Heavy avoidance with a smattering of tears.
The ideal isn't working for me.
Wake up early, in a clean bedroom. Shower, dress professionally, do my hair in a way that shows off my talents. My hair is my résumé.
Be early for work. Complete all the daily paperwork, the morning cleaning, the setup. Be cheerful and helpful and professional. Sell, sell, sell. Sell myself as the expert. Sell my word as gold. Sell retail products. Make the customer want to return to us to be sold once again.
Set goals, work a plan, complete it all.
Have a happy, motivated staff.
Leave on time because the projected customer flow, and scheduling based on it, is correct.
Have a social life. Get a workout in. Read a novel. Do laundry.
Go to bed at a decent time.
I fail really hard at all that.
I've created a cluttered environment. Things cover everything. Clothes, shoes, books, papers, things. I have things everywhere. Stacks of folded clothes in the laundry room, in a guest room. Shoes by the door. Mail on the stairs. Cups, bobby pins, curling irons, things, on the bathroom counter. Paper, tape, scissors on the floor of another guest room.
Things I need to deal with.
I have clothes and clothes and dresses and blouses and clothes and some clothes. I have a dress code. Only black, white or grey. Only nice slacks, no leggings. Dresses no higher than the knee.
I have a dress code and an ever-evolving body. Things that I wore comfortably in February now give me hesitation in November. A 39 lb. loss sits differently in a pair of slacks than the subsequent 35 lb. gain.
I don't want to get dressed. Only three dresses fit decently.
The promotion to manager of my salon two weeks ago brought a world of thoughts. I am constantly thinking. I went from a head filled with light conversation while at work, to a head filled with worries of the individual performance of those around me, how can I help them? what motivates?
My head is filled with the daily availability of each girl, requests for days off, details of promotions, things to do, things that I should've done, and numbers. Oh the numbers!
I have a number for every situation. The number of people coming in on any given day. The total number of customers for the week. The number of sales. The percentage of retail to services. The number of minutes a customer is waiting. The number of minutes this differs from the goal number.
I'm thinking numbers and thoughts all day.
We've run out of garbage bags twice since I took on the role of "acting" manager in September. We just ran out of printer paper.
We ran out because it wasn't in my thoughts.
My thoughts. Only me. Just mine. Things don't happen if I don't think about them. Higher-ups think about other things. Those under me think about a tiny portion of the total thoughts I have to think.
If I don't think the thoughts, and we run out of something, it isn't "oops, it happens sometimes", it is "Susannah failed."
I will be 30 next summer. I can't see myself moving out of my parents house anytime soon. I just can't afford it. I can't afford anything.
I don't go to my home singles ward because of many reasons. They are really young. I am 11 years older than many of them. I have babysat many of them. I don't like being around them.
I have been going to a ward that is 31+ and very strict about who can join. I can't join.
I have gone to a singles ward that meets in the same building as my home ward. I like the ward because the boundaries are some nice apartments, and so the ward members seem to be 25+ and in careers. (Where my home ward is the 18-year-olds living in my neighborhood, who seem to all be freshmen and so sad their boyfriends are going on missions soon.)
I like this new ward so far, but I don't know if I'd go so far as to become a member of it. I don't like being the odd man out. In-the-ward-but-lives-
I am overwhelmed. Drowning just below the surface.