Waves of fragility

Twice today – no, make that three times – I heard from Human Resources that I’m doing it wrong.

1. The performance review I submitted for one employee is all wrong because it doesn’t comply with a new directive I never heard about (and which shouldn’t apply to this employee anyway, but never mind) … and they are all due today so I have to redo it right now. Preferably in the next 10 minutes. And get her to sign the new one too, even though it means scoring her lower than the one we already finished.
2. I’m trying to fill another position and the recruiter sent me some resumes, but I wasn’t supposed to call them myself for the phone interview. I was supposed to let the recruiter schedule my phone interview for me. Also some of the things I said in feedback about one of the candidates (nothing derogatory!) should never be said in writing.
3. After I re-did the performance review up in point 1, the same lady called me to complain that I had still done it wrong, just because I tried to salvage my employee’s bonus in the rewrite. It’s not like we’re talking about a lot of money here, so I honestly think she is straining at gnats. But no, she insisted volubly, it has nothing to do with the dollars. It’s that my ratings are somehow going to screw up the purity of her system!

 

Each time, when the whole thing was over, I had to close my door and just sit there. I felt like a little boy scolded by the principal for doing something foolish, something stupid, something obstinate. I felt humiliated and utterly incapable of mastering my job. I felt waves of fragility crashing through me. I fantasized about quitting, running away, hiding somewhere, … anything to avoid dealing with this crap even one minute longer.

 

Of course I did no such thing. I remembered the meditation instruction to “practise with difficult emotions” by using those emotions as a meditation object. But I didn’t follow it. I couldn’t think how to follow it. Instead I just sat there and breathed evenly for a while until I felt up to the next task. At the very least, though, I knew better than to take the feelings seriously. At the very least, I understood that they were just feelings and that I didn’t have to believe what they were telling me.

 

But it was no fun.