Tag Archives: rants

Get off my back!

MOH on breakI’m 5′ 11″. When anyone asks how tall I am, I say, “Right around 6′ tall.” It’s just easier to say that.

I love my height!

In high school, I wasn’t so sure. I was taller than most of my classmates, and I felt a little self conscious about it. But then college came, and I found myself embracing my height more and more.

Today, I wear high heels just like any other woman. I love my height. I love celebrating it. And I am not afraid to wear high heels.

So all that said, last night was the first time I actually snapped at a patron while I was bartending. But this woman just finally pissed me off enough that I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

She kept telling me stand up straight. Put my shoulders back.

This happened probably five times over the course of the time she was there.

I finally just walked away. I was done with her. Right as they left I didn’t have much choice but to go past them and once again she tells me stand up straight. I went, “Look. I’ll stand how I want to stand.” She said I should be proud of my height. I should be proud of “the girls” and get them out there.

“I’ve been where you are. It took me years to be proud to be tall.”

I went, “I AM proud to be tall. I wear heels all the time!” (Her husband went, “Yeah!” And fist bumped with me at that. Ha!) “I love my height and I embrace it!”

I was going, “HOW DARE YOU!?” Oh I was angry by the time she finally left. I finally shook my head and walked away. Her husband was SO nice, and he sorta tried to smooth things over, but I was done. I was glad they were leaving, because I was just DONE.

In hind sight I wish I’d told her she wasn’t my mother. In hind sight I wish I’d said, “Thank you for your advice, but you don’t know me. And I don’t appreciate your ‘advice.'” In hind sight, I wish I’d walked away a lot sooner and ignored her blatantly the entire time.

My husband got to hear me rant after they left. I pointed out I never talk back to patrons, but she’d pushed my button one time too many. My husband finally went, “She doesn’t know you. You ARE standing up straight. You DO love your height. She is clueless.” I nodded in agreement and eventually let it go (until I started to write this.)

Do I have perfect posture? No… I admit that. But I love being tall. I know that in her mind, she was giving me some sort of epiphany. In my mind, she was a meddling little “thinks-she-knows-it” all that needed to get off my back.

Literally.

Get your stuff in order!

When I was in college, my adviser loved me. Not because I was that stand out golden child student, but because any time I went to see her I had pretty much already done her job.

I am all about being as prepared as possible. I am all about doing my homework and going into things with most of my questions already answered, but needing confirmation. I am all about keeping things neat (uhm, professionally… don’t anyone look at my desk or under the bed…) and in order. So when I went in to be advised before a new semester, I already had my degree plan filled out, classes selected, and a game plan typed up. All she really ever had to do was look it over and go, “Oh okay.” and maybe put me into those classes that required an adviser’s approval for admittance.

Similarly, I remember when my girlfriends and I went on a road trip weekend. I made sure I had maps, hotel confirmation numbers, addresses, phone numbers, etc. all in a folder. I made sure at least my parents had every single one of my friend’s cell phone numbers just in case of an emergency. They knew where we were going to be, what route we were taking, and what hotels we were staying at… I felt completely responsible for all of my friend’s lives, and I took it very seriously. I had every thing imaginable written down and mapped out ahead of time.

Perhaps most recently, when I had to meet with a lawyer a year and a half ago, I researched what they could possibly need, and I walked in their offices with 90% of the documents they were going to ask me for in hand. The last 10% I got to them within two days, equally in order and laid out for them to use as the needed. The lawyer was more than a little bit floored by all of this.

And that, my dear reader, is what brings me to this blog today.

The fact that someone laying this out neatly and plainly should not be a surprise, in my mind. At the very least, in a professional sense.

As I’ve been helping my parents with tax season, I’ve been reminded day in and day out that I am in the minority, apparently. The condition people bring their information in astounds me sometimes. I had one today that had important information printed on the back of an old email, and other information front-and-back, crooked on one side and upside down on the other.

Now I will admit, there are some that make me smile. Specifically cases where its new parents and their paperwork may have crayon scribbles. THOSE make me smile and chuckle.

But seriously. Much like how we dress can portray how professional we are, our paperwork left at a professional’s office is a representation of who we are as professionals ourselves. I don’t expect people to be as, “OMG I have to lay all this out perfectly and make sure its all perfect” as I am with things. I gotta say, there are times I probably take it a big far. But I DO wish people would step back and think, “Would I want someone to hand this to me and expect me to decipher it?” It’s that easy. “Good enough,” just might not be. “This represents me,” however, is.