Sometimes Success Breeds A Victim

I'm at the tail end of a GREAT week at work.  I had an fantastic visit from some company bigwigs, impressed a few influential people, and bid farewell to my wonderful group of interns.  I was feeling good about myself and to top it off, someone sent me an email link to Steve Jobs' "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish" commencement speech. 

In my world, success brings home the bacon and I just fry it up (or wrap it around some grilled shrimp).  Anyway, success clearly wears the pants in our relationship and it can be addictive.  I fell into true addict behavior when it was ultimately my fear of being without it that led me to volunteer to work on my day off. 

I love my work and even more than that, I love when people tell me that "when you do work you love, it doesn't feel like work" as it helps to justify my behaviors.  The thing I've learned through a couple of anxiety attacks and failed relationships is that at the end of the day, it's still work.  That little lesson doesn't stop me, just saying I learned it...

So today I started my day off with a healthy dollop of emails, some additional instruction for my team, and a little texting to New Boss on his day off.  When I got his response, "We'll discuss it when I'm back," I got angry.  I started blaming him for the lack of communication my peers and I experience.  Then I judged my peers who weren't as "dedicated" as myself and I criticized him for not being able to "successfully integrate work and life".  My unofficial workday lasted all of 3 hours as the incessant blaming (completely caused by him) totally ruined my productivity.  I  truly felt the LEAST my boss could do, after all I do for him, was answer a few important questions... 

Those people were right about love, work isn't supposed to feel like this.

Refusing to let it get to me, I treated myself to a Starbucks coffee (because they understand what it's like to be ignored by people they serve).  I ordered my usual pick-me-up "Hi doll, can I get a grande caramel frappacino with extra whip cream?" I was completely taken aback when the barista, in her most cheerful voice, asked "would you mind if I put it in a Venti cup so you can really ENJOY the extra whip?" 

Wow. "I abso-friggin-lutely would not mind at all!" 

See, they usually skim me on the frap to make room for the whip, or add so much whip that it spills out of the straw hole completely rendering the "extra" unnecessary.  Nevertheless I still order it because, well, it's what I want.  But this time the barista realized something I tend to forget: There's a major difference between getting something you want, and actually enjoying something you want.

In the case of my success, that major difference is me...