So my new boss made a comment to me that rubbed me the wrong way. He said, “Lee Ann, we need to work on your stamina.”
Seriously? What’s wrong with my stamina? Why are we even discussing my stamina? Do you have any idea what I’m capable of? Everything I’ve done and everywhere I’ve been and all that I’ve accomplished? The hours I’ve worked? The miles I’ve walked on my fifty-plus-year-old feet? The situations I’ve handled? The circumstances I’ve overcome? Do you have any idea what it’s like to struggle with insomnia? To try to cope with other people’s bad choices? To find ways to be able to look at myself in the mirror when I’ve kept my mouth shut over things that are so very very wrong on so many levels and still get fired for not “fitting into the company culture”?
There’s nothing wrong with my stamina. It’s my interest in this particular job that needs work. I’ve been in sales for almost thirty years now and I lack interest in going door-to-door slinging the latest in office technology (copiers, yep, there’s a conversation-killer at parties).
It’s amazing how lively the dialogue in your head can be.
Big sigh and a yawn. I need the benefits, so I sat up a little straighter and made a polite neutral acknowledgement sort of noise.