Yesterday work was abominable.
If you look up the word MICRO-MANAGER in the dictionary you would see a photograph of my boss next to it. I'm a self starter, I do not need anyone to check to make sure I'm working or to make sure that what I'm working on is on the priority list. Further I'm great at multitasking and as such I can read an email, and check an invoice at the same time. I'm so sorry that you feel that another co-worker "had a hard time" and isn't capable of doing such but this is not my problem, and I'm not your problem so lets move on.
This afternoon I had a productivity meeting with said boss. Apparently my error rate on said invoices is less than 2%. To be totally honest it is 1.8% Apparently I function at a 6 unit hour. Meaning that I produce 6 units of work--be it invoicing, order entry, deal with clients on the phone or issuance of RGA's. So in an 8 hour period I produce 48 pieces of tracable work. Apparently that is the highest in the department. Yet you felt the need to Micro-Manage me. When he asked if I needed to talk I told him NO, when he asked if he had done something from a management standpoint I told him YES, you micro-managed me and I do not like it, which lead to the above paragraph--blah blah blah.
After my meeting I emailed my hubby and asked if he'd like to have a drink at the Flop House*** (Name changed to protect our location). He immediately responded and said that YES it was a good idea. This was a good thing for last night we had a fight. A major fight at which time he packed a suit case because I hurt his feelings so badly. I was spiteful and mean, but tonight made up for it.
We both ordered our drinks, and devoured a delicious brick oven backed buffalo chicken pizza. It was heaven on a plate. We held hands, and talked about how important it is to unwind in this manner a bit more often. It will be especially important should we be accepted into the IVF study--for once we get pregnant I won't be able to have a vodka and cranberry juice with a slice of lime on the rim. Of course that doesn't mean that I can't call ahead and order a buffalo chicken pizza either...for pregnant women have mad cravings...