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What happened to my quiet time?

Posted in Life, Work with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 8, 2014 by urbannight

clock

I can’t think in the mornings. To start out with, I am not a morning person. It is odd because since the time change Sunday, I’ve been waking up at 4:30, what would have been 5:30, which is earlier than I normally got up anyway.

The upside is that I can usually get to work early for some morning OT. The down side is that I start to drag long before lunch hour.

When we first moved to this new building, those of us who started at 7:30 had a very quiet office to work in. It was a peaceful start to get a jump on a productive day. Now it is a loud, noisy, bustling place at 7:30 am. It is annoying, distracting, and makes it impossible to get a good jumpstart on the day.

It doesn’t help that all the new people ever hired to replace anyone or to build up the numbers in the unit to deal with increasing business have all wanted to start at 7:30. So 8:00 people left and were replaced with 7:30 people. This doesn’t help the afternoon when we need coverage for the last half hour of the day. The newest hire wasn’t given a choice.

This is why I try to get to work extra early, so I can get my quiet time back. I need that peace to get my brain in gear before the distractions start, if I don’t then the distractions keep me from working as I want to. I find myself staring at the monitors trying to find that place of stillness and peace and balance from whence all effectiveness flows.

The unit next to us now is a recovery unit who are on the phones nearly as often as my unit. The problem is that most of them get to work even earlier than us. Some mornings they are working in silence and other mornings they are loud and boisterous. This means that even if I get to work early I can’t find my peaceful, quiet, time that gives me that edge the remainder of the day.

It doesn’t help that we are now using a TPA that is so bad that half of our complaint calls are all about them and 100% of the calls about the TPA are complaint calls. It is so stressful anymore that I dread opening a file and seeing the name that indicates the file went to the TPA. It’s enough that I’m contemplating job hunting and I really don’t want to do that. I’m finally making a decent wage and I don’t want to have to start over again at a starting wage.

If only I had my peace and quiet in the mornings once again and maybe I would have my equilibrium in place before the day started. But maybe even that would no longer help. I don’t rightly know anymore. I just have to take it one day at a time.

Strange Brew – Carrots?

Posted in Entertainment with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 19, 2012 by urbannight

What does three bundles of carrots mean? What do they MEAN?????

Dreams are a strange concoction of events, movies, books, and random input in your life being sorted and processed by the subconscious.  I do think that dreams can have meaning and messages.  But these need to be interpreted in the context of your life, not from some kind of dream dictionary.  But sometimes a dream is just a dream.  Here was my weird one from last night.

I’m working late at work, to get some more sections done on a project.  We can work up to 2 hours over time a week in reality.  In my dream, this was not a limit.  I get the impression I was making up for some time off I took. (in reality, I’m out of sick days and I took an unpaid sick day last week.  I was also supposed to go in and work 2 hours OT Saturday and I was too sick to go.)

I wasn’t feeling well so I decided to take a bath.  Our cubicles were bigger and for some reason, instead of a desk section behind me, I had a bathtub and t.v.  I then fell asleep in the bathtub. (this weekend, I kept wanting to take a bath but took showers instead.  Sunday, I went to take a bath and decided a nap sounded better.  I slept about 5 hours.  It was a LONG nap.)

The cubicles have an extra wall section that is hinged and works as a sort of door.  I hear the cleaning crew come in so I get up and get dressed.  One of the cleaners asks me to call his pastor because they need some money for gas and baby food.  I call and leave a message.

It is very late yet there were a lot of people working.  There was an entire accounting department (that doesn’t exist) that worked overnight shifts. (I suspect this is from me watching way to many episodes of Supernatural, back to back, on Netflix almost every day.) 

I finish my tasks and turn around to find something on the floor inside my door.  It’s a mystery note from the mysterious pastor saying these people are not who they say they are and they are trying to extort money from him.  He had notified authorities but he was giving me a reward.  Pinned to it was 50$.  This seemed really strange. 

I tuck it in my wallet with the rest of my money (for some reason, all my money is in my wallet and not my bank) and put my wallet in my purse.  I’ve had a bad feeling about this from the moment they showed up. 

The rest of the cleaning crew is leaving and the man and his wife come up to my cube and she is not Hispanic.  (Okay, everywhere I’ve worked in the last 6 years has had Hispanic cleaning crews.  I’m not trying to stereotype.  This is just an element from my life experience in this city.)  She was also not part of the cleaning crew.  I’m feeling gratified that there are a lot of accountants around right now so I’m not alone with them.

She demands her money.  I don’t have ‘her’ money, but I do have a note the pastor left for them.  (Why he snuck in and out I don’t know.) It is just a folded bit of paper and I’m trying to find it in all my receipts and cash and stuff.  She keeps trying to peek around me and into my purse.  She can’t so she finally tells me to hive her my purse. 

“No. I am not giving you my purse.  You do not need to look in my purse.” (the only direct line I can remember from the dream.  She then gets all huffy and tries to act all official and like she is going to try to put me under citizen’s arrest or something.  (I watched The Watch, it was rather boring.)  I know she plans to rob me.  I just cock my head at her and tell her she isn’t touching me or my purse and that I am going to call the police. 

An accountant, hearing the argument, stops and hangs out near us.  She doesn’t believe I will call the police.  I pick up the phone and dial 911.  As I’m doing this, I notice there are several bunches of carrots on the floor.  I have no idea why they are there.  I’m pondering this as the 911 operator answers the phone and I wake up.

What an awful place to wake up.  I want to know what happened next.  I’m really confused by the carrots.  I really just want to know about those carrots.  Who care about what would have happened next.  I was ready to thow down with that woman.