomfortable pleasantries exchanged and I excuse myself to find a seat.
Ok, 2 minutes down, 5:58 to go.
I stayed behind for lunch, preferring to work here rather than fight traffic to drive 1.4 miles to my house, have cold pizza and then back.
Tried calling for reinforcement but had to leave a message. S'ok, hearing the voice on the message was almost enough. He's prolly about sick of me at this point after yesterday.
People are coming back and I will continue to be the friendly, pleasant, professional person everyone knows me as. I refuse to break down. They can't break me no matter how they have broken my heart.
High fives to better judgement.
By saying less, I will gain more.
Low twos to you my fickle friend,
who brought the art of silent war.
