Under Pressure

It happened AGAIN. I talked my way out of First Aid, but I did get sent home early Saturday night. I am not sure what happened this time. I was fueled, I was hydrated and I was not in a new position. Toni thinks it could have still been food related, but also thinks (like Rob and I) it could have been anxiety related.

I had a salad late Saturday morning and wasn’t all that hungry later. One of the other usher’s works at a Starbucks and will bring goodies from time to time. I mostly look and don’t touch, but that night I had a piece of reduced fat coffee cake. I went to my position and all seemed fine.

Anyway, early in my shift I was holding onto a bag for a guest outside of my Club section while he went to get a program. Nice guy...hadn't been to a game in three years and was like a little kid...it was sweet. I love to see people excited to be there and to watch the Sharks play. It was no biggie to watch the bag and it wasn’t in the way.

So, he's heading back down to his seat when my supervisor comes by to check on me, give me any instructions that may be different from another shift, etc. She sees me with the bag and says, "Deneice, did you go shopping before work?" (She knew I wouldn't do that...it was all in fun) I handed the bag back to the guest and said, "No, I was just holding onto a bag for a guest." Then she tells me that she knew it would be something like that because that's something I would do! That was nice, sweet, etc. However, I am having a hard time with all of this.

I want to scream that I have the whole staff fooled and they have no idea what a loser I am...but I keep my mouth shut. It's so hard to watch people who have been there for years get stuck with places that I have never been assigned to and find myself in places it took some TWO years to achieve. Thursday night they sent someone home so I could take their place and not be sent home. I sit and listen to people complain about their assignments, being sent home without an option (we are guaranteed 3 hours no matter what…not great…but $$ is $$), etc. and I just keep quiet. We all get the bad spots; we all are subject to being released, etc. The fun and the people far outweigh any perceived negatives.

The job is a total blessing. However, the "exceed guests' expectations" is dangerous ground for me because it brings out my perfectionist tendencies. I mean we were 4^th in the world in non-sports revenue, we are either #2 or #1 in guest services and that is great! It can be anxiety producing.

But, I haven’t had that throw up/pass out feeling since November and so I found some way to not be anxious I am going to blow it. I just don’t know what. I think the positive feedback is seriously blowing my mind and Saturday was just the straw that broke the camels back so to speak.

Rob is having a field day with this! It's no secret to anyone that this is a huge issue for me and I think he is "enjoying" watching me process all this out. The nerve!

One of the other things I like about the job is no one knows about my history. They have no idea about the ED or the SI. Some do know about the tattoo because we were talking about them a couple weeks ago and I mentioned mine. M and J were in shock. They didn’t think I was the type.

The ONE benefit of people knowing my history is that they usually watch the food/diet/weight talk around me. I think that is the sole thing that triggers me. Not magazines, not TV…but the food/weigh/diet talk. I generally do a pretty good job of coping…but a couple weeks ago I found myself so triggered and it didn’t dawn on me until this weekend.

I worked a double and had a break between events. There is this little Mexican place that has really good carne asada burritos. It isn’t “the burrito that ate Tokyo,” but it’s not tiny either. However, after only having a bottle of Boost and being on my feet for like 4 hours I figured it was fine. Plus, I don’t eat the whole tortilla. I eat about ½ and then unfold it and eat the filling. I get back to the arena, sit down with M and another J and unwrap the burrito from the foil. M takes one look at it and goes on and on and ON asking how could I eat the whole thing, that it would be a meal for three days for her, it was huge, etc., etc., etc.

I know that this is the “real world” and this goes on all the time…but I didn’t realize how ill equipped I feel to deal with that type of trigger. It does play with my head. Maybe she was right, maybe I did eat too much, blah, blah, blah.