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2003-11-20 The most aggressive of the aggressive types stalking and stumbling and swearing around looking for someone to blame. I had tried to clear the print queue and print out these striations of bloomberg files that were making it hard for people to find their own stuff. We all try to help out sometimes. He was yelling and cussing and pacing behind me looking for who did it. And i said it softly at first but he didn't hear me. And then again: I did it. And everyone went quiet around me and the marine. I offered to copy and reorder things but he said I couldn't.
All this when Russ had come to pick me up. He could tell I was just about to cry. I motioned for Trevor to come outside with me. I had to talk to someone for a second. Just to tell them I was trying to help, that I could of reordered, that I'm not trying to make enemies. Trevor laughed and said the young marine was a little dramatic with a tight deadline. As I was making my way to the car i saw the young marine around the corner chain smoking and was pacing around where trevor and I were talking. I felt horrible I couldn't talk directly to the marine but he was still stalking about and wasn't ready to talk. The feeling he was listening in. Very horrible indeed when I rarely indulge in that ever. I kept quiet the car ride home and when we finally got in I hugged Russ for a long time and just started heaving tears out. For a while the kind of deep rutted crying that leaves you exhausted and unable to think about what was bothering you in the first place. It's morning now. And here I go again into these quiet battles. |