LifeLessons | Carey Portell https://careyportell.com Thrive*Big Tue, 10 May 2016 18:28:45 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.4.5 https://careyportell.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/thrivelogo-150x54.png LifeLessons | Carey Portell https://careyportell.com 32 32 Everything I need to Know http://careyportell.blogspot.com/2016/05/everything-i-need-to-know.html?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=everything-i-need-to-know-3&utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=everything-i-need-to-know-3 Tue, 10 May 2016 18:28:00 +0000 https://careyportell.com/?guid=b045104f0894f17a17b82d47bd47d23d      Three weeks.  High humidity.  Arthritis flare-ups.  Pain.I can't shake it.  Rarely do my bouts last this long anymore, but I seem to be headed for a fourth week.       Missouri's odd weather c...

The post Everything I need to Know first appeared on Carey Portell.]]>      Three weeks.  High humidity.  Arthritis flare-ups.  Pain.

I can't shake it.  Rarely do my bouts last this long anymore, but I seem to be headed for a fourth week.  

     Missouri's odd weather changes are at fault, aggravating my advanced arthritis.  Self motivation has come naturally for me, but since our car crash, working at it has become a full time job. 

     Only having troubles when the pain wears on me for long periods of time, like now, does my spirit damper some.  Last evening, I told my husband that I didn't know how much longer I could do this.  

     Most days I live, some days, I survive. 

     Surviving the last three weeks has become burdensome.  Each day I have to prove I am stronger than my pain.  Each day I must motivate mentally and emotionally or I will not survive. 

     My dear friend gifted me a book last summer.  Initially scanning through it, I thought this is exactly the type of book she would give me.  I did not read it front to back, but read the next page as I felt the urge.  Each one liner was a lesson, a lesson I needed on that particular day. 

     The past three weeks has prompted me to re-read it and I have read the chapters from cover to cover. 

Everything I Need to Know I Learned from a Little Golden Book

     Do you remember that little book from your childhood?  They have one for adults and we all need to read it from time to time.  Simplicity.  Simple words that we should all live by.  Life lessons that make ours easier to live by, if we would just do it. 

     Permissions that we do not allow ourselves, small motivational one liners that move us to a better place and give us the strength we already know exists inside of us. 

     I look for daily motivation everywhere and every chance I get, because I don't deny that I need it.  Some days more than others, in this case some weeks more than others.  

     This book tells me it's okay to take a day off due to my pain and not feel guilty about it.  It tells me it's okay to do something fun even if I don't have all of my chores accomplished.  These words tell me it's okay to have a down day, but to get up the next with vigor.  Or that it's okay if it takes more than one day. 







    It says, Don't Give Up.

     
The post Everything I need to Know first appeared on Carey Portell.]]> Everything I need to Know http://careyportell.blogspot.com/2016/05/everything-i-need-to-know.html?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=everything-i-need-to-know-2&utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=everything-i-need-to-know-2 Tue, 10 May 2016 18:28:00 +0000 http://careyportell.com/?guid=b045104f0894f17a17b82d47bd47d23d      Three weeks.  High humidity.  Arthritis flare-ups.  Pain.I can't shake it.  Rarely do my bouts last this long anymore, but I seem to be headed for a fourth week.       Missouri's odd weather c...

The post Everything I need to Know first appeared on Carey Portell.]]>      Three weeks.  High humidity.  Arthritis flare-ups.  Pain.

I can't shake it.  Rarely do my bouts last this long anymore, but I seem to be headed for a fourth week.  

     Missouri's odd weather changes are at fault, aggravating my advanced arthritis.  Self motivation has come naturally for me, but since our car crash, working at it has become a full time job. 

     Only having troubles when the pain wears on me for long periods of time, like now, does my spirit damper some.  Last evening, I told my husband that I didn't know how much longer I could do this.  

     Most days I live, some days, I survive. 

     Surviving the last three weeks has become burdensome.  Each day I have to prove I am stronger than my pain.  Each day I must motivate mentally and emotionally or I will not survive. 

     My dear friend gifted me a book last summer.  Initially scanning through it, I thought this is exactly the type of book she would give me.  I did not read it front to back, but read the next page as I felt the urge.  Each one liner was a lesson, a lesson I needed on that particular day. 

     The past three weeks has prompted me to re-read it and I have read the chapters from cover to cover. 

Everything I Need to Know I Learned from a Little Golden Book

     Do you remember that little book from your childhood?  They have one for adults and we all need to read it from time to time.  Simplicity.  Simple words that we should all live by.  Life lessons that make ours easier to live by, if we would just do it. 

     Permissions that we do not allow ourselves, small motivational one liners that move us to a better place and give us the strength we already know exists inside of us. 

     I look for daily motivation everywhere and every chance I get, because I don't deny that I need it.  Some days more than others, in this case some weeks more than others.  

     This book tells me it's okay to take a day off due to my pain and not feel guilty about it.  It tells me it's okay to do something fun even if I don't have all of my chores accomplished.  These words tell me it's okay to have a down day, but to get up the next with vigor.  Or that it's okay if it takes more than one day. 







    It says, Don't Give Up.

     
The post Everything I need to Know first appeared on Carey Portell.]]> That Black Angus Bastardo………… http://careyportell.blogspot.com/2016/03/that-black-angus-bastardo.html?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=that-black-angus-bastardo-3&utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=that-black-angus-bastardo-3 Sun, 20 Mar 2016 21:40:00 +0000 http://careyportell.com/?guid=ebed464fd56aee6a0588f99d1e50743f

     I had a run in with our youngest bull, not my first, but my closest so far.  All turned out well, neither one of us is hurt, unless you count my look that could kill, but I do not get the impression he was disgruntled by that.

     Always being prepared, with my guard up is the only reason I was able to escape him.  Plus, he had tried the same action just the day before, therefore my eyes were peeled for him and I knew my escape route.

     First let me apologize for the curse word I am using for him.   Knee deep into a Ralph Compton, western book series with tales of long, arduous cattle drives and Spanish speaking Indians, I somehow feel that if I say it like the men in this story say it, then it doesn’t really count.  In Spanish it doesn’t seem as curse-wordy.

We first brought this beautiful slab of beef home when he was just a wee little guy.  He was hot and ready to work, day and night if need be.


     Once when walking to the feed bunk, I noticed that look in his shiny black eye, his left one to be precise and I knew.  That black bastardo was going to kick me.  Always carrying a five-gallon bucket of feed between myself and our livestock, his hard hoof planted on the plastic that I was carrying instead of my tender flesh.  Never having another altercation for an entire year, I was a little perplexed when for the last month he developed a little of a “tude”.


     One more thing.  Do not label me as racist for calling him black.  It’s a descriptive word and I feel those who do not know Angus cattle may not understand there are also red Angus cattle.  Now you have an image to go with this story.


     Back to cattle drama.  Each day I don my custom braces while working on the farm to increase my stability because of my fused ankles.  Sixty-two (my name for our bull because of ear tag) had developed a habit of closing the gate to his feed lot, cutting himself off from grain.  It swings one way and each time I tied the metal barrier open, the next day, as sure as the sun shines, this hunk of muscle has broken what I thought was my solution.

He’s still young, maybe he was entertaining himself or maybe he was being an ornery male.  Here’s where it gets a little precarious.  The gate has to swing outward and he must walk around it, enter the alley and ambulate to his feed bunk.  He is big, clumsy and impatient.  Not understanding he must wait for the gate to open wider than his chiseled flanks, he would inadvertently get himself caught in between the gate and pipe fencing or close the gate again.  I tried and tried, but he was not a thinker, he was a reproducer and it was showing.  It was also wearing on my own patience.


 

   Standing at the end of the gate where it met the pipe fencing, I would hold it open while he pushed past the other end.  With just enough time, I could climb to the top rung and watch him stride past me.  Usually with his nose in the air snubbing me.  After the second day of this he came to the fence to flare his huge, wet nostrils at me, pace three times back and forth in front of my perched self before deciding his growling stomach was more important.


     Not enjoying this experience and wondering what the heck tightened up his bung hole, I made a pack with myself, for my safety.  If the same scenario happened one more time, Carey would not feed this moody beast.


     You know it’s always that next time, isn’t it?  Next day, gate closed, I hold it open and begin climbing to the top rung of the fence.  This day he was again not patient, but he was not clumsy either.  It’s like he mastered a martial arts class in one night and became as agile the Karate Kid during his last tournament. 


He was coming for me, eyes not wavering, focused on me.  I was the only thing that existed for him.  Almost to the top rung, his head dips down only to raise up swiftly.  Already having my right leg over the fence, I pull my bent left leg higher as his massive hard head catches under my knee and there I go.  Like an awkward ballerina flying through the air, trying to catch a glimpse of him but yelling to the blue sky and white clouds, “ Youuuuu Bastardoooooo!”


     Apparently my left hand still encompassed the metal piping, pulling hard, I righted myself in mid-air and came down feet first.  Having mentally prepared for any fall, I hijacked my right knee to my arm pit, knowing I will do anything not to land on my right foot, I put that left foot down and waited for the sting to ride up my leg as I landed.


     Holding my breath, bending forward, riding out the wave of fire traveling up to my knee, I turn my head slightly to the left as I look between the rusty pipe fencing, only to see a smirk on this muscle butt’s face as he says, “Booyah”.


Recovering more quickly than I thought it would take, I straighten up while muttering incomprehensible words at not only Sixty-two, but myself.  “You win; I’m not messing with you anymore.  I’m done.  Wait ‘til Dad gets home,”, I spat.


     I challenge myself daily, prepare before entering any situation and am constantly aware of my surroundings, due to my situation and career I choose to work in.  This day is the reasoning behind that.  It is also the reason that there are times I must accept that some jobs cannot be mine.  Usually taking a few times to find a creative alternative doesn’t always pan out, as in this case. 


Giving it my best shot, I admit, it is in my best interest if I keep a pipe fence between myself and this black Angus bastardo. 

WINNER: Sixty-two.
The post That Black Angus Bastardo………… first appeared on Carey Portell.]]>

     I had a run in with our youngest bull, not my first, but my closest so far.  All turned out well, neither one of us is hurt, unless you count my look that could kill, but I do not get the impression he was disgruntled by that.

     Always being prepared, with my guard up is the only reason I was able to escape him.  Plus, he had tried the same action just the day before, therefore my eyes were peeled for him and I knew my escape route.

     First let me apologize for the curse word I am using for him.   Knee deep into a Ralph Compton, western book series with tales of long, arduous cattle drives and Spanish speaking Indians, I somehow feel that if I say it like the men in this story say it, then it doesn’t really count.  In Spanish it doesn’t seem as curse-wordy.
We first brought this beautiful slab of beef home when he was just a wee little guy.  He was hot and ready to work, day and night if need be.

     Once when walking to the feed bunk, I noticed that look in his shiny black eye, his left one to be precise and I knew.  That black bastardo was going to kick me.  Always carrying a five-gallon bucket of feed between myself and our livestock, his hard hoof planted on the plastic that I was carrying instead of my tender flesh.  Never having another altercation for an entire year, I was a little perplexed when for the last month he developed a little of a “tude”.

     One more thing.  Do not label me as racist for calling him black.  It’s a descriptive word and I feel those who do not know Angus cattle may not understand there are also red Angus cattle.  Now you have an image to go with this story.

     Back to cattle drama.  Each day I don my custom braces while working on the farm to increase my stability because of my fused ankles.  Sixty-two (my name for our bull because of ear tag) had developed a habit of closing the gate to his feed lot, cutting himself off from grain.  It swings one way and each time I tied the metal barrier open, the next day, as sure as the sun shines, this hunk of muscle has broken what I thought was my solution.
He’s still young, maybe he was entertaining himself or maybe he was being an ornery male.  Here’s where it gets a little precarious.  The gate has to swing outward and he must walk around it, enter the alley and ambulate to his feed bunk.  He is big, clumsy and impatient.  Not understanding he must wait for the gate to open wider than his chiseled flanks, he would inadvertently get himself caught in between the gate and pipe fencing or close the gate again.  I tried and tried, but he was not a thinker, he was a reproducer and it was showing.  It was also wearing on my own patience.

 
   Standing at the end of the gate where it met the pipe fencing, I would hold it open while he pushed past the other end.  With just enough time, I could climb to the top rung and watch him stride past me.  Usually with his nose in the air snubbing me.  After the second day of this he came to the fence to flare his huge, wet nostrils at me, pace three times back and forth in front of my perched self before deciding his growling stomach was more important.

     Not enjoying this experience and wondering what the heck tightened up his bung hole, I made a pack with myself, for my safety.  If the same scenario happened one more time, Carey would not feed this moody beast.

     You know it’s always that next time, isn’t it?  Next day, gate closed, I hold it open and begin climbing to the top rung of the fence.  This day he was again not patient, but he was not clumsy either.  It’s like he mastered a martial arts class in one night and became as agile the Karate Kid during his last tournament. 

He was coming for me, eyes not wavering, focused on me.  I was the only thing that existed for him.  Almost to the top rung, his head dips down only to raise up swiftly.  Already having my right leg over the fence, I pull my bent left leg higher as his massive hard head catches under my knee and there I go.  Like an awkward ballerina flying through the air, trying to catch a glimpse of him but yelling to the blue sky and white clouds, “ Youuuuu Bastardoooooo!”

     Apparently my left hand still encompassed the metal piping, pulling hard, I righted myself in mid-air and came down feet first.  Having mentally prepared for any fall, I hijacked my right knee to my arm pit, knowing I will do anything not to land on my right foot, I put that left foot down and waited for the sting to ride up my leg as I landed.

     Holding my breath, bending forward, riding out the wave of fire traveling up to my knee, I turn my head slightly to the left as I look between the rusty pipe fencing, only to see a smirk on this muscle butt’s face as he says, “Booyah”.

Recovering more quickly than I thought it would take, I straighten up while muttering incomprehensible words at not only Sixty-two, but myself.  “You win; I’m not messing with you anymore.  I’m done.  Wait ‘til Dad gets home,”, I spat.

     I challenge myself daily, prepare before entering any situation and am constantly aware of my surroundings, due to my situation and career I choose to work in.  This day is the reasoning behind that.  It is also the reason that there are times I must accept that some jobs cannot be mine.  Usually taking a few times to find a creative alternative doesn’t always pan out, as in this case. 


Giving it my best shot, I admit, it is in my best interest if I keep a pipe fence between myself and this black Angus bastardo. 
WINNER: Sixty-two.
The post That Black Angus Bastardo………… first appeared on Carey Portell.]]> That Black Angus Bastardo………… http://careyportell.blogspot.com/2016/03/that-black-angus-bastardo.html?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=that-black-angus-bastardo&utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=that-black-angus-bastardo Sun, 20 Mar 2016 21:40:00 +0000 https://careyportell.com/?guid=ebed464fd56aee6a0588f99d1e50743f

     I had a run in with our youngest bull, not my first, but my closest so far.  All turned out well, neither one of us is hurt, unless you count my look that could kill, but I do not get the impression he was disgruntled by that.

     Always being prepared, with my guard up is the only reason I was able to escape him.  Plus, he had tried the same action just the day before, therefore my eyes were peeled for him and I knew my escape route.

     First let me apologize for the curse word I am using for him.   Knee deep into a Ralph Compton, western book series with tales of long, arduous cattle drives and Spanish speaking Indians, I somehow feel that if I say it like the men in this story say it, then it doesn’t really count.  In Spanish it doesn’t seem as curse-wordy.

We first brought this beautiful slab of beef home when he was just a wee little guy.  He was hot and ready to work, day and night if need be.


     Once when walking to the feed bunk, I noticed that look in his shiny black eye, his left one to be precise and I knew.  That black bastardo was going to kick me.  Always carrying a five-gallon bucket of feed between myself and our livestock, his hard hoof planted on the plastic that I was carrying instead of my tender flesh.  Never having another altercation for an entire year, I was a little perplexed when for the last month he developed a little of a “tude”.


     One more thing.  Do not label me as racist for calling him black.  It’s a descriptive word and I feel those who do not know Angus cattle may not understand there are also red Angus cattle.  Now you have an image to go with this story.


     Back to cattle drama.  Each day I don my custom braces while working on the farm to increase my stability because of my fused ankles.  Sixty-two (my name for our bull because of ear tag) had developed a habit of closing the gate to his feed lot, cutting himself off from grain.  It swings one way and each time I tied the metal barrier open, the next day, as sure as the sun shines, this hunk of muscle has broken what I thought was my solution.

He’s still young, maybe he was entertaining himself or maybe he was being an ornery male.  Here’s where it gets a little precarious.  The gate has to swing outward and he must walk around it, enter the alley and ambulate to his feed bunk.  He is big, clumsy and impatient.  Not understanding he must wait for the gate to open wider than his chiseled flanks, he would inadvertently get himself caught in between the gate and pipe fencing or close the gate again.  I tried and tried, but he was not a thinker, he was a reproducer and it was showing.  It was also wearing on my own patience.


 

   Standing at the end of the gate where it met the pipe fencing, I would hold it open while he pushed past the other end.  With just enough time, I could climb to the top rung and watch him stride past me.  Usually with his nose in the air snubbing me.  After the second day of this he came to the fence to flare his huge, wet nostrils at me, pace three times back and forth in front of my perched self before deciding his growling stomach was more important.


     Not enjoying this experience and wondering what the heck tightened up his bung hole, I made a pack with myself, for my safety.  If the same scenario happened one more time, Carey would not feed this moody beast.


     You know it’s always that next time, isn’t it?  Next day, gate closed, I hold it open and begin climbing to the top rung of the fence.  This day he was again not patient, but he was not clumsy either.  It’s like he mastered a martial arts class in one night and became as agile the Karate Kid during his last tournament. 


He was coming for me, eyes not wavering, focused on me.  I was the only thing that existed for him.  Almost to the top rung, his head dips down only to raise up swiftly.  Already having my right leg over the fence, I pull my bent left leg higher as his massive hard head catches under my knee and there I go.  Like an awkward ballerina flying through the air, trying to catch a glimpse of him but yelling to the blue sky and white clouds, “ Youuuuu Bastardoooooo!”


     Apparently my left hand still encompassed the metal piping, pulling hard, I righted myself in mid-air and came down feet first.  Having mentally prepared for any fall, I hijacked my right knee to my arm pit, knowing I will do anything not to land on my right foot, I put that left foot down and waited for the sting to ride up my leg as I landed.


     Holding my breath, bending forward, riding out the wave of fire traveling up to my knee, I turn my head slightly to the left as I look between the rusty pipe fencing, only to see a smirk on this muscle butt’s face as he says, “Booyah”.


Recovering more quickly than I thought it would take, I straighten up while muttering incomprehensible words at not only Sixty-two, but myself.  “You win; I’m not messing with you anymore.  I’m done.  Wait ‘til Dad gets home,”, I spat.


     I challenge myself daily, prepare before entering any situation and am constantly aware of my surroundings, due to my situation and career I choose to work in.  This day is the reasoning behind that.  It is also the reason that there are times I must accept that some jobs cannot be mine.  Usually taking a few times to find a creative alternative doesn’t always pan out, as in this case. 


Giving it my best shot, I admit, it is in my best interest if I keep a pipe fence between myself and this black Angus bastardo. 

WINNER: Sixty-two.
The post That Black Angus Bastardo………… first appeared on Carey Portell.]]>

     I had a run in with our youngest bull, not my first, but my closest so far.  All turned out well, neither one of us is hurt, unless you count my look that could kill, but I do not get the impression he was disgruntled by that.

     Always being prepared, with my guard up is the only reason I was able to escape him.  Plus, he had tried the same action just the day before, therefore my eyes were peeled for him and I knew my escape route.

     First let me apologize for the curse word I am using for him.   Knee deep into a Ralph Compton, western book series with tales of long, arduous cattle drives and Spanish speaking Indians, I somehow feel that if I say it like the men in this story say it, then it doesn’t really count.  In Spanish it doesn’t seem as curse-wordy.
We first brought this beautiful slab of beef home when he was just a wee little guy.  He was hot and ready to work, day and night if need be.

     Once when walking to the feed bunk, I noticed that look in his shiny black eye, his left one to be precise and I knew.  That black bastardo was going to kick me.  Always carrying a five-gallon bucket of feed between myself and our livestock, his hard hoof planted on the plastic that I was carrying instead of my tender flesh.  Never having another altercation for an entire year, I was a little perplexed when for the last month he developed a little of a “tude”.

     One more thing.  Do not label me as racist for calling him black.  It’s a descriptive word and I feel those who do not know Angus cattle may not understand there are also red Angus cattle.  Now you have an image to go with this story.

     Back to cattle drama.  Each day I don my custom braces while working on the farm to increase my stability because of my fused ankles.  Sixty-two (my name for our bull because of ear tag) had developed a habit of closing the gate to his feed lot, cutting himself off from grain.  It swings one way and each time I tied the metal barrier open, the next day, as sure as the sun shines, this hunk of muscle has broken what I thought was my solution.
He’s still young, maybe he was entertaining himself or maybe he was being an ornery male.  Here’s where it gets a little precarious.  The gate has to swing outward and he must walk around it, enter the alley and ambulate to his feed bunk.  He is big, clumsy and impatient.  Not understanding he must wait for the gate to open wider than his chiseled flanks, he would inadvertently get himself caught in between the gate and pipe fencing or close the gate again.  I tried and tried, but he was not a thinker, he was a reproducer and it was showing.  It was also wearing on my own patience.

 
   Standing at the end of the gate where it met the pipe fencing, I would hold it open while he pushed past the other end.  With just enough time, I could climb to the top rung and watch him stride past me.  Usually with his nose in the air snubbing me.  After the second day of this he came to the fence to flare his huge, wet nostrils at me, pace three times back and forth in front of my perched self before deciding his growling stomach was more important.

     Not enjoying this experience and wondering what the heck tightened up his bung hole, I made a pack with myself, for my safety.  If the same scenario happened one more time, Carey would not feed this moody beast.

     You know it’s always that next time, isn’t it?  Next day, gate closed, I hold it open and begin climbing to the top rung of the fence.  This day he was again not patient, but he was not clumsy either.  It’s like he mastered a martial arts class in one night and became as agile the Karate Kid during his last tournament. 

He was coming for me, eyes not wavering, focused on me.  I was the only thing that existed for him.  Almost to the top rung, his head dips down only to raise up swiftly.  Already having my right leg over the fence, I pull my bent left leg higher as his massive hard head catches under my knee and there I go.  Like an awkward ballerina flying through the air, trying to catch a glimpse of him but yelling to the blue sky and white clouds, “ Youuuuu Bastardoooooo!”

     Apparently my left hand still encompassed the metal piping, pulling hard, I righted myself in mid-air and came down feet first.  Having mentally prepared for any fall, I hijacked my right knee to my arm pit, knowing I will do anything not to land on my right foot, I put that left foot down and waited for the sting to ride up my leg as I landed.

     Holding my breath, bending forward, riding out the wave of fire traveling up to my knee, I turn my head slightly to the left as I look between the rusty pipe fencing, only to see a smirk on this muscle butt’s face as he says, “Booyah”.

Recovering more quickly than I thought it would take, I straighten up while muttering incomprehensible words at not only Sixty-two, but myself.  “You win; I’m not messing with you anymore.  I’m done.  Wait ‘til Dad gets home,”, I spat.

     I challenge myself daily, prepare before entering any situation and am constantly aware of my surroundings, due to my situation and career I choose to work in.  This day is the reasoning behind that.  It is also the reason that there are times I must accept that some jobs cannot be mine.  Usually taking a few times to find a creative alternative doesn’t always pan out, as in this case. 


Giving it my best shot, I admit, it is in my best interest if I keep a pipe fence between myself and this black Angus bastardo. 
WINNER: Sixty-two.
The post That Black Angus Bastardo………… first appeared on Carey Portell.]]> Horrible Bosses http://careyportell.blogspot.com/2016/01/horrible-bosses.html?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=horrible-bosses&utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=horrible-bosses Sun, 03 Jan 2016 17:58:00 +0000 https://careyportell.com/?guid=e4f7c7edd699e6712d189beff6140dbb      Most of us have endured at least one horrible boss in our career.  If you have not, you should.  It teaches you lessons you use to guide you throughout your adult life.      The worst boss I have ever h...

The post Horrible Bosses first appeared on Carey Portell.]]>      Most of us have endured at least one horrible boss in our career.  If you have not, you should.  It teaches you lessons you use to guide you throughout your adult life. 

 
 
 The worst boss I have ever had the displeasure of working under was my very first adult job.  Freshly graduated from X-ray school, I landed my first position at Bothwell Regional Health Center located in Sedalia Missouri.

     The radiology tech field had become flooded as I graduated. I felt indebted to find a seat in this geographic area.  Sedalia was larger than my home town but still was not too far away for a weekend visit.  I never even knew what this quiet city had to offer me due to my first horrible boss. 

     Here are five lessons that I had learned NOT to repeat from that short initial job choice:

     1-Speak before you Think:  By all means, please say whatever comes out of your mouth, no matter how crude, insulting or racist it is.  Your employees love hearing negative low level phrases come from your mouth!  (This kind of behavior cascades over into the employees attitudes and soon you hear the negativity rolling off their/your tongues in as ill a manner as your horrible boss.)

     2- Ignoring employee diversity:  If your were advanced in age, gay in any form of the word or your skin color was not white, you did not belong in his department and it was made known to you. (I was a young, naive woman when I encountered whom I thought was going to be my first role of leadership.  My mind was blown and my mouth often parted in confounded awe at the bigotry of this ugly specimen.)

     3-Ensure that your staff feels they need to protect themselves at all times: Especially from you that is.  Staff should always be on guard around you or the one troll you have managed to reel into your dark corner. (When workers feel they have no margin for error-ever, they generate unnecessary anxiety within themselves usually inducing minor mistakes normally not made by the calm, confident self they were before meeting The Witch King)

  4- "Suggest" your team work all three shifts in one week: Originally I was hired to swing between second and third shift so when my tyrant in charge "suggested" I pick up one day shift, I perceived I didn't have much of a choice.  I felt I should accept the offer or I would forever be overlooked for promotion. (There was no social life for my twenty-something self working all three shifts in one week.  My clarity lacked on the job due to my body desperately trying to find balance between waking and sleeping.  I could see the joy he took from my predicament.)

     5-Avoid all criticism towards yourself as a leader: Oh, yes, please avoid all feedback on how you can improve your leadership skills and provide a positive atmosphere for your department members.   
 As a tech you were forbidden to give encouraging advice and if you did you were branded and treated as a traitor.  If administration gave the advice, you do not agree with it and if asked, you confirm that your supervisor is adhering by all standards and such. (This additionally creates a resentment from all staff and an unintentional feeling of ill will towards you as a manager)

    I held out for a year before snagging a new position at a corporation that I would remain for the next nine years.  Bothwell Hospital required an exit interview for all faculty.  When asked, "Why are you ending your employment at this facility?", I balked.  I didn't want to be a snitch or admit the awful comments that I harbored for the wretched soul in the radiology department.

     The Human Resources rep leaned down and asked if it was due to the manager of our division.   Replying with a matter of fact, "Yes, Ma'am", she said a thank you and admonished that is why there is such a high turn over rate for radiology technologists in their hospital. 

   My first year in adult employment was horrendous.  Normally lit with a bright smile and attitude, I felt down trodden and stripped of a confident experience.  

     Early in my career I learned some valuable lessons that I have used in all of my life choices.  I have done well in those positions because of these and even though the experience brings 
dis-pleasurable memories, I would not change their participation in expanding my growth as a human being. 


If you never tasted a bad apple, you would never appreciate a good apple. 

  The post Horrible Bosses first appeared on Carey Portell.]]> Horrible Bosses http://careyportell.blogspot.com/2016/01/horrible-bosses.html?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=horrible-bosses-2&utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=horrible-bosses-2 Sun, 03 Jan 2016 17:58:00 +0000 http://careyportell.com/?guid=e4f7c7edd699e6712d189beff6140dbb      Most of us have endured at least one horrible boss in our career.  If you have not, you should.  It teaches you lessons you use to guide you throughout your adult life.      The worst boss I have ever h...

The post Horrible Bosses first appeared on Carey Portell.]]>      Most of us have endured at least one horrible boss in our career.  If you have not, you should.  It teaches you lessons you use to guide you throughout your adult life. 

 
 
 The worst boss I have ever had the displeasure of working under was my very first adult job.  Freshly graduated from X-ray school, I landed my first position at Bothwell Regional Health Center located in Sedalia Missouri.

     The radiology tech field had become flooded as I graduated. I felt indebted to find a seat in this geographic area.  Sedalia was larger than my home town but still was not too far away for a weekend visit.  I never even knew what this quiet city had to offer me due to my first horrible boss. 

     Here are five lessons that I had learned NOT to repeat from that short initial job choice:

     1-Speak before you Think:  By all means, please say whatever comes out of your mouth, no matter how crude, insulting or racist it is.  Your employees love hearing negative low level phrases come from your mouth!  (This kind of behavior cascades over into the employees attitudes and soon you hear the negativity rolling off their/your tongues in as ill a manner as your horrible boss.)

     2- Ignoring employee diversity:  If your were advanced in age, gay in any form of the word or your skin color was not white, you did not belong in his department and it was made known to you. (I was a young, naive woman when I encountered whom I thought was going to be my first role of leadership.  My mind was blown and my mouth often parted in confounded awe at the bigotry of this ugly specimen.)

     3-Ensure that your staff feels they need to protect themselves at all times: Especially from you that is.  Staff should always be on guard around you or the one troll you have managed to reel into your dark corner. (When workers feel they have no margin for error-ever, they generate unnecessary anxiety within themselves usually inducing minor mistakes normally not made by the calm, confident self they were before meeting The Witch King)

  4- "Suggest" your team work all three shifts in one week: Originally I was hired to swing between second and third shift so when my tyrant in charge "suggested" I pick up one day shift, I perceived I didn't have much of a choice.  I felt I should accept the offer or I would forever be overlooked for promotion. (There was no social life for my twenty-something self working all three shifts in one week.  My clarity lacked on the job due to my body desperately trying to find balance between waking and sleeping.  I could see the joy he took from my predicament.)

     5-Avoid all criticism towards yourself as a leader: Oh, yes, please avoid all feedback on how you can improve your leadership skills and provide a positive atmosphere for your department members.   
 As a tech you were forbidden to give encouraging advice and if you did you were branded and treated as a traitor.  If administration gave the advice, you do not agree with it and if asked, you confirm that your supervisor is adhering by all standards and such. (This additionally creates a resentment from all staff and an unintentional feeling of ill will towards you as a manager)

    I held out for a year before snagging a new position at a corporation that I would remain for the next nine years.  Bothwell Hospital required an exit interview for all faculty.  When asked, "Why are you ending your employment at this facility?", I balked.  I didn't want to be a snitch or admit the awful comments that I harbored for the wretched soul in the radiology department.

     The Human Resources rep leaned down and asked if it was due to the manager of our division.   Replying with a matter of fact, "Yes, Ma'am", she said a thank you and admonished that is why there is such a high turn over rate for radiology technologists in their hospital. 

   My first year in adult employment was horrendous.  Normally lit with a bright smile and attitude, I felt down trodden and stripped of a confident experience.  

     Early in my career I learned some valuable lessons that I have used in all of my life choices.  I have done well in those positions because of these and even though the experience brings 
dis-pleasurable memories, I would not change their participation in expanding my growth as a human being. 


If you never tasted a bad apple, you would never appreciate a good apple. 

  The post Horrible Bosses first appeared on Carey Portell.]]>