Guess What I Heard?

One of the things I've been responsible for at my job for the last few years has been to conduct what we call "new employee orientation." In a nutshell, that means I help the new kids on the block fill out the perfunctory paperwork that accompanies a new job and introduce them to the way we do things in our office. A lot of what I say during the time I spend with a new employee is nuts and bolts kinds of stuff like how to fill out withholding statements or how to set the alarm for the building or where the coffee cups are kept ... important stuff for sure, and I always take great care to make sure I impart all the information the new employee needs to know. But there's something else I do during a new person's orientation time ... I try my very best to instill in them the unique spirit that makes our company so incredibly special. I always spend some time telling our new folks that we are a family at SHS ... that we look out for each other ... that we help each other ... that we care about each other ... that we're a family.

Since I brought in doughnuts for everyone at work when I shared the news almost three years ago that Matt and Becca were expecting their first child, I decided it was only fitting to do something special when I made the announcement that Johnson baby number two is due in late July. I'm sort of semi-famous around the office for my layered bean dip dish ... so semi-famous that one gal in the office requests it every year for her birthday celebration. Once I got the go-ahead from Matt and Becca to let other people know they're pregnant, I sent a meeting maker and asked everyone to join me in the kitchen ... a meeting maker that was quite intriguing to my co-workers. I simply requested their presence for a quick meeting and said that I would provide the chips, layered dip and reason for the meeting. Though I knew that people would be curious as to what I was going to tell them at the meeting, I certainly didn't anticipate that my elusiveness would cause such a flurry of chatter among my friends at work.

I had sent my meeting maker late in the evening the day before the meeting, and it wasn't long after I arrived at work the next morning that I realized the chatter about the reason for the meeting had already escalated at breakneck speed. The question "I wonder what Terrie's meeting is about?" had quickly morphed into "Guess what I heard?" as person after person attempted to pry information from me. The incorrect answers to the "Guess what I heard?" question pretty much covered every possibility known to mankind. Some were lighthearted in nature and caused me to laugh out loud ... "I heard Terrie's getting married" ... "I heard Terrie's moving to Canada and wants to telecommute" ... "I heard Terrie won the lottery" ... and my personal favorite ... "I heard Terrie is gay." Others had a more serious tone ... "I heard Terrie got another job and is resigning" ... "I heard Terrie is sick and going out on medical leave" ... "I heard Terrie is taking early retirement." (For the record, young pups, I'm nowhere near old enough to retire!) It was more than interesting to me, however, that, to my knowledge anyway, no one's "Guess what I heard?" answer involved me announcing I was going to be a grandma again.

As I wrote in my previous post, I've been a bit down lately ... hmmm ... that's probably not a totally accurate description. When I hide out at my desk with my headphones on, don't want to talk to anyone, have a difficult time looking people in the eye, feel like I don't fit or belong anywhere ... when I have to fight to not come home and go straight to bed, that's a little more than "a bit down." And for the record, I hate it when I feel this way ... I hate it, hate it, hate it ... I hate how it makes me feel, and I hate even more how it makes those around me feel. My heart ached yesterday when a friend at work said, "Everyone is happier when you're happy, and they're asking me if you're OK." And when the same friend said to me today, "People look to you, Terrie ... they look to you to set the tone here, and they worry when you're so sad," I seriously wanted to crawl under a rock and hide out until my smile returns.

My friend said a lot of things yesterday and today ... a whole, whole lot of things. But guess what she didn't say? Not once did she say the "Guess what I heard?" question had been floated by anyone in our office as to why I've been so sad. And you know why she didn't say anything about that particular question? Because it hasn't been asked. That question hasn't been asked because the folks I work with know me ... they know me, and they know the difference between me sending a somewhat mysterious meeting-maker invitation and me hiding out, being deathly quiet, staring at the floor, feeling like an outsider and being emotionally and mentally exhausted. And even more than knowing that difference is the fact that they respect the boundaries that accompany it. No, that's not correct ... it's not the difference nor its accompanying boundaries that my work friends respect ... it's me. They respect me enough and care about me enough to understand that I'm hurting. They respect me enough and love me enough to be patient when the sad washes through me like it has over the last week ... they respect and care about and love me enough to wait for the real me, the true me, the happy me to return. 

I wore my Love Thy Neighbor shirt today, thinking perhaps it would help to raise my spirits ... let's just say that plan didn't work as well as I had hoped it would. As I drove home this evening, I kept thinking about the phrase "desperate times call for desperate measures." And as I thought about those words, I heard the words of my friend today ... "People look to you, Terrie ... they look to you to set the tone here." I think Monday might need to be a suspenders and shiny shoes day for me ... I think it just might need to be. You know why? Of course you do. Because it's pretty darn close to impossible to be sad when you're wearing suspenders and shiny shoes ... geez ... even I know that, friends ... even I know that.