...and The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

This past Wednesday was an exceptionally good day at work. While I truly like my job on most days, Wednesday seemed to be a day when everything clicked. The all staff meeting that began the day included free MARTA passes with the promise of continued subsidies for those of us willing to try public transport--something I need to do since my commute time and costs are staggering. My co-workers, including my boss, were especially fun to be around. Our patrons were easy to please and generous in their comments about my knowledge and willingness to help. The last patrons of the day were a group of three elderly ladies that reminded me so much of my Mom--spry and cheerful and thrilled to have my help in finding information on their ancestors. I was riding high.


After closing up the library, I headed downstairs to return a call--one of my volunteers had left a message earlier saying that she wouldn't be coming in that day. I had a feeling she wasn't happy with us, but when I called her back, she let me have it--personally--with both barrels. It seems I had humiliated and embarassed her in front of a patron and my boss; I was always too busy to speak to her; she had an excellent relationship with my predecessor and all my coworkers, but there was something about my personality that she just couldn't stand and she did not think she ever wanted to work with me again.


Well, by the time she finished with me I was in tears and unable to hide it. I never contradicted anything she said, but apologized profusely and repeatedly and offered to put my apology in writing to her, my boss, and the AHC Director of Volunteers (which I did as soon as I hung up the phone). It didn't even faze her. She was every bit as angry with me when we hung up as she was when we started. Having dealt with angry people for decades in a number of customer service-type jobs, I have never failed to win folks over eventually. Not so this time. As far as she is concerned, I was scum, I am scum, and I will always be scum.


One pint of Ben & Jerry's and a Chevy Chase movie later, I was feeling somewhat better, but the very next day I put both my darling daughters on separate planes--one to England and the other to college in Idaho.


One pint of Haagen Das and a Bridget Jones' Diary movie later, I was still blubbering. Which leads me, oddly enough, to the point of this post.


I have, unfortunately, discovered the best kept secret of widowhood. It's what NOBODY ever tells you about being a widow. You can run around like the energizer bunny and have the most smashingly wonderful life imagineable and then you'll have one single, crummy, terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day and BAM--it's like you just lost him this morning. You can take trips to spectacular destinations, retail therapy your guts out, but go home to find the washer died and BAM--it's like the funeral was yesterday.


Now, if Randy were alive, would that woman have been able to upset me so? Sure. If he were still here, would the plumbing still explode? Would the car break down? Would I still be unable to finish my thesis or sell the house? Would I still hate AT&T? Yes, yes, yes, yes, and HELL yes! It's just that being alone is sort of like building a house of cards. No matter how impressive it looks on the outside, it doesn't take much to bring the whole thing crashing down.


SO--to compensate, you learn a few things. You learn that music, movies, food, and Excedrin Migraine are acceptable weapons. ZZTop got me through his funeral, "Scrooge" will get me through next Christmas, Ted's Montana Grill will get me through my next anniversary, and a couple of Excedrin Migraine will get me through the Volunteer Orientation meeting next week that my pissed off volunteer may or may not attend.


I'll be okay. I'm a tough old broad. But if you ever hear Jimmy Buffett blaring at the threshold of pain while the kitchen trash is stuffed with empty Sticky Toffee Pudding ice cream containers and I'm spouting lines from "Blazing Saddles," check the computer. It's a sure bet the desktop finally rolled over and died....better hide the Excedrin Migraine....