meeting expectations

End of year performance management review. Oh yeah, this year I am "meeting expectations."   I am not a "meet expectations" chick.  I "exceed expectations." In fact, I am a "far exceeder." Now the fact that a new manager took over this year and my old managers have both loved me might have something to do about this.  The fact that I work with a group of A+ people, yeah that too has something to do with it. Because I Never just "met expectations." My coworker (one person in particular) "meets expectations." And I hate to be lumped in that group. And there is a difference if my work between the other persons:


"They" read the group newsletter.  I write, edit and publish it. I spend a good 5-7 hours a month making this happen. There are days that it has to be out so I stay at work 1-2 hours after the end of my shift to make sure it happens (because of the late submissions, sometimes I have to stay late.  Oh and the person submitting the late article, the person judging me as "meeting expectations."


"They" show up to the team building activities that happen.  I help plan, set up, and contribute to more spendy aspects of the event and clean up too. Oh yeah, so others are able to participate, I cover the clinic so "they" can eat and collaborate with all of the team. And the judge of my "expectation" level....yeah well.


"They" make mistakes of consequence causing others to have to re-work. I don't. If making mistakes is "meeting expectations?"  Maybe I really "does not meet expectations."


Overtime? Sure! 2-4 hours weekly, plus work through lunch, see patients as soon as the bell rings, and tackle the complex issues that arise frequently.  Oh and a go to person when questions arise when the judge is not in this location.

Sick call? Nope not my style.



So OK I am kvetching now. But really? "Meet expectations?" Really I know there are people who do a hell of a lot more than I do, but to be lumped into the same group of "meets expectations" I am more than offended.


Or doing too much.

time

Time passes.  Of course it does.  But it amazes me how fast it is happening. Almost 8700 days have passed since my first name changed to mom. How my life changed with that! No longer could I even go to the bathroom without a little voice wondering where I was, or screaming for me to come out.

Ten years ago, my life was redefined. I shed an old shell and became new. I changed, but did not change at all. But the world saw me differently, and I had to accept that viewpoint. And by looking from that precipice, I was able to reach that life that I had only visualized.

Fifteen months later, I left the mountains and moved to the sound and lake. And once again redefined. Stretching wings and brain cells into a new definition of my old career. And became an adult. Again.  Buying a real adult house with real adult furniture and very real adult responsibilities and bills. But best of all the full time partner in a real adult partnership.

Six years, four months and twenty-three days later it was officially recognized.

And today a new phase. The starting of the passings. The first loss of someone in the generation before me. My aunt.  Not particularly a close relation, but very close to my mother. I feel sad for her because I have a sister that I really love and feel close.  As close as we can be living on opposite coasts.

Rest well auntie, no more pain.
 

Yo B***h!

Yeah how bad am I?  I agree, pretty vanilla pudding. Not like the "breaking bad" kind.  But dang what a great idea. Even though I don't have the guts to try anything remotely illegal.  Remember me? The daughter of a Marine who even in his 75 year old spinal stenosed and diabetic neuropathic riddled body could beat the living plasma out of me for even thinking about wavering from the straight and narrow.

But over the last two weekends, hubs and I have consumed almost the entire four seasons of "Breaking Bad" on Netflix. Count it up, that's well over 40 hours of mayhem and debauchery.


I am addicted.


So is Herb.


On our walks we pass a motor home and we discuss how we could buy that to"cook" in.  When asked if he want's some breakfast, "yo bi**h" is the reply. We spend the millions we can make if we retired to the dark side. 


Or we could retire to the grey side and garden for a retirement?  We have discussed that as well. Although I have to say, given the skills we already have, maybe we should just stick to the vino, where we are already so well versed.  We know the plan for producing a decent vint, and can easily and legally consume, as long as no sales are involved. Perhaps that will be well enough for us.


If not, I am really great at swearing!