Let’s talk about my tits, more specificially what gets on them.
What’s that? You’d rather I talk about HIS tits? Hummm… I can see why you’d say that. Very lovely tits they are. I could probably go on and on about them and the thoughts in general this dude inspires. However, let’s keep those thoughts (good or bad) to ourselves and focus on what’s getting on MY (admittedly not as lovely) tits.
Humans CANNOT Really Multitask
A lot of the women I work with like to tease us guys by saying that “Men can’t multitask like women can.” I always laugh off that statement and sometimes even use it as an alibi for why I can generally only do one thing at once.
To be honest, it’s not the teasing or even the statement in itself that gets on my tits. It’s the implicit belief that humans who adapt the best can multitask. I could be running a load of laundry, watching TV and writing this blog at the same time; therefore, some would say that I can multitask. But the truth is that the moment I’m walking to or loading the washing machine, I, physical, am doing only that; the moment I’m thinking about a sentence I’m writing, I’m not really hearing what’s being said on TV. Of course, I can walk and chew gum at the same time and I can think about my next sentence as I take a drag off my cigarette, but that’s hardly high-level multitasking.
I love working with the women I work with, but another truth is that I always know when they’re typing an e-mail or doing something or another while we’re talking on the phone. They think they’re multitasking, but they’re not really. However, what gets on my tits is how we, humans, are expected to be able to do something we’re simply not designed to do. I would correctly be considered rude if I were to divide my attention between a client whom I’m training and those blasted text messages that invariably seem to come only when I’m beginning a call with a client.
Texting & Walking
Okay, so while that gets on my tits, it’s more of an irritant than anything else. But my tits almost start bleeding whenever I spot someone driving while on a portable cell phone (which is illegal here) or when I have to step away because someone is walking straight at me on the sidewalk as he or she is too damn busy texting.
People and their blasted hand-held devices: It has gotten completely out of control! Who would have thought even a mere 15 years ago that we, as a whole, couldn’t get by with those blasted things in hand all the time. I could be out having a drink late one Saturday night, and invariably there are few people who check that damn thing a few times while we’re sitting there talking. One night, I was standing behind a family to watch the fireworks and everyone in that family below the age of 14 not only had one of those things but almost completely ignored the fireworks which, by the way, were particularly good that evening.
I honestly don’t think the chatter that goes on through those devices has enriched our lives. In fact, I think that, for the most part, it has empoverished our lives …and THAT’S what gets on my tits.
After Saying X, Do Y
There are a lot of times when *I* get on my tits — more times than I care to count, actually.
I had thought after writing my last blog entry that this act, in itself, would finally get me to stop thinking about NowEx, specifically “what would he think” and “why hasn’t he even bothered to respond to my e-mail confirming that we’re now divorced. But noooooo… What did I do instead, after finishing that post? I searched for him online again and, of course, turned up very little and nothing new.
That gets on my tits because it’s almost as if I wanted him to scold me again. But why? So that I could say, “There! Final proof that I did the right thing”? So that I could find evidence of his bad-mouthing me or Canada (or both) online? To see if he died and no one thought I’d be interested to know? Come to think of it, would I be interested in knowing? And for what purpose, exactly?
Now don’t get me wrong. He doesn’t inhabit my every thought. Far from it. And it doesn’t make me feel awful as it did as recently as just a year ago. In fact, most of the time I take pleasure at taking cheap shots in reference to him, as the novelty of this “divorced” status thing still hasn’t worn out yet. But the fact NowEx comes to my mind probably 100 times more than I come to his royally gets on my tits, and I may as well admit that it does.
Bell Aliant, the biggest phone company in Atlantic Canada, is pinching too hard on my tits, too. That company remains the only reason I can’t get my landline disconnected so that I could rely exclusively on my MagicJack Plus number.
It’s quite a quirk. The 514 area code for the Island of Montréal has reached full capacity. The last exchange that hadn’t been used and that the MagicJack people took up is 900, which in the North American Numbering Plan is also the “area code” for toll numbers. Had I not been such a snob for wanting an original 514 number and settled for a number in the new 438 overlay for Montréal, I probably wouldn’t have had this problem because my exchange would have been “regular.”
Thankfully, the Pastry Monster placed a service call to Bell Aliant and they grasped what the problem was, but how long will it take to get resolved? I’d like to start saving my $87 per month sooner rather than later!
However, I did find out something good this week that acted as a balm on my tortured tits. Remember my telling you about switching to being a contributor on my pension plan and how I needed to figure out how to rejig my budget? Well, it turns out that, because I’m now contributing, I’m having to pay less income tax. So, in the end, the difference I have to make up is only slightly more — as in only $10 — than what I’ll save once my landline gets disconnected.
Therefore, it’s not like everything is getting on my tits.
In fact, work has been going amazingly well lately. It began getting much better after my sick leave last fall. Then it improved some more when I learned in my last sessions in therapy how to let go of the B.S. And since the divorce, I’ve been getting even more compliments from clients about how patient and thorough and friendly I am as I provide them training. Plus, since the beginning of the year, I consistently complete more training requests by a country mile than any of my teammates, and that makes me feel good as well because I’ve learned how to make my absence noticed, like when I’ll be on vacation soon.
I suppose those are the kind of things that prevent my tits from just falling off.