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I feel diva-ish this morning, if only because I have been doing a steady stream of hot tea, throat spray, and painkillers...ok, so it's only Tylenol. I work in three hours and my throat is staging a protest as we speak. This protest started mid-shift yesterday.
Who knew that talking eight hours a day could be so exhausting?! As a matter of fact, for those of you out there who know me personally and have wonder publicly or privately if I was even capable of shutting my mouth...I do believe I have reached my limit.
Now off hand I don't know what I logged. I know last time I had checked my stats I had 36 calls, average almost 8 minutes, and I still had two hours to go. I know it doesn't seem like much but that 8 minutes is the average, I think my longest call was around 30 minutes. And I barely communicated with anyone else. I was too busy to take my IMs and I didn't get to verbally say 'hi' to the gal behind me until after 5pm. I really didn't even think about my call stats until after I was able to chit-chat.
If anything, I should stop talking to other people so that I can maintain my delusions of normalcy. I am not trying to be any sort of superstar. Really, I am not. Honestly, at one point yesterday, I thought I was doing a really horrible job. Seriously, I had issues and a stack of posty that needed attention. Turns out that my failures are a level of success that some people aspire to. Let me tell you, that's a humbling place and apparently one of the things in my life I've never been able to handle properly.
Do I go through life with a poker face to blend? Or do follow that path that leads to people referring to me as some sort of savant and only coming to me when then need technical assistance? I don't like the latter path. It's been my experience throughout my entire life that a)people do not believe that this level of detail-orientation and awesomeness requires no work or thought on my part and b)because people believe a)they tend to treat me like I am some sort of cocky DB because...well, if I knew that I would have solved this a long time ago.
God gave me this wonderfully twisted brain that latches on to information like leeches to unprotected skin. I am such a bank of worthless and worthwhile information that I sometimes question if I am a robot or droid or something. I have always tried to assimilate, well, at least since I was 15 or. Yep, that fateful week at gifted/talented camp where when a smartassed college kid asked me and the group of girls I with what are "gifts" were. They answered with what program they were in, me, no I've always been diva, so I looked him in the eye and answered "Gab" and kept on walking.
The good news is the tea is working so I won't lose that gift this morning. The bad news...I am not really sure what to do with all this. Other people there in the temp pool, genuinely need this job way more than I do. I can't really dial back my lack of effort, unless I just stop showing up. I am not inclined to quit because it's actually a pretty enjoyable job...plus we need the money.
What's a girl to do? So much internal drama and it's only Tuesday!!
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