How Would You Like To Be Remembered?

Before he died of cancer, one of my heroes (Leroy Sievers) asked his readers to tell him how they'd like to be remembered. I watched a bit of his memorial service yesterday and thought some more about it.

I'd like people to remember all the times when I could have judged, but didn't. I'd like them to remember my warmth. I'd like them to remember the times I made them laugh or shared with them one of those random facts no one else would know.

I wish there were someone who could share, when the time comes, how hard my life has been and how I rose above it, time and time again. That's really the greatest accomplishment of my life. I have thrived in an environment that could have destroyed me. My cousins survived, but I triumphed over bad genes and dismal nurturing.

I hope they remember how brave I've been. Not because I've lived through breast cancer. Not because I lived through my dad's suicide. I've been courageous by refusing let go of compassion, no matter what. It's a work in progress, letting go of anger and resentment, but I continue to put one foot in front of the other.

When all is said and done, there aren't many choices to make in life. You're born into certain circumstances and, as terrible as things eventually may get, all you can do is keep going. As I've said before, no one gets to call in sick to life. We wake up every day and try to get through it, no matter what. That's all we can do.

Getting up and going on doesn't require courage. Maintaining humor, gentleness, compassion and integrity--for those qualities I've had to reach deep inside. I have had to bring my attention back day after day. They've tested my mettle.

I wish people would remember that about me. How would you like to be remembered?

Do I Look Like An Accountant?

Do I look like an accountant to you? Okay, that's a rhetorical question since I've never posted a photo anywhere. The answer is, no I do not.

I spent virtually all day yesterday doing Bags' job. We need to cultivate new business and have an opportunity to work 0n a project in New York. The problem is, in order to do that, we have to know the potential costs to factor into billing rates. I did my part of the investigation--I found tax information and instructions on registering as a foreign corporation. I generally handle all of the activities required to get us going in a new state.

I attempted to give the tax rates to Bags, but he had no interest in pursuing it. I tried to give it to him twice. Owner decided I should give it to him. That set off a flurry of copying and highlighting and flagging. I have to tell you, I am incapable of understanding a lot of it, having never filed franchise taxes before. Again, not an accountant.

Meanwhile, the Superhighway decided to retrieve the mail from the post office and I was inundated with bills that have to be entered into the Famous Endless Database. Furthermore, Hemorrhoid Guy and I have been planning to change the purchase order process for one of our clients. That means I need to find out how to establish access privileges so Our Man On The Scene doesn't accidentally delete all of the records for the past year. Once they're gone, they are most definitely gone, unless he calls our IT Boy to recover the records. Do I trust him to do that? Well, no.

Finally, Owner decided it was imperative to get some specific information regarding a workers' comp accident that occurred two years ago. There have been lots of injured bodies under the bridge since then, so more scrambling about to compile the relevant data.

After that, home to do yoga and cook red snapper for dinner. I've been trying to finish a novel for the past three weeks, but after my day yesterday, I started to fall asleep at around 8:00 as I read.

Last rhetorical question: Do I look like a superwoman? I think you know the answer to that.

Not So Brave

I haven't been reading comments or emails lately. I've been sharing difficult material and, frankly, sometimes I lack the courage to read responses. Please continue to comment and know that, whenever I'm brave enough, I'll read and respond.

Thank you for caring enough to say what's on your mind. I may be scared of that that is, but I'm grateful you join me in my explorations of pain.

Snitch in a Snit

So what, you ask, is going on in Crazy Land? Everything is still in an uproar. Owner isn't speaking to Bags. This is a permanent situation. I have to say, it's really peculiar when the Owner and the Comptroller aren't speaking. If we had a process, things would be slowed down considerably. Luckily, we have no processes.

I had my own frustrating series of conversations with Bags. Last week, our guy in the out of state office called me and asked me to do some research on the costs of doing business in New York. He's been hounded by some project managers to submit a bid and, of course, in order to do that, we need to know the upfront costs. Out Of State wanted to know if Bags had asked me to do research. Um, no.

I told him I'd get right on it and, by the end of the day, I had some pretty good information on which to make some decisions. This being really Bags' bailiwick, I sallied forth to tell him I'd gathered the information. Would he like a copy?

"Out of State thinks this is magic," he replied.

Hmmm...what exactly am I to make of that response? I had no idea what to say and decided to give it another try in a day or two. When I did, the answer was the same. Now normally, I'd take my little papers and throw them in the trash. This time was different. We need to expand the business and this was a personal invitation to grow.

I did the thing I try most to avoid. I had a conversation with Owner about my quandary. Bags clearly doesn't want to go down this path and I clearly think we should. I recounted my encounters with the Comptroller and posed the same question to him as I have to you. What am I supposed to make of that?

"The answer is that Bags has a serious attitude that's going to get his ass fired if it doesn't change soon." He glowered. "Give the information to me."

I told him I'd highlight the critical information and get it to him. The little voice inside my head is screaming, "snitch! snitch!" If that's what I am, then so be it, I guess. Would I like for people to continue to be employed (especially me)? Oh yeah.

I can't wait for this particular poop to hit the fan. I'm going to be the most unpopular kid on the block with a whole group of my co-workers. Of course, I'll be a hero to most of the others. Either way, life's a bitch and this is the least of my problems.

Signing off now. Your friend, the snitch.