~Mel Brooks as Governor William J. Le Petomane, Blazing Saddles

Yesterday I was feeling abused at work. Not by anyone in my department, but I was carrying some resentment left over from an unjust smackdown last week from somebody high up who didn’t know me from Adam. So I was feeling a little snitty. Especially since I knew that being cool, polite, and professional was the only way that I could handle it without making things worse, when I really wanted to jump on the phone and scream, “Apologize, bitch!” I felt kind of like Alice in Dilbert. I really need one of those fists of death.

This is how I got over it.

It just so happened that I attended a luncheon right after the meeting that made me revert to my Alice-self. It was a discussion luncheon about food, and most of the people attending were on the Slow Food email list and knowledgeable about food from different directions. We went around the table, introducing ourselves and elaborating a bit on why we thought that we were there. I would be last, and I was a little tense from the meeting and I was wondering what to say when they came to me. Then I started losing my self-consciousness in listening to the introductions and stories about food that were being told around the table.

When it was my turn to speak, I introduced myself as a student. I said that I was an organic gardener and a farmers’ market shopper. I talked about how I was a farmer’s daughter, and that I grew up in a culture where we grew our own vegetables, bought milk and eggs from neighbors, and fished or bought our seafood from the coast. I said that I became involved in Slow Food through my interest in voluntary simplicity and my wish was to see at least some of that culture retrieved or preserved.

I never mentioned my job. Everybody else did. I think that I originally planned to, but it didn’t seem necessary.

It’s not that I don’t like my job. It’s very stressful and busy right now, but in about six weeks, I’ll have hardly anything to do. I love the people I work with. I enjoy most of the work.

But I don’t define myself by my job anymore. I used to. I stopped thinking about how to get a promotion or a higher paying job many years ago, and concentrated on finding a job that wouldn’t make me crazy. I don’t check out the job postings or the newspaper ads (a habit of years!). I’m not interested in joining committees or taking on leadership positions that might further my “career.” 99% of the time, I leave my job at work. I don’t think about it at home. I take pride in doing my work well, but I don’t really worry about it. And the result has been that I am much, much happier.

Aren’t I lucky?