Back in my previous life, ie, before the kiddo, I worked in the tech world. When I was first starting out in said world I started at the bottom of the food chain, in desktop support. What that meant was you whined and I came to your desk and fixed it. It was a good gig. 500 end users, a couple of desktop people, network guy, and a server guy. We all did our jobs and some of us went drinking afterwards but I won’t be sharing those stories tonight. Nope this is about trauma.
So the funnest call was always the one that started with panic. “I came back from” insert lunch, meeting, getting coffee, etc “and my screen is blue, totally blue. What do I do?”
“You have everything saved to your server directory right?”
“ummmmm, no….” ensuing tears.
Cue me hitting the mute button before laughing uproariously. Blue Screen of Death and you are screwed.
Yesterday I had my own personal version of the blue screen of death. Not on my PC, oh no. Myself. Picture me hysterically crying in my kitchen while I try to explain to the hubs that all the crap currently weighing on me, combined with the kiddo thinking he was going for gold in arguing with mom that day, and a 19 year old sorority girl laughing at me because I expected her to do what she said she would do (no joke) had broken me. I was BSD.
You know it’s bad when a friend shows up before her party and then suggests maybe you should stay home because you look so tore.
Broken. Just crying all evening off and on.
I must get off the pool board. If I could just get free of that I would have both the time (20 plus hours a week back) and the energy (hello, 20 hours a week) to deal with everything else.
But I made a commitment and I hate shirking responsibility.
What say you oh loyal readers? Shirk or BSD?