What end’s up?
At work, when I think I have the whole emotional thing under control, my Manager tells me I’m going to do a tasting for Regional Managers on their surprise visit to the store. One product, my choice. Barely tasted myself!
Later, my shift leader tells me otherwise; four of the same product, different flavors with which I’m not familiar, then another product altogether.
Rumination kicks in, I fight back mightily, trying not to worry, take it on faith, start praying, que sera sera, I can only do my best, serve customers, handle senior employee’s requests, somehow try to prepare the product, deal with the twenty people in the line extending out the door.
In the hustle and frustration of getting my kids to school in the a.m., the bickering and noise and struggle to keep things apace (I made my shift about a minute late), my irritability should have told me. I leave my medication at home. No worries, I’ll be okay. Things going smoothly, I’m coasting along managing most tasks (getting up to speed finally at the store), then the irrepressible need to cry kicks in. Run out to the back door after checking with the shift lead.