Life and death

[mousme]

Pregnant!Manager brought in the DVD of her sonogram today. Now, don't get me wrong, I think it's very nice that she's finally pregnant after trying for goodness knows how long (it's been at least a year, but maybe more). That being said, there are limits. 1) I can't even get that excited about the indistinguishable forms on my friends' sonograms, so forgive me if I'm underwhelmed at the prospect of viewing that of one of my managers'. Seriously. 2) Is there no mystery left in the universe? Geez. I don't need to know that much about the contents of a relative stranger's uterus.

On the plus side, I don't have to attend the little show. L has an appointment during her lunch break today, so I have to stay here and bravely man the telephones. Woe and angst. I won't get to see the smudge on the screen that's really a baby if you look very hard.

Again, don't get me wrong: babies are a Good Thing™. Moreso when they happen to other people. I'm always very happy for my friends when they become pregnant and when their babies are safely delivered, and Heaven help me I even enjoy hearing all the cute baby stories for years afterward. I just can't summon the same enthusiasm for a work colleague I barely know, and the woman won't shut up about it for ten seconds. She's five months along and it feels like it's been five years.


On the other end of the spectrum, I got the distinct impression last night that my parents have become the depressing kind of old people who read the obituaries to see which of their friends, family, or acquaintances have died recently. I can't explain how my father knew of the death of a distant relationship otherwise: he said that he saw it in the obits. This means that he was actively reading that section of the paper, something I never knew him to do before.

My parents are officially old.

It's weird, because I can't bring myself to think of them as old. My father is going to be 65 in September, and my mother is somewhere around 63 although she refuses to admit her exact age (don't ask, it's a long story). They don't seem old to me. Middle-aged perhaps. But old to me means my grandparents: the ones I knew either hobbled slowly with the aid of canes, stooped and aged, or else couldn't walk at all under their own power. Their hair was grey and white, their faces impossibly wrinkled, their hands and arms covered in liver spots. They were dignified and remote, and were treated with the utmost respect and not a little awe.

Somehow I can't put my parents in the same category as that. Yet, it occurs to me that my father is now the same age that my grandfather was when I was born, give or take a year or so.

What seemed very old to me a few years ago no longer seems all that far away.

Comments

[djs-specs.livejournal.com]

It must just be because of my line of work and the fact that its attached to a hospital, but I always read the obituaries to find out which patient in ICU is the latest to go...

Yeah, that confirms it, I'm a sad bastard.

Happiness is like jam, Phnee...

[montecristo.livejournal.com]

...you can't spread even a little of it without getting some on yourself.

I kind of understand what you mean about your manager. Some people do tend to drag others into their personal business with way too much information, or otherwise assume an intimacy which just isn't there. Nevertheless, pregnancy is such a significant happening to someone. It changes their physiology, plays with their hormones, changes their appetites, gives them cravings, aversions and morning sickness, makes them uncomfortable, causes them to appreciate that they are responsible for another life's chances for entering the world and in general pulls them down a life path which is different than what they are used to during most of the rest of their lives. It is joy, exaltation, anxiety, worry, impatience, love, pride... Frankly, as a man, I find it hard to understand how women in that state manage to keep their mouths shut about it at all.

Re: Happiness is like jam, Phnee...

[joane.livejournal.com]

And some people are just self-centered pains in the ass who think the world revolves around them. They're the same folks who show everyone the favours for their wedding six months in advance, and make managers weigh in on their seating plans, and when they buy houses they bring in photo albums of the tenth walk-through, and yammer on at length about inspection reports...

It's the "My Life Is The Most Fascinating Life Ever Lived" dysfunction, and it's sadly common. I worked with a pack of harpies like that at my last job in Montreal. While I'm very happy for those who have good things happen to them, it can be very draining to be recast as a passive studio audience member in the drama that is their life. Occassional commentary and check-ins, sure! But showing sonogram DVDs at work (espeially when it's to subordinates who can't tell you to shove it, they're busy!) are like making the postman watch your wedding video.

Besides - I don't want to hear about the vomiting schedules/mucus emissions/pelvic contents of the girl who parties every week; why would I want to know about how often my (hypothetical) pregnant office mate gets morning sick? Just because one is a NEW MOMMY instead of a barfly doesn't make it any less disgusting/overintimate unless you've got a friendship behind it that has previously included bodily function discussions.

Re: Happiness is like jam, Phnee...

[(Anonymous)]

Heh. How about when people come into someone's office to bitch about people "suffering" from "My Life Is The Most Fascinating Life Ever Lived" "dysfunction". That's supposed to be just okay, right? Solidarity!

Boors and bores are everywhere. Content is not the question. Heh.

Re: Happiness is like jam, Phnee...

[montecristo.livejournal.com]

That was me.

Re: Happiness is like jam, Phnee...

[joane.livejournal.com]

How about when people come into someone's office to bitch about people "suffering" from "My Life Is The Most Fascinating Life Ever Lived" "dysfunction". That's supposed to be just okay, right? Solidarity!

Different issue. Bitching is a proven route of creating in-group cohesion and maintaining communication channels in a constrained environment. The water cooler is networking at its most basic. Bitching != the All About Me Show that some people excel at. It removes the interaction portion of a successful conversation, reducing it to Monologue for Audience.

The inappropriateness of Phnee's manager's actions is redoubled by the issue of forcing subordinates to be that audience, when they have no real recourse except going to HR. She is manipulating that unequal playing field to receive the enforced attention and validation that she seems to crave.

[striped.livejournal.com]

My parents have been reading the obituaries ever since I can remember. Just out of general interest. But maybe they were weird or prematurely old.

[owldaughter.livejournal.com]

And people wonder why I kept news of my pregnancy so close to my chest? Gah. I didn't think anyone except my husband, my doctor, and possibly a very close friend or two who could give me experienced associated info should have heard about things that were going on with my body, thanks. Even looking back over my journal entries, which were all kept private at the time, I still didn't share a lot other than my feelings about what was going on. It's personal, damn it. I don't care how important it is to someone, it should stay personal.

Liam says he thinks you're a Good Thing, too. HRH has taught him how to bang the bottom of his block box like a drum. Sometimes with a stick.

A challenge

[montecristo.livejournal.com]

Pick a random ten journals in this place, compare them, and then tell me again that there is any consensus on just what is personal. Personal is personal, and hence, completely subjective.

Re: A challenge

[owldaughter.livejournal.com]

I don't disagree in the least. But a personal journal is precisely that: personal, all about the person keeping it, and that person has complete control over the amount of personal detail they choose to divulge. Those reading it have full control over if they choose to read it or not. If it's TMI, or of they're not interested in the topic, then they have the right and the freedom to stop reading. The difference between a journal and a public in-person forum like a workplace is that those in the workplace are usually stuck listening instead of just clicking past the words on the screen. They can be placed in a difficult situation where reacting honestly to the info can negatively affect their position in the job relationship. What's appropriate to share in a journal isn't necessarily appropriate to share in person with a bunch of colleagues who are workmates, not friends.

The solution

[montecristo.livejournal.com]

Phnee, et al, should go into engineering. Nobody ever talks to engineers about their personal lives at all. It's true.

[chasingthenuns.livejournal.com]

I shared my sonograms mostly so people could explain what I was looking at. When I put them on lj I made sure it was friends only and tried to put them behind a cut so if you weren't interested you could move on. I really didn't want to force people to look at things they didn't care about.

My mom's a nurse and reads the obits every day to see if any of her patients have died. It was weird at first, but I've gotten used to it.

[mousme.livejournal.com]

Yes, and I clicked on the link, 'cause, see you're a friend and I actually care about what's going on with you. Random work people? Not so much. ;)

[chasingthenuns.livejournal.com]

Have you seen this? I thought you might like it.

[mousme.livejournal.com]

I have seen it, but thanks for the link! One day, when I have money, I shall participate. :)

[chasingthenuns.livejournal.com]

i want to, but i can't seem to part with any of my books, and i'm not too sure how many people would want to read husband's (mostly computer books).

[talyesin.livejournal.com]

Um, hon? Your parents are older than mine. I'm older than you.

It's a difficult thing to realize and accept your parents are old... because it means that you have to realize and accept that one day they'll be gone.

[mousme.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I know. My parents had me late in life, partly because they got married later than most and then waited seven years before even trying to have children.

Intellectually I know they're getting older and that eventually I'm going to lose them, but it's a little more difficult to actually feel that. I suppose it'll hit home eventually.