I had a busy day yesterday. It’s my day off. Do you see a disconnect here? I purposely do not schedule any recurring activities on Tuesdays. It allows me clean my house, decompress, bake, do fun things. If however, I have some business to do or make-up lessons to schedule, they go on Tuesdays.
This was my schedule for Tuesday: 5:00 lesson
This was what actually happened.
- 8:00 Write an article for the news letter
- 10:15 Study group for Bible Study
- 12:00 Gym (for a whole 15 minutes instead of my regular hour)
- 1:00 Mentoring session
- 3:00 Follow up with client
- 4:30-9:30 Toastmasters training session
I had to cancel the 5:00 lesson. During the training session, I led a discussion among the treasurers and secretaries. I presented some training to the group of about 48, and they had no PA system. They also had no sound for the video clips so that totally messed up the session on judging by the poor guy at the end of the program. He was supposed to have some recordings of some award winning speeches and we were to practice judging using the methods and the sensibilities gleaned from his presentation. After that, since hubby and I took separate cars, we were to just head home, but no. Our logistics manager is in the postal service and they run him ragged this time of year. The next event is Saturday a distance away and we volunteered to transport all the necessary equipment for him. We had to load up the car with coolers and containers and banners and easels, and then we also had the leftover sandwiches from the night’s training.
I am a “T” personality, or “Green” or whatever Meyers-Briggs classifies me. That means I’m most comfortable one on one, but even more comfortable squirreled away in my little office behind mounds of junk just working on my computer or reading. Big crowds and lots of personal contacts make me anxious (?) so I have to decompress for a while. It tires me out!
I enjoyed the study session, no one says much, and we just study and fill out the questions. I don’t interact with anyone at the gym. When I mentor, that takes some concentration. I have to ask questions that bring my mentee to greater awareness. Sometimes I fall back into teacher mode instead of asking questions so he thinks for himself. When I do that, I see his eyes start to glaze over, and have to work on bringing him back to himself with some questions. It mentally exhausts me. Then I went to follow up on a client, and I love this woman to death. She’s fun and lively and unstoppable. But she’s a client so I need to make sure she’s on the right track. I have to ask the questions and get the answers from her so I know what things I need to do to make sure she stays on the right track.
I headed out too late and got to the training session 15 minutes later than I intended. I facilitated the small group of Treasurers and Secretaries, and to tell you the truth, they didn’t have much to offer. They were forced into the office because someone had to do it and they were “voluntold.” This office is an “easy” office, not much for you to do. Liars. So we discussed the ways that we contribute to the club that no one in any other position can. Morale went up, and we weren’t lowly Treasurers/Secretaries. No, we were the power behind the throne! (Insert evil laugh here.)
Getting them to contribute was like pulling teeth. Then they asked me to speak for the group since I was the only one taking notes. Did you get that? 3 Secretaries there and I was the only one taking notes. I had some rudimentary ideas that we’d discussed, but I’ve been doing these training sessions since I joined TM in 2008. I expanded on the stuff I had written down so we sounded amazing.
Then my part of the presentation came up and I was helping people get started on a new educational program. The only thing they remembered about my presentation was the word, “SAVE.” In truth, the presentation I gave was written by someone else. They wanted consistency through out the training sessions: 2 here, 2 there, and 1 way the heck out there. Then we had an interactive session, and one of the activities didn’t go through. We had to tap dance waiting for it to show up, and it never did. We would have answered questions, but there were only a couple. They didn’t know what they didn’t know.
By the end of the night, I’m REALLY short tempered and anxious to go home. I still have to be nice and smile and laugh. I helped my hubby get stuff out to the car. He had the sandwiches on top of the cooler and the storage bin. I figured to put the sandwiches in my car so I could get them into the house. I opened my door (which was not locked) and asked for the sandwiches. At this time I discovered that my hubby was also anxious and short tempered. “Close that door and open my car door!” So I did. Then I grabbed the sandwich plate and squirreled it into my car and took off. The cooler and the big storage unit, his briefcase, the banner, the easel and the paper went into his car.
When I get home, I jump out of my car. (OK that’s funny because you’ve never seen me jump out of any car!) This is how it actually goes: open car door, stick foot out, watch as car door closes and try to catch it before it cuts my foot off at the calf. Re-open the door, and get second foot out, and again catch the door as it’s about to hit me in the head as I lean out. Watch the colorful blue smoke and sparks emanate from the driver’s side, the paint peels and the window cracks from the vehemence of my cursing. I finally get out of the car, hobble over to the passenger’s side, carefully open the door and grab the sandwiches. Close the door and it catches my coat. My hands are full of purse, notebook and a big tray of sandwiches. More colorful adjectives and vindictive curses escape my lips. More melted paint. I get the door unlatched, and it immediately closes on my coat again. The temptation to throw the bag, the sandwiches and the notebook rises, but gets subordinated by a new stream of invective. Re-open the car door, pull coat out, move away from door and close it with foot. March into house. Deposit purse and notebook, carry sandwiches to kitchen, return to entryway and remove coat, take phone from purse. Stomp into living room and look for murder and mayhem on Netflix. Watch 2 episodes of Glee. Yes. I was looking for Frontier, but I’d seen all of those, and all the Criminal Minds, and all the CSI and the Vikings, and and and…Glee was the only thing left. There was not nearly enough blood. I went to bed slightly unsatisfied.