Going the Distance

I'm not sure if it's genetics or just an innate personal drive, but one thing I know how to do is to bust my butt for the cause. On Friday, it happened to not only be my bum, but my cuticle on my right index finger as well. Somehow I was judiciously selected to put together an important package to ship overseas. I'll add, without going into too much detail, that this order originated with the Woman and came down through the various levels of the food chain to little ole me. "Of course", I said to myself, "Nice way to spend my Friday. But, if She says this needs to get out today, well, gosh darn it, I better make sure this get's done. Period." So Friday afternoon I worked my few connections in multimedia services and learned the ropes of DHL. I got a little creative along the way, purchasing, out of my own pocket, bubble packaging from the downstairs post office. If you were to stop by my cubicle you would have found a sight for sore eyes: papers strewn everwhere, bubble packaging lining the carpet, and drops of blood from my torn cuticle in my DHL package, oh, and me sitting there on the phone with a DHL woman, typing a brief letter with a blood stained tissue wrapped around one finger. To top it all off, after spending roughly 10-20 minutes coordinating a pickup, specifying the location and all, the DHL man failed to wait for me, and left in haste. I knew it was not a good sign when I got a call and asked the DHL guy where he was, but he could not find the words in English to describe his location. It doesn't help that our building is pretty much a giant labyrinthe with multiple entrances and exits. Well, to make a long story short, I spent 10 minutes at the guards' desk phoning around to all the other entrances to see if there was DHL guy anywhere to be seen. The resounding answer was "NO". So, I got on my personal cell phone and inflicted the wrathe of Christine upon some DHL representative who to his credit remained extremely calm over the next 20-30 minutes. It's important to note, at this point, it was close to 5:30 and a colleague's farewell had started at 5:15 offsite. I was told by DHL my new pick up would be from 5:30-6:30. Unhappy but relieved DHL had late pick ups, I went back to my desk a bit dejectedly. Running around the building in my heels, my back and hip with bursitis were not in good shape. I felt pretty much like a dragon breathing fire, but exhausted by the multiple hurdles of the afternoon. Once back in my humble cubicle, I immediately changed to my sneakers and set about checking the long list of unattended emails that had accumulated over the course of the last few hours. Fortunately, it wasn't long before I got a call on my cell phone. Ha, it was a new DHL guy on his cell phone, but he hung up on me. Great! Well, I sprung to action. This time I would find the DHL man if it cost me my final shred of sanity on this Friday evening. I went back to the entrance, exited the turn style, and proceeded to wait outside the building in the beautiful sunshine and 60 degree weather. After chatting with a guard for several minutes, learning his past educational and work history, verifying that he in fact liked his job for the most part, I tried calling the DHL man again and to my great joy, into my sight popped a big yellow van, probably not where he was supposed to be, but nevertheless I ran to his location, and handed over my package. I don't think I was ever so happy. Mission accomplished. And, what a mission! If only one of the THREE secretaries in the office might have said, "oh, Christine, I'll take care of that for you, afterall, that's what I get paid to do", but no, this was a day for Christine to go the distance on her own -- learning the ups and downs of bureaucracy, varying degrees of work ethics, and incompetency-- all the while paving the way, with a bit of blood, sweat, and tears. I reentered the building with a slight grin and renewed spring in my step. In the immortal words of Chumbawumba, "I got knocked down, but I got up again."

I went back to my desk, put in another hour or 2 of work and called it a day. Later that evening I rounded up Heather and Raymond to watch "Breach", the thrilling story of how Eric Oneill, a young surveillance recruit who aspired to become an FBI agent, took down Robert Hansen, the spy who sold secrets to the Soviets for close to 20 years, wreaking extraordinary havoc upon U.S. security interests.

As for the picture: me in Krakow, near Wawel Castle on a beautiful November day.