On Being a !*#$*#! Grownup

Lately it seems as if the few people with whom I have to interact on a semi-regular basis (cause let's face it, I'm mostly just mom, I don't do a ton of "work-like" interaction) have forgotten that we're not in middle school anymore.

First there was the guy who ran the games for the kid's program that I run at church. I asked, for various reasons, to have just a bit more accountability so I knew that he was doing things in line with the program. He ripped off his uniform, threw it on the floor, shot me a salute (a real one, but I knew it was actually just a single finger in his mind) and stormed off. His kids still come, so that's a bonus, but I don't get why we couldn't have a grown-up conversation about things instead of that.

Then there are some of the other writers that I'm trying to do a giveaway with. And I put out a set of suggestions for how to run it, basically had to pull teeth to get anyone to say anything and then they finally agreed. Now that things have been running for a week, the complaints are rolling in. "Oh, I didn't read it carefully." "I didn't understand that was how it was going to be." Blah blah. How is this now my problem? Also, at this point, we've published how things are running. Time to get on board, not gripe.

One of the above agreed to participate and then totally whiffed her post. So I mentioned that she could go ahead and do it and got the "Oh, I'm busy. But maybe. We'll see." Huh? Look, you agreed to all of this. Just freaking honor your commitments. Also, you still owe me the money you promised as part of the grand prize.

And oh, the grand prize. Grr. I'm going to end up shelling out more than 50% of that since people who promised to pay can't seem to get it together. It was all well and good when we were each chipping in $20. But now. Sigh.

I won't be organizing this again either. Last year was a bit of a disaster, this year takes the cake.

Be a grown up. It's not just about the number you put on the line labeled "Age."