In which this post is about books, bleeding, and the stupid seminar we’re taking at work.

My aunt left a pile of paperbacks for me after my surgery. Mostly Koontz stuff, and a couple mysteries and political thrillers. Not the kind of things I usually read but it’s all I’ve got. I’ve been reading one every day and a half. I finished one last night, right before I went to sleep.

Then I slept… for eleven hours.

I woke up, checked the time, swore profusely, rolled out of bed, got dressed, and literally ran out the door. I missed the bus by about 18 seconds – I saw it roll by. It was one minute early.

I hoofed it downtown. Got a latte at Starbucks. Walked to work. Was supposed to go sit in the conference room for sales training, but since someone’s out sick there was no one on tech support. I took calls instead.

I slept for 11 hours because apparently I’m on the rag. [I know I said I was done posting on this topic, but I lied.] I was cranky as hell on Monday, and last night I had mild cramps. Today I still have cramps and I’m bloated, starving, tired, and bleeding a little bit. My mind has been packed in cotton at the bottom of a dark, soft box. I’m pretty sure any commercial with a puppy in it would make me cry.

In short I have all the shitty PMS symptoms I had before, but without the Niagara Falls part. So it still sucks, but it sucks significantly less than it did. I was hoping for no bleeding at all after my ablation, but it looks like I’m not that lucky. (I’ll probably be one of those who grows back her endometrium in an astonishingly short amount of time – I don’t even have scars on my knees from childhood, because I’m so good at healing. Then I’ll have to decide if I want to have another ablation or just get the damn thing removed.) Stupid self-healing uterus.

Anyway, so I had nothing to read during my lunch break today. I felt weird sitting there, eating my pizza and salad alone with nothing to read and my hormones all whack. I kept finding myself staring at the staff, but when they caught me doing it I’d look back at my food like a lurking weirdo. I was humming the Christmas carols, too.

I’m such a dork. Guess I’ll be shopping at Fictionwise tonight, loading up my PPC with new reading material. Having nothing to read makes me too aware of my social deficiencies, and I can get lots of books on my PPC.

As for the “training,” management here is making the entire staff go through a CD-based sales training seminar. We all have 3-ring binders. There’s a portable DVD player and a big, thick workbook. We each have two hours on the clock every week to do the lessons.

I hate it.

Not because there’s anything wrong with it per se, but because it’s too much like being in AA and on a residence course at the same damn time – too healthy and upbeat and only half-true.

[Disclaimer: If you happen to work with me please take the following with a large grain of salt, and be aware that I – and a great many of my readers – were members of a large, cultish group for many years and have taken more self-help training than you could ever shake a stick at. Below is my opinion, and doesn’t mean I’m denigrating anything you find valuable in the training. Some of it’s good stuff. I’m just jaded.]

I hate the course because even though I’m getting paid to watch it, it’s awful. It was shot like an infomercial, and the guy – who is both fat and irritatingly upbeat – has a fuckin’ lisp. He’s personable and charming, and I just wanna hit him with the claw side of a hammer because he’s so excited about such stupid shit.

In the course of the cheesy videos, I’m encouraged to note that “only liars self-sedate,” and to develop a “personal power move.” I should notice how body language affects attitude and smile more and roll my shoulders back. I should notice that “readers are leaders.” [If that were the case, I’d be LOADED.]

I should cultivate an “attitude of abundance.” I should keep tedious logs at work, because “documentation focuses attention.” [Since when?] I should “model the best,” which means I should copy the personal habits of people who have more money than I do. [Only certain ones, though. Not the ones who just stay home out in the middle of nowhere and who do not have “personal power moves” or greasy personalities.] I should take someone who is doing better than me (better at what was not covered) out to lunch and pick her brain.

I’m told that “money is flow,” and admonished that “unfulfilled commitments block the pipe.” I’m given cheesy, 15-year-old New Age-y visualizations to explain why I’m poor and others are rich. I’m encouraged to “think positive!”

The whole thing makes me want to stab myself in the throat, but since I’m a good ex-cult member I’m paying attention, taking copious notes, and doing the homework like I should. Apparently I’m unique here outside the bubble because I can both complain bitterly and accomplish what’s expected of me. I’d forgotten what it’s like to live outside Fairfield, I really truly had.

So, yeah. Mandatory sales training. Clearly I’ve angered some minor but influential god, and I should go burn a virgin or something. Anybody got any virgins they’re not using?