I think I’m a generally good-natured boss, one who is patient, understanding and kind. This is how I usually am at work, until I’m very tired, then things kind of fall apart. Most of the time I’m very well rested and a delight to be around (if I do say so myself), but the last few weeks of working just about every day had finally taken its toll on Saturday. I was supposed to be off, but a staffer had a flight snafu and couldn’t come in, so I had to work. I was exhausted, cranky and short-tempered, and I practically terrorized my youngest staffer, Lizzy, who had the poor misfortune of working alone with me.
Ours is a small store, 1400 square feet, which means that we are in close proximity to each other if we’re by the register. I find that when I’m tired, I’m very sound-sensitive and everything seems very loud. Poor Lizzy was making a new signboard which she does very well and extremely quickly, but it wasn’t fast enough to not have me barking at her, “Can you stop with the squeaking?” She fled and finished the signboard balanced on her knee so using the markers wouldn’t make as much noise. I felt bad but couldn’t seem to rein myself in. I vowed to be better, with limited success.
I brought my dog to the store and she was sleeping on the floor right by the counter. Lizzy and I were receiving heaps of books. Lizzy was putting the books on the counter as she she received them. I watched the stack grow larger and larger and more precarious with each book added. The stack was right above my dog. I noticed this and turned to her and said in all seriousness, “If those books fall on my dog, you’re fired.” Poor thing turned bright red and moved all the books to the back counter. I could see myself being somewhat out of control but seemed utterly powerless to stop. Then I apologized. Lizzy, to her credit, turned and said, “Well, you were very clear.” I chuckled at that and explained that I was on literally on fumes.
It was one of those days when I should have either stayed home (not an option) or just worked in my office. But we were busy with customers and the inevitable Saturday morning birthday party rush. Now, of course, all the books were on the back counter leaving us no place to wrap. I was grousing about that, even though I was the reason there was no room. I apologized again. The day was saved by a good friend bringing us pizza for lunch and the arrival of Sandy, who had managed to get on an earlier flight and be at work by noon.
So, after sharing pizza my staffers suggested that I go home and take a nap. I fled before I did something else that warranted another apology.