Pollyanna

I've been given many nicknames throughout my life. Perhaps the kindest is Pollyanna. I'm the one who always looks on the bright side. If I'm not mistaken, it was first coined in my early twenties by a coworker. That was a bipolar kind of job; I had one coworker calling me Pollyanna, and another who would hum the theme of the Wicked Witch when I walked by. I actually liked hearing dodododododoooooooooo as I walked into the shop, though he thought I was upset by it. I let him think I was mad; it made him feel better to get mad.

My primary responsibility at that job was QC, so if there was something wrong with something I inspected, it was my job to take it back to the shop and ask the guys to fix it. I liked it when he would hum that song; it meant I was doing my job well. He didn't see it that way; I was creating more work for him by making him do something he'd already done. No matter how many times, or how many ways I said that if it were done right the first time, he wouldn't see my face, he just did it to get it done. What did irritate me was that he was good at what he did and was capable of so much better. Looking back, I wonder if did it to see it he could “get away with it”, or if he really cared that little.

My way of thinking has always been that if you don't have time to do it right the first time, you certainly don't have time to redo it. Many of the guys at that job didn't feel that way. In fact, I've found that many people do things that are “good enough” as opposed to doing it well the first time. Maybe that's where I honed my perfectionist tendencies, and my performing well at the last minute. Or maybe it was at the flower shop, where you had one chance to get it right. Anyway, though I understand people are different, I couldn't understand why the guys didn't see things my way.

I'm big on trying to understand the why of things. I rarely figure it out, especially when it comes to people. “Why did he say that?” Why did he do that?” “Why isn't this done?” Why? Maybe focusing on the why allows me to get past the fact that it was done or not done or said in the first place. “Why do I have MS?” I ask not in the spirit of “why me/poor me”, but why, as in what triggered the biological response inside of my body that caused my immune system to see “normal” cells as something to attack.

I'm still wondering why I decided to start blogging again. Maybe focusing on the why will let me see past the actual blogging part. Maybe.

Until next time, I will ask you this:

Why?