Punches For Work

Friday did not start well. Les called and accused me of not paying attention to what a board member had said the day before about meeting with one of the directors. That was not true; in talking to the board member after Les's call, I was assured I hadn't misread their attentions at all. My desk was filled with work that I was behind on because Les had me out at the south side for two days the previous week. Les' comments about him not feeling he could depend on me to get things done, while I was in the middle of playing catch up were not appreciated. I pointed out how he had me taking two hour rides out to the south side -- on the abysmal public transportation system -- to do the south side program's office work. There are four support staff persons in place over there. "I've been running around for years," he retorted. "You're driving a car," I thought. I practically hung up on him.

The rest of the day went downhill, as I developed a headache and my lower back throbbed for the rest of the day. At four o'clock, I'd had enough. I left Les an email and a voice mail on his office phone that I was going home. I had no interest in actually talking to him live. He had already raised my blood pressure once that day. I wasn't going to go to the gym, but I had a chance to rest for awhile after I got home. Besides, I knew I had to take my bag out of the locker. The handwraps and scarf I wear in the gym had to be washed. Good thing I decided to go, because the heavy bags were perfect for me to take out my frustrations about work on. Memories of Les' smart aleck comments that morning fueled the hardest punches I could slam into the bag. If Les thinks I'm so damned incompetant and stupid, why does he keep me around? Obviously, I wouldn't have lasted at my job for six years if I wasn't doing things right most of the time. Unfortunately, Les excels at saying the wrong damn thing at the wrong damn time. Then he has the nerve to get an attitude because I have an opinion. I'm not about to make it my problem that he has a problem because I speak up.

Jordan did a sparring drill with Nick. Nick accidently poked Jordan in the eye. Jordan complained about it, even though Nick quickly apologized for it. Jordan wouldn't let it go. He kept grumbling about it, even after the sparring drill was done. Steve and JJ told Jordan that such things happen in the ring, and that he has to get used to it. Jordan didn't appear to be satisfied by what they said. I wondered what is Jordan going to do when he gets hit in a full-on sparring session, or in a real match? Whine like a little kid?

I noticed that Peggy did not come in on Friday. Deb wasn't there either, but she told me on Wednesday that she had another committment that night. Dan came in, and I was glad. I thought I had scared him off with talk of the past knockouts in the gym.

Arin and I worked on the pads. I really like her enthusiasm for wanting to learn technique. She told me the other day that she wanted to work on her footwork more, too. Overall, it was a very good workout, which once again, was something I needed.

The exertion made me feel better physically, but not emotionally. The disagreement Les and I had still ticks me off. I don't like to get angry often; I have a temper, and it takes days for me to cool off. It takes an even longer time to forget the arguement. That's never a good thing.