The Island of Misfit Toys

I love my staff. Really. I do. But there are days when I can't help but wonder how this collection of misfits all landed in one place.

Don't get me wrong. They are all hard workers. Take initiative, are honest and trustworthy, and there have been times where they've saved my butt after an unexpected screw-up or unfortunate turn of events.

But, occasionally, on days like today, where their little quirks and personal trivialities just get under my skin and irritate the crap out of me.

I have one woman, who can hear just fine, unless she's taking a message. Numerous times, I've called asking for a Darcy or a Marcy, when it was Nancy. Asking for Lenore, when it was Leonard.

Then there's the project manager. He claims to block everything out unless you directly address him. I make announcements to the collective staff in the common area, and he purports not to hear them. But when something he has done or didn't do is called into question by one of my superiors, he suddenly has bionic hearing and a very focused attention and before I even get off the phone, he has the project paperwork in hand. Usually negating what I had answered to the said superiors, because of my understanding of the matter, which turns out to be slightly different than how it was actually handled on his end.

In addition, he thinks he's just got it all going on, talking to his friends on the phone using terms, like "dude, happenin,' fan-tastic" and the like, and thinks he's the perfect male specimen -- despite the fact that he weighs less than half the women I known and sports a hairdo that does not hide the fact that he's balding.

Lastly, there is a woman, older than me, who still acts like a college student. Speaking in cutesy language, giggling in a childlike manner at things that amuse her, and of course, having all her belongings packed up 5 minutes before quitting time so that the second the clock hits the quitting hour, she's out the door and on her way across the parking lot.

A lovely woman, but totally out of touch with modern day life and lifestyles, preferring instead to live in the world of children -- watching Nick at Nite with her young daugher and sacrificing any semblance of a real social life or grown up interaction.

Oh, and she refuses to dress up for anything. Even professional outings. I can only assume that its partly due to her financial situation (single mom, dead beat dad, a low salary) so she will show up at business dinners in leggings and a pilly sweater.

I've given up having her attend (partly because of the dress, partly because the daughter is always an issue), and therefore take on most of the office responsibilities.

I guess the reason I'm blogging about this -- its really starting to get to me.

I can admit that I may not be the most perfect manager in the world -- although I've heard of, and experienced worse) and I realize I could be stuck with horrendous employees -- which I"m not.

But one can only take so much. Being the only manager in the building, I miss having a peer group made up of colleagues of simliar ages and backgrounds and experience.

Come to think of it, I think that's it. Except for the hearing-impaired secretary, the personal lives of the other two are a mess. And I have to say -- from hearing their stories, they have no one to blame but themselves, as they both made horrendous personal decisions.

And I, have had nothing close to what they have gone through, and even if I had, my position prevents me from getting too close and personal with them. So perhaps that's it.

I miss comraderie; I miss lunches out with peers where we could discuss politics and current events adn personal stuff with abandon. And I miss working with normal people. In my last job (5 years) I had a similar cast of characters. And here I am again.

Surely tomorrow, it won't seem so bad. But today, it just really got to me and I needed to bitch. Since there are no other managers around, this blog got the brunt of it.