pms666.com

PMS and the workday don’t mix. I fully admit this. If you happen to work with me in some way shape or form during this volatile time of the month, my sincerest (and I do mean SINCEREST) apologies. I thought it’d be kind of fun to illustrate some of my classic reactions to work-related issues with and without PMS.

SITUATION

I’m one-day late with a deliverable, although in my defense I had two days off in the last week AND got three other things out to the client on short notice. The client says nothing about what I’ve managed to accomplish, and sends me a one-line e-mail pointing out the missed deadline while stating I must try to do better.

Without PMS:

I apologize politely and promise to have the item out to the client first thing in the morning, which requires I work until midnight that night. No problem, I’m all about customer service!

With PMS:

I write a venomous email filled with defensiveness and ire only to promptly delete it and write another, only to delete that. The email I finally send out is riddled with typos and makes no sense and sounds somewhat like one long shriek as such, “Apologies for not respnding sooner but I was in the process of completing your third deliverable fo rht eweek and for the future any time I provide you with a deadline please add three more days to the final due date.”

SITUATION

The phone rings at 10:05 a.m. as I’m frantically finishing up a report for an 11:00 a.m. call.

Without PMS:

I answer the phone on full alert, take studious notes and promise to follow-up with whoever called as soon as I’m done with my call.

With PMS:

I glare at the phone and ultimately answer it, my voice riddled with thinly masked hostility. The moment I say “hello?” I regret the action of answering the phone, and promptly feel justified in treating whoever has called like a thoughtless, productivity-sapping saboteur.

SITUATION

It’s 4:55 p.m. I’m exhausted, loaded up on caffeine and my head is throbbing with a hormonally-induced headache. The presentation I sent off to a colleague an hour ago – the one that’s due to the client by tomorrow at 9:00 a.m., comes back to me with four hours worth of changes.

Without PMS:

I scream, “THAT FUCKER!!” get more coffee and get the work done.

With PMS:

I scream, “THAT FUCKER!!” send the report back to my colleague with a curt email explaining that I’m unavailable for the rest of the evening, and get drunk.

Okay, so I get the fact that it’s the end of August and therefore I must deal with a smattering of over-eager retailers who insist on putting out Halloween decorations and costumes for (likewise) over-eager consumers. I GET IT!

But please, please, please, if you own a store, consider the children! Yesterday I took my daughters who are 4 and 7 to our local craft store (*ahem* Michaels) for some stickers and other goodies. I saw the Halloween stuff from across the store. I can’t deny it. Nor can I deny the horrendous experience I had last year when my now-7-year-old was six and a giant animatronic witch came to life and proceeded to cackle at her while its eyes glowed red. She shrieked and we left the store, not to return until after Halloween. As I recall, I had to carry her out (howling) with her face buried in my neck.

So this year, in this same store, I thought – well, we saw the witch last year so we know to avoid it. Let’s walk down the Halloween aisle because I personally love looking at eyeball-shaped candles and ghost-statuary. Only this time I had the four-year-old with me as well. I know what you’re thinking. What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t know. I have PMS. I have a head cold. It was a poor judgement call, on my part.

The children were happily grasping their new craft paraphernalia to their little chests when we rounded the bend and approached what looked like a statue of a woman in a white dress. It took me a moment before I realized the statue didn’t have a head. My older daughter noticed right away though, and ran past it in terror. I yelled at her to stop, just as my younger daughter and I came up beside it. These things are motion activated so once the child ran past, the statue came to life.

It’s called “The Headless Bride and Her Groom”

The description on Michael’s Web site reads, “Nothing says true love like this couple. Both statues speak and are motion activated.”

The above picture really doesn’t do the statues justice. In the store, they were propped up on a table so that the head of the bride was exactly at eye-level with my 4-year-old. The head swiveled around, looked at her, began screaming and, as an added fun effect, its eyes began pulsating with a red light.

My daughter screamed as though she were being kidnapped and ran through the store (while continuing to shriek at the top of her lungs). I caught up with her as she ran past the cash registers, which were full of perplexed people watching her trail of smoke. I then heard one of the cashiers say, “yeah, all the children are reacting like that…”

At which point the PMS kicked in. Whose idea is it to put up a terrifying Halloween display in a store whose essential clientele consists of children below the age of 10? And what bright bulb decided to arrange the headless bride at eye level of most 4 and 5 year olds? And, finally, what genius propped the “groom” atop a table so that we could still see his gaping mouth and bloodless face from clear across the store?

Oh, and by the way, it’s AUGUST. Let’s get them their back-to-school crap before we psychologically traumatize them for life, k?

What the fuck is wrong with people? If children are screaming and running from the store all day long, could it be that the display is POSSIBLY too scary??

Yes, it is. YES IT IS TOO SCARY. You bastards. I’m calling the store to complain on Monday (with the full power of PMS behind me). mmmf.

update: I called and complained yesterday. I was very nice (honest). The store manager was also very nice, but she said that all stores are mandated to keep the things out and have them plugged in – it comes down from Michael’s Central Command or something. She said the thing freaks her out too and she keeps it unplugged while she’s there (obviously not on Sunday afternoon).

How comforting.

She’s going to tell the district manager about my complaint and she advised me to call before coming into the store and she’ll throw a sheet over the thing and unplug it. Ummmm, no thanks. Looks like I need to find a good online craft store… Honestly, if I can’t even get a local craft store to push its tasteless Halloween crap to the back of the building, what the fuck can I get accomplished in life? I feel so disenfranchised.