A heart three sizes too small
Last night I made our store manager cry.
I didn't mean to, I swear. She had forgotten about a conversation we had had a few days earlier, a conversation that didn't even matter in the long run, just would have clarified a simple question she had for me that I apparently answered with great bit of attitude. Oops. I mean, the conversation lasted maybe 45 seconds, and I didn't give it a second thought. Ten minutes later she came out of the bathroom in tears, pulled me aside, and said through a sob, "I just want you to know that you really upset me," and went on to tell me how much I hurt her feelings. I wanted to die. At that moment, I would have sharpened the knife for her to insert into my heart, because I honestly felt like the meanest, coldest, most insensitive person on earth. At Christmas.
I can't remember the last time I felt so bad - it was probably during my Mean Girl days in high school. I apologized profusely, tried to explain that it wasn't a big deal and that I didn't mean to sound so harsh if I did. She's been under an enormous stress with the holidays and had already cried once that day, so she was willing to accept my apology and move on. But I didn't stop feeling bad. In fact, I couldn't feel anything but mortified, utterly ashamed at myself that I upset someone to the point of tears, so I apologized to her again once I could get my thoughts together and say something that would hopefully sound meaningful. Even though we talked things through, I went to bed last night feeling absolutely terrible, the most horrible person to walk the face of the earth.
It's bad enough that I could make someone so upset with just the tone of my voice or the look on my face, but isn't it just as awful that I wasn't even aware I was doing so in the first place? My first instinct is to blame the New York in me. For seven years I worked with some of the toughest bosses, the toughest clients, and once I learned to let the abuse roll off my back, I wore it proudly, like a badge of honor. That's the only way to get by in New York. But geography is no excuse. There's no room for that kind of attitude at my current job, and even if there was, shouldn't I try to be better than that? I should, which was why I apologized twice last night and once again today over email. And things are fine. But not in my head.
Moving to LA was supposed to help me become more patient, more laid back, and I suppose it has in some ways. But if I can't blame geography on my weaknesses, can I expect it to help give me strength?
For Christmas I would like Mean Girls on DVD and a lump of coal in my stocking. For New Years I would like to be a better person.
I didn't mean to, I swear. She had forgotten about a conversation we had had a few days earlier, a conversation that didn't even matter in the long run, just would have clarified a simple question she had for me that I apparently answered with great bit of attitude. Oops. I mean, the conversation lasted maybe 45 seconds, and I didn't give it a second thought. Ten minutes later she came out of the bathroom in tears, pulled me aside, and said through a sob, "I just want you to know that you really upset me," and went on to tell me how much I hurt her feelings. I wanted to die. At that moment, I would have sharpened the knife for her to insert into my heart, because I honestly felt like the meanest, coldest, most insensitive person on earth. At Christmas.
I can't remember the last time I felt so bad - it was probably during my Mean Girl days in high school. I apologized profusely, tried to explain that it wasn't a big deal and that I didn't mean to sound so harsh if I did. She's been under an enormous stress with the holidays and had already cried once that day, so she was willing to accept my apology and move on. But I didn't stop feeling bad. In fact, I couldn't feel anything but mortified, utterly ashamed at myself that I upset someone to the point of tears, so I apologized to her again once I could get my thoughts together and say something that would hopefully sound meaningful. Even though we talked things through, I went to bed last night feeling absolutely terrible, the most horrible person to walk the face of the earth.
It's bad enough that I could make someone so upset with just the tone of my voice or the look on my face, but isn't it just as awful that I wasn't even aware I was doing so in the first place? My first instinct is to blame the New York in me. For seven years I worked with some of the toughest bosses, the toughest clients, and once I learned to let the abuse roll off my back, I wore it proudly, like a badge of honor. That's the only way to get by in New York. But geography is no excuse. There's no room for that kind of attitude at my current job, and even if there was, shouldn't I try to be better than that? I should, which was why I apologized twice last night and once again today over email. And things are fine. But not in my head.
Moving to LA was supposed to help me become more patient, more laid back, and I suppose it has in some ways. But if I can't blame geography on my weaknesses, can I expect it to help give me strength?
For Christmas I would like Mean Girls on DVD and a lump of coal in my stocking. For New Years I would like to be a better person.
posted by Lori @ 10:07 PM
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