Rum-and-Coke Therapy

I think this was the absolute worst week of my professional career: worse than the week when I fired someone every single day; worse than the week I worked thinking I had the flu that turned out to be hepatitis; worse than the week I worked as an HR coordinator in a law firm.

This week I had one of the VP's take my list of proposed staff cuts, add my name to it and turn it in to the board of directors as her own analysis. This week I had another VP who has been stabbing me in the back with the staff because I've been too supportive of the CEO and do too much of his delivering of bad news come into my office - yet again! - close the door, and ask me basically if the CEO was mad at him. This week I had an employee make up a story with a germ of truth to it, and when I tried to explain that she didn't understand what she was talking about, she called me a liar. In writing. Twice. The CEO is still threatening to quit, which means if he goes, I go, and at this point I don't care.

But to ease the pressures, tonight I treated myself to several Rum and Cokes. I think this might be the first time I've actually drunk to relieve stress. I can't say that the stress was relieved so much as I got a brief vacation, during which I could sort of see all of these situations a little more clearly. Of course, the problem is that the clarity that comes with alcohol consumption is short-lived. Still, I think I reached the point where I recognized and accept that all of these issues are other people's problems and they're trying to make them mine. And for the first time I'm not going to let them.

Monday should be fun because that's the day the CEO plans to deliver his ultimatum and there will probably be a big meeting to discuss the delusional employee.

And when we get her issue settled I will expect an apology.