Kill Me Now Karma – Formally Known as Do Not Write a Reference Letter This Way, Reprised

I made a terrible mistake in a reference letter once. Granted I was very young and new to the processes of supervision and management. My only training had been being thrown directly into the fire.  Actually, I think they used me as kindling.

As it happens, I was eventually asked to write letters of reference.  Unfortunately, one of those early requests was for someone that I would’ve preferred not to do, but I felt a little obligated and truthfully, I also had semi-dark reasoning.   I was hopeful that it might help us get rid of her faster.

typewriter and paper for 46She regaled us daily with constant complaints. Unfortunately, her desire to provide suggestions for improvement didn’t match her primary efforts.  She also questioned whether every request was really necessary and then she moved at the speed of cold honey to complete them.

Various versions of our days of whine and quease ran through my mind as I struggled with what to say in the letter.  In the end I managed to write that she was a good employee who reliably came to work and could be recommended to competently complete processing general work in repetitive format.

And then she was gone. Yay!

A couple of years later, it was time for me to move on too.  I was thrilled with my new position in a really dynamic up and coming company. It was about a year into this job when guess who applied for a position at the same place?  When some asked me about her because of our mutual previous employer, I said I only knew of her and that I couldn’t really say much else.

I was underwhelmed at the thought of her presence in the building, but I was really unprepared for the news that she would be coming to work in my department, once again under my supervision.  Was I an ax murderer in a previous life, Karma?

I was ready to throw back scotch shots, multiple scotch shots, and I can’t even look at that stuff without thinking esophageal transplant. I still don’t understand how scotch isn’t really automotive fuel additive.  I wholly entertained “kill me now, Karma” thoughts.

To make a long story short, and to shorten the building horror of my damaging memories, I’ll just move onto the day my scotch bottle needs blew up.  My frustrations uncorked with an unbridled request for her to complete her duties.  As in, “Why can’t you just shut the hell up and do your damned job”?

I didn’t realize how loudly I‘d made my request until I saw the company VP strolling down from the other end of the building to ask if I was OK.  Then he asked me to come and speak with him in his office. Yep, thats a walk of shame right there, especially when it’s with somebody you deeply respect.

We engaged in the discussion of what happened and why and how I couldn’t understand how we could move ahead in any meaningful way with such an obvious lack of fit, as she clearly was.

He turned to a bank of files and pulled out a folder.  In measure of fair play, or maybe just a little bit of play, he asked me if I was sure she wasn’t competent enough to work for the company.  I answered with certainty; no, she is not.  Then he handed me a copy of a reference letter she’d provided. Yup. Why couldn’t he have just handed me a few shots of automotive fuel additive instead?

I could only, again, will for death as he explained that, of course part of the reason she’d been hired was because of my own words speaking for her.  I had no reply.  I sat there in bitter disappointment at how death was unwilling to respond. I instead willed for that block of the city to be struck hard by a sudden and deeply distracting earthquake.  No luck there either.  I ended up mumbling some claptrap about trying to do better and slithered out the door.

As it turned out, my department was soon going to be relieved revised anyway and she was being moved to another department.  Fortunately, that little ‘situation’ worked out for the both of us, but it left me with a lot to contemplate, and to learn, especially when it came to  reference letters.

I learned how to say “sorry, no can do” when I had to, and more importantly, I got a much firmer grip on the seriously wise adage of  ‘say what you mean and mean what you say’. There was just no way I could take another possibility of having to turn to scotch.

RL

Friday Funnies On Monday: ‘Cause I Can

I went a little rogue on the Friday funny business because I was completely occupied with birthday frivolity that started on Thursday and coasted me right into this morning. It was a blast, no ragrets, ready to start the newest week in my newest year with a ha ha.

Anyway, getting down to work here… you know what they say: funny business is serious business and if you’re not laughing, you’re serious. A’right, a’right, no one is saying that, just a little diversion to move us along into the Monday Medicinal Memes … Which is better than the cactus needles my son said he wanted to stick into his nose after reading this. Moving on…

Rode the train this morning with the Invisible Man

Uh oh, someone’s in hot water now

We’ve all been there, right?

Do thine eyes deceive thee?

Sleight of hand pro level

They say it’s usually a recessive gene, skips a generation kind of thing

Awesome relationship vetting process

This is just a true story

Come to the farm, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

The regularly scheduled PSA

I believe I have perfected this method

This is how I end my fab, fab, oh so fab birthday weekend.

Do whatever you have to for an awesome week…

RL

A Musing Tale For Two, Three & Seven | Short Story

As the smoke swirled, Seven pushed at her temple to dull the pain while she reeled in relief at the realization that she’d not only survived, she’d pulverized him. Them. She’d denied them her extinquishment by the Demon disguised as Sisyphus in noble despair and his allies. Seven had once been an ally too, one of many that learned too late, that his pleas for protection are from his own orchestrations.

One after another, they’d placed their feet over the steps of the previous muse, believing they’d obliterated his disconsolate past. They were his healers, celestially heralded of course, and each proclaimed as the most extraordinary. Each an intricate weaving of beauty & grace until every strand of that understanding was pulled, crushed and tossed. The quintessential death by a 1000 cuts; slash by tiny slash, they were to be broken down and bled …for his pleasure.

Only one remained, number Three. It still believed in the script; It was the most inclined because It was trained to be. It was raised with the sensibility of a good and loyal and refined Republican, where desire for approval is ingrained and longing to be seen burns deep. Keeping them hungry is the most effective Republican control and Three was the hungriest. Three yearned for the rewards of applying oneself – praise, praise, and praise be to those who praise. It took only a moment to affect humility when fed a fresh, crispy glory morsel.

Three was most like him – claiming to be a gentle soul fighting evil, especially for women, even while triumphantly clinking wineglasses with him, partner in joy & melancholy, this limited modern Aristotle/Martin Luther combo. They’d bonded over their number one tenet: Don’t tell me what I can’t do. These sort are also rarely accustomed to admitting error. Oh, how the Demon appreciated how easy Three made Itself for molding.

Seven saw Three now alone on the field – she watched for a while as It scrambled for attention, begging for more and more approval and admiration. She smirked at all of Its contortionist squirming to meet real daring, to be regarded as genuine badassery while still being the picture of educated refinement. Seven watched as It continued to vie for the top of a heap that never really existed.

Seven was reminded of it all, while comforted within the safety of Michael’s wings and sword. She knew the inevitable ending and although Three’s arrogance made the thought of Its own unwinding amusing, she knew even a conceited Three was also a victim. Still, she also knew even if Three was warned with a literal Demon mind-reading presentation, Three wouldn’t budge from Its self-coveted title of latest ‘number one compassionate soul’.

Three would never admit that It never actually saw a real tear from the Demon, nor that his every manipulation always pulled Three back from any logic, always replaced with emotional diversion. No, It’s too smart to fall for that, after all he’d acknowledged Its many karats of perfection over and over. He’d heroically shored up Its inner warrior: “Join the rebellion, show some skin, say the word fuck out loud in public more”. Ooo, such a trouper, that Three be.

Three would learn that Its own ‘growth’ was only about being exposed for what It really was all along. Every word, every photo, every plea for following… It’s a tricky world alright, but especially for a muse willfully blinding Itself for the win.  All the Numbers reveled in the knowledge that smugness too, is a temporary state.

Despite the humiliation, the Demon constantly reaches for her, but Seven, like the others was already in a place untouchable by his lowliness. The nightmare of shallow Demons & their Fems is temporary hellfire for most.

As Michael ascended, Seven became aware of the Demon’s lock of hair still caught in her fingers. She unwound it and held it over one of the fires. She smiled as the flames lifted and seized it, and the battle pains eased as the field of charred red and its last inhabitants faded from sight.

RL

Let’s Call it, “Phoetry”

Blossoming Love

Showering her gifts
To all who pay her homage
Sweet, pink abundance

#cherryblossom #windshield

Warrior

She was still and sang
Calmly embracing her peace
As the hawks circled

#mourningdove

Hiding in Plain SightLuminous greetings
Luna peeking through sunlight
Furtively winking

Deal Me In Unexpected chance
Risk takers found floating bets
Gambled on water

#riverboat #tres’ #Nashville

Haiku ToiletriesSelfie June 2018Bathroom selfie dare
First (and last) effort complete
Note: need longer arms

#flash

RL

Um Adriana, I Don’t Like You Like That

So, I got another email from Adriana today. At first I was annoyed at her constant recurrent messages. However, now as the months have gone by, I’m starting to worry about her.  She really doesn’t seem to be able to move forward in life.

typistShe said she’d chatted with me quite a bit on Facebook before I deleted her.  I can honestly say, I don’t recall any of that. Nothing, nada, zip. But then again, a little further in the letter she admitted that maybe she chatted with me only a couple of times.  I wonder if this was when I was attached to those serious morphine drips.

She keeps saying she is newly single and moving near me soon.  Seems she’s not able to move quickly, ‘cause she’s still where she was when she started writing me seven or eight months ago. She might also have to start making better choices in the love department since her relationship cycle has gone down to one or two week increments at most. Always sounds so lonely; poor thing. Maybe I can help her out with that.

Actually, I’d better help her out with that.  Apparently somewhere in those early chats, she got the idea I could be some kind of friend with benefits. She said I told her how cute she is. (Gonna have to go ahead and blame the morphine). Then she continually asks if I’m married and drops lots of hints about what we could do together.  She “loves the outdoors and to socialize, go out for drinks, restaurants, movies etc”.  She also calls me “Babe”. I think the sooner I can get her set up with someone, the less likely I am to hurt her feelings when I have to point out that I don’t really like her ‘like that’.

She said she’s currently employed with some kind of website where she actually gets paid to yap, etc.  Sounds like a pretty good gig to me; I can chat anyone’s ear off! I wonder what the pay is like?

On the other hand, she said she needs to find work when she does finally get here.  I hope that’s not a hint to help her find a job.  I’m not sure what I could endorse her for – maybe something with repetitive tasks.

I wonder why she couldn’t just set up the same chat thing here.  It would save a lot of effort to get settled, and it would also help a lot in romantic appeal territory.  I’m sure her having a job would be a lot easier for me to promote than the level of her libido – something else she likes to point out regularly. Some people are just that comfortable with themselves, I guess.

Anyway, as a soon to be neighbor, I will do my best to welcome her to the community. Hopefully I’ll only have to show her around a little.  Hopefully her resume is up to date.  Hopefully she doesn’t add that libido part into the conversation when I introduce her to anyone.

I’m not sure what I offered in those alleged conversations, but a little help is the least I could do after her repeated generous offers of some kind of VIP pass code to her chat site, which by the way, includes full access to her webcam. Normally people have to pay some big monthly fees for this, but because I’m a ‘special’ friend, her boss “Natalie”, says I can have it for free.

I suppose I should log onto it soon to at least let her know I got the gift and say thanks.  Then I can see if we can nail down the dates of her imminent arrival and finally get her onto her new path.

Oh look, there’s another email from Adriana; I guess I can catch up with her now.

RL