When my own reputation bites me in the ass or vindicates me… I’m not sure.
On Saturday at work lots of drama – lots. Too much to explain or get in to, but the gist of the story is that a customer/student angry and left my office when I informed him I couldn’t get him any federal funding… long story. Anywhoo, not that I didn’t want to, and he didn’t leave because I was malicious – quite simply – if you default on your student loans I can’t get you money from the government until you clear default status. Dude didn’t want to hear it.
However, the drama ensued when he confronted the receptionist and another person about the “rude and uncooperative” girl upstairs who refused to help him. This led to an Olympic event of people jumping on me, and each other and in random directions in general. Everyone wet ape shit. People were calling my manager on a Saturday to get it sorted out and I hid under my desk for half an hour to keep myself from feeling attacked from every angle.
Here’s the rub, what totally chaps my ass was that I was so polite, courteous and calm despite his slurs and anger and escalation. I was sitting entirely at a point of logic until he stormed out screaming because even though I realize NOW that I was under attack – at the time I totally thought of it as a fixable situation.
The first line of thought from nearly everyone I work with who didn’t see it happen was, “Well what did you say/do/behave to make him that angry?”
I told him he was in default. But default is fixable.
The immediate assumption from one person, “Well, everyone knows you have a sort of reputation…”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“Well, let’s face it, you can be sort of… you know…”
Actually, no. I don’t know.
I suspect that I am not the golden child – okay, that’s an understatement, I’m the black-hole at the office and I know it. When my bullshit meter goes off I call it and that doesn’t endear me to many people I work with who want to stay in the dark and comfort of corporate servitude.
Yesterday my manager and I sat down and talked, “I want to hear your side,” she said. And I loved her for it.
I explained everything and said at last, “I thought about it all weekend. What could I have done differently. What could I have changed to prevent the explosion, and in the past I can think of times when I wish I would have phrased something gentler or come from a different angle. But I can honestly say, this time – my conscience is clear. I did everything by the book with primo customer service and there is nothing I know of that I could have done different to change the outcome. I feel good about this one and that’s rare for me. Because quite simple… I didn’t have the satisfaction of saying something to him. I know I wasn’t on the defensive or rude or snarky because I didn’t have a retort ready. He totally blindsided me.”
And she said, “I believe you.”
And I know she meant it.
“I believe you because you didn’t say anything to him. There’s no way you could have had anything in your posture or tone or language to set him off unless you were prepped for an attack or already on the defensive. The fact that you –of all people- didn’t have a come back – means you didn’t see it coming. So I believe you were not the instigator. Because if you were charged up we all know you, and you would have said something – because that’s what you do.”
I can’t explain how badly I needed to hear that. Because I felt like I was under fire by two separate departments and that no one would believe me that – this time – I really didn’t do anything.
PregnantNinja heard the whole thing go down and when I talked with her later she said, “I heard him yelling at you and thought, ‘he’s yelling at the wrong girl and he’s gonna get it – wait for it – wait for it –wait for it.’ and then it never happened!”
Believe me, no one is more astonished that I didn’t respond than me.
So the fact that I didn’t open my mouth may have saved my job, but it does nothing to take away that sense of violation, because I didn’t defend myself the way I usually would have. I’m not sure if my reputation is earned here. They call me a trouble-maker and say other things that sometimes hurt my feelings.
Last night a student I packaged 6 months ago stopped by my office. He walked in and sat down with a heavy sigh, “I know they moved all our files by alphabetical and that you don’t handle my file anymore.”
He leaned forward and put his arms on my desk and met my eyes, “But you are my Financial Aid Officer and I want you. What do I have to do to keep you mine? Do I need to sign a petition or something, because I don’t want anyone else touching my file but you.”
I almost started crying. I know part of his speech was flattery and the playful tone that we have established over six months of doing work on his funding. But his timing was impeccable.
“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly concerned.
“I’m fine,” I said. “You could not have picked a better day to stop by.” I grinned. “If you want then I can request to keep you. I don’t think they will mind.”
He nodded, “I would consider it a personal favor if you did.”
So when I left to go home, I had a mixture of disgust and pleasure in my work. This is not my career and we all know it, but while it pays my bills so I can write – the only joy I find in this place is helping the ones who want the help, because as it turns out… I don’t actually suck at this job, and I can make a difference for some.
And in eight hours I’ll be home writing.
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