An irrational paranoia
Okay, I’ll tell you what’s not cool? Not firing an employee but deleting their email address associated with the company. As my phone and mail clients are set up with all my email addresses (yeah, I have a few, so shoot me…), when I get some error about an email address not being able to connect, or my password being wrong, then I go and check the address with an email verifying tool and find that it doesn’t exist, I go and trace my mind back to the blog post I wrote two days ago.
I said it was uncool to beat around the bush and not fire an employee, just leave them hanging. If you seriously take pride in what you do, and don’t want to be seen as selfish, then you do the right thing and say, “sorry Barry, I’ve got to let you go”. What I did not appreciate was my employer saying he’d let me know if they had any work come in, then me seeing that they had a new staff member, then having my email address deleted without a word. Maybe they had reasoning, like they didn’t want to hurt my feelings? That’s lame. They probably hurt my feelings more by giving me false hope. I am severely disappointed.
Well, not anymore though, because I love my current job. /bounce
Since it’s been keeping me busy, I honestly look forward to the weekends. I managed to read some blogs today and respond to some comments – finally! :) I’ve also started using Google Reader to keep up with my favourite blogs. It’s a bit like subscriptions on YouTube for me – except this time I’m more drawn to them because I prefer reading to watching. I’m telling you, I haven’t watched any of my YouTube subscriptions since November. Pretty atrocious.
Along with that, I have changed my Gravatar and started commenting under “Georgie” instead of “Georgina”. I updated my Gravatar to reflect how much the front of my hair has grown out and how I often wear it in a ponytail because the style is getting uneven. I can’t wait to get a haircut in the next couple of months. I am positive I will be colouring my hair red. /eee
I managed to clean some of my room today and throw out some old worksheets and books from high school and my bachelor’s degree. During the week I also found some old personal diaries from when I was younger, right through to high school. I decided that it was time to let go of them. After flicking through some of the embarrassing, horrific things I wrote, I knew I wouldn’t look at them again and they wouldn’t serve much purpose, so I started to tear the pages of one of the diaries to shreds and put them in the recycling bin.
I hate putting paper in the bin without completely destroying it. I just can’t do it. With my envelopes and old mail, I have to tear them to shreds and even scribble or mutilate any financially sensitive information or passwords sent through the mail for my bank accounts. Maybe that makes sense, but I have to do it for everything. With my diaries, I don’t want anyone to read them. I don’t care if the person doesn’t know me – I don’t want anyone reading it. I get paranoid that someone will intercept my trash and come across all my rubbish, especially those printed on paper, and somehow piece them together and decipher it to find out about me. I don’t know why this bothers me when anyone can Google my name and find my blog. I can’t put anything in my trash without thinking that some lonely person who works for the council will discover it and it will tickle their curiosity while they’re on the job operating the machinery.
If it’s a subject outline from school, or an old maths worksheet, or even sheet music that I no longer want, I have to tear it to shreds. I don’t have a paper shredder, but I know there’s one at work. Even if I tear it I have this sinking feeling in my gut that someone is going to spot one strip of it, one piece of it, and start reading what’s on it, and try to find the other pieces. I feel like someone out there might find out that I’m G__rg_na L__ur, a girl who wrote in spiral notebooks about her unrequited love for someone called Matt in 2005, and swore about someone who said she loved her and she seemed to not love that person back, who studied Information Discovery and A_a__sis, who played either the piano, clarinet or violin and possibly liked Naruto or just Japanese music in general, who ate Weet Bix bites and drank skim milk and knew someone born on the 12th December 1990…
A long time ago I tore a letter to shreds; it was from someone who I was no longer on good terms with. Following a huge dispute I chose to dispose of the letter by mutilating it into tiny pieces, drenching it in water, and throwing a small amount of pieces into several different garbage bins scattered around the area.
I’m that paranoid. I think it’s irrational; heck – I fully acknowledge it’s a problem, but I get the shivers leaving something in the bin without having it destroyed. I like to recycle. My dad told me off earlier this afternoon when he saw me doing it; he told me that the council wasn’t going to be too happy with the way we were treating our garbage. After all, it’s a rule that you should bundle up newspapers; I suppose it’s the same with other paper. He said that if I wanted to tear things, I might as well put them in the normal garbage.
Is there less chance of someone looking through it then? Among squashed grapes and meat cuts and rotten apples? I wouldn’t know. 😰 I’m being silly.