Gratitude and Attitude
You ever realize you have someone you need to thank from a prior life, but you just don’t know how to do it? You know, the one who crystallizes your position or your feelings and sets you in a different direction… but they do it by being the opposite of all you value.
I have someone like that in my past. Let’s just call her Winnie.
I had a few years prior to my layoff where I was vaguely dissatisfied. I tried lots of things to fix it. I added volunteer work. I tried some church activities. I fought for work-from-home privileges to maintain better relationship with my kids.
Nothing worked. I then got reassigned to a team with Winnie. You would think this would be a dream team — all women, dedicated professionals, different stages of life, etc.
Winnie wasn’t exactly the manager of the team, but you could tell she wanted to be. She set the tone for the entire team through being its trainer.
Let’s just say she was a subtle nightmare, a silent banshee, a harsh task master.
She could have set a positive tone for the team. Women building women up, women being supportive, women juggling all around each other so that we all could shine.
That wasn’t Winnie. It was her show, all about her, and when it wasn’t it was.
I was angry. I felt a bit betrayed — like HR had looked at our personality profiles and decided we didn’t have enough excitement in life so we had to work together.
Winnie always eyed me suspiciously. I was too quiet. I was too focused on my kids. She actually told me, “You just like change for the sake of change.” She also commented on how wild my clothes were. (I’m sorry I’m not masculine like you… I actually like skirts and blouses and frills and lace.)
Winnie could be heard all over the team’s corner of the building. Her door was closed, my door was closed, and I could hear every odd conversation she had over her telephone
Sure, I was different from when I first started working. But 15 years, some kids, a divorce, a remarriage… those all change you. I happened to like who I was becoming.
We just did not see the world the same way. She could only see black and white, and my world was shades of grey (thousands of them).
She actually accused me of intentionally “fucking up her database.” Mind you, she assigned me the task of updating the thing. I also cleared every change or nuance by her, and I met with her for every situation that did not meet her guidelines.
Angry, we both slammed our doors. I played foreign music (my cue to enter at the risk of your very life), and God and I began an impromptu status meeting on the quality of my soul and submission to Winnie’s leadership.
I don’t remember what He and I covered. I know I was having a massive bitch session (if I may use that without causing the holy rollers to fall apart). I did not like Winnie. She was the world’s worst trainer, and I wouldn’t trust her to train a potato how to grow in the dirt. I would rather hug a cactus than deal with her. Winnie and her kind should be banned from every dealing with people. She was the most passive-aggressive witch in the universe, and if the team wasn’t dealing with stress-related illness at that moment, I prophesied they would within six months. I swore my daughter with Asperger’s was better socially adjusted.
I got silent, and God gave me silence. It wasn’t a “done yet” silence. However, I could almost hear Him sighing and rolling His eyes at me. I now know it was because He had tried for two decades to get my attention, and I wasn’t playing nice at hearing Him.
Remember the conversation about not having a problem without a solution? If you’re Me, where did Winnie start?
What?
When did Winnie start being Winnie? When did Winnie get too broken for words in your words?
I hate when God asks questions. I know I will not like His answers to my responses, and I know it usually means I’m going to enter a season of correction.
I’m waiting.
Um…. high school, or maybe even middle school?
And who would be responsible for fixing her… besides her parents?
Since Winnie’s not the devout church type, it would have had to be a teacher.
So are you going to go be a teacher?
I laughed. He got silent.
Within six months, I got my layoff notice, tried a job that didn’t work, and had a house fire. Within a year, I had two more jobs that didn’t work and were stellar failures. I revisited that conversation with Him… over and over and over and over…
Needless to say, He won. At the end of that year, I had applied for substitute teaching and started pulling together the papers to get into a teacher training program. Within a few days of what would have been my 21st work anniversary, I set foot in a college classroom for the first time in almost a quarter of a century.
Somehow, I know that at some point I do have to ask Winnie’s forgiveness for my lack of submission to her. I also have to thank her for being the catalyst (for I am sure she is every bit as full of passive-aggressive, hidden piss and vinegar as the day of my layoff) in my teaching career.
But, hey, it took me decades to get to the point of accepting His call to teach. Do you think He’ll give me decades for the opportunity for another act of humble obedience to roll around?!?
