H is for High School

I'm feeling rant-y today.  I apologize in advance.

I'm not a teacher.  I'm not a nanny.  I didn't sign up to take care of children.  Rather, I run a day care center for grown-ass adults.  It's ludicrous, really.

At one point in my life, I acted like I was in high school.  I spread rumors.  I took things too personally.  I got my feelings hurt over things that didn't really matter.  Eventually, I realized that those things didn't matter.  I grew up. I don't know when it happened, but it did.  Don't get me wrong. I love some good gossip, but now I try to keep it among my close group of friends.  I don't air my dirty laundry--particularly not at work.

I'm in the military.  One would typically think that my work environment should stay professional most of the time.  I wish.  I can't go more than a day without someone tattling on her co-worker.  I have had to listen in on countless conversations where a supervisor has to tell a subordinate not to talk about others.  "Don't bring your business to work."  "Don't worry about what so-and-so is doing.  You're not her boss."

It's exhausting.

I used to give lectures.  Really good lectures that totally would have worked on 17-year-old me.  But these people are not me.  If they were, they wouldn't need to receive these lectures at age 26 (not kidding).  They would just come to work and do their damn jobs.  So I have given up on lectures.  I don't have the energy to care about people who really don't seem to care enough to help themselves.  The only response I could muster today was, "Does it affect you in any way if she is five minutes late?  Do you have to work five minutes longer if she's not on time?  THEN DON'T FUCKING WORRY ABOUT HER."

My job makes me long to come home to my actual baby.  She is better behaved than these adult "kids" I work with.