The Epiphany

The Epiphany

Monday, 7^th March 2011. 9 o’clock. It’s our weekly staff meeting and Colin, Head of Credit Control is in a bad mood.   “Deirdre, I want all the Cork suppliers invoiced this week.  Do you think you could have them done by Friday?”

“No problem, Colin."

Thursday, 10^th March 2011. It’s some-time after 4 o’clock.  Mary, my boss approaches my desk, “Geraldine could you give Deirdre a hand, I’m worried she won’t have the invoices finished by tomorrow?” 

“No problem but can check with her first if she's ok it?”

Mary agrees to that and walked away looking for Deirdre.  In less than a minute she was back, “Deirdre is ok with it.”

“Grand, I’ll finish up here and start on them in the morning.”

Deirdre and I are not just work colleagues, we are friends and writing buddies.  We’re in the same writer’s group and we attended the Listowel Writers Festival in 2010 together.  We had such a good time there; we booked the same B&B for the festival for 2011.  I was more than happy to help my friend. 

8 o’clock the next morning, I arrived into work, checked my emails, listened to my voicemail and cleared my desk of all but the absolutely essential items: clear desk, clear mind.  I took down the ring binder from the shelf above Deirdre's desk marked 'Cork Suppliers’ and took out the index with the list of suppliers - 60 in total – and made a photocopy of it.  When Deirdre arrived into work at 9 o’clock, I slapped my hands together with relish and said, “We’re going to do this, Deirdre, how many have you done so far?”

“Six.”

“Ok,” I said, thinking aloud, “Six from sixty leaves fifty four, cut them in half and that gives us each twenty seven each.”  With a ruler I drew a line under West Cork Meat Supplies and turning back to Deirdre, said, “It’s do-able.  If you continue to work from the top down, I’ll work from the bottom up, we’ll have them done by the end of the day.”

“Grand.” 

 I had covered Deirdre’s sick leave when she was out for three months last year and so I was familiar with her particular invoicing process.  I settled down to hammer through my list of twenty seven.  I worked through my coffee break.  Deirdre took hers.  At 11 o’clock, I asked her how she was doing.  

“Grand,” she said.

 “We’ll beat this deadline yet, Deirdre.” I said.  Deirdre smiled.

I worked through my lunch break.  Deirdre took hers.  When she got back, I was twelve invoices short of my target.  At 3 o’clock, I called out to her, “Only six more, Deirdre how’re you doing?” 

“Grand,” she said. 

By 4 o'clock I had a splitting headache but was on course to be finished by 5 o’clock.  Pride flooded through my veins as I galloped onwards and upwards.  Knight Geraldine on her white stallion rides in and saves the day.  I did not even stop to make a cup of tea.  We were going to make it: I could feel it in my bones.    I called out, “How many have you got now, Deirdre?”

“Six,” she replied.  

At 5 o'clock on the dot, Deirdre stood up, snapped off her computer, picked up her hand bag and with a breezy, “Enjoy the rugby” to all she walked out. 

I heard her but when I tried to stand up I fell back again into my seat.  Stiff from sitting in the same position for eight hours, I was barely able to support my own weight.

“Where’s she going?” I said

“Let it go,” said Maria who worked alongside me.   

“Let what go? Where is she?”

“It’s not your problem.”

“I know it’s not my problem. It’s her problem so where the fuck is she?”

At that moment, Mary came out of her office and hurried towards us, “What’s the matter?”

“Deirdre has still six invoices to do and she’s gone.”

Mary nodded sympathetically, “That’s Deirdre for you, she’ll let you down every-time.”

“But that’s not good enough,” I cried.   

 I didn't understand.  Deirdre was my friend. I was helping her but she walked out on me.  We were working on her deadline not mine and yet she was gone.  My mind reeled with confusion.  

“Did you get all your invoices done?” asked Mary timidly.

“Yes,” I said, “I just need to post them out.”

“Let me check them first,” said Maria “in case there are any errors.” 

I wanted to stab her.  She wants to check me for errors.  Why didn't she stop Deirdre, the butterfly, the person responsible for these invoices, from flitting?  I handed over the invoices in sullen obedience.  I was in a daze.  It all felt so utterly wrong. 

That evening I collected my husband from work, “You wouldn’t believe what happened to me today,” I said. 

He waved me away, “I’ve had a shit week; I don’t want to hear it.”

I had to work this one out on my own.  I didn't sleep that night.  I meditated. I went for a run.  I poured it all out on paper.  None of the usual methods worked: self-righteousness burned through my body.   By Sunday evening I was exhausted.  I asked myself over and over again, ‘what would a wise man or woman do?’ and finally I got an answer.  First of all, the wise man or woman would calm down.  I calmed down.  I let all the rage and hurt drain out of me.  It was then I had an epiphany; what Deirdre did was not personal.  She didn’t do anything to me. Deirdre’s behaviour on Friday was simply how she operates in the world and this is why she gets sick.  I decided to forgive her.  I had learned - the hard way - that holding a grudge is hard work: first of all you have to remember that you have the grudge and then you have to constantly stoke it to keep it alive and relevant.  I just didn’t have the energy anymore.   On a practical level, I will probably be sharing an office with Deirdre for at least the next five years and choosing to resent her would me my working life toxic

Monday, 14^th March 2011. 9 o’clock. Colin was on a day's leave; Mary chaired the staff meeting. 

“Deirdre, how are the invoices going?” asked Mary.

“Grand,” said Deirdre, “With Geraldine’s help they’re nearly all done.”

“How many have you done, Deirdre?”

“Twenty-one.”

“And how many have you done, Geraldine?” said Mary turning to me. 

“Twenty seven.” I said quietly.

Mary turned back to Deirdre, “So Deirdre, between Monday and Friday you did twenty one invoices and Geraldine does twenty seven in one day.  Do you think you could finish the rest today?”

Deirdre nodded. She didn’t say anything. 

After the meeting, Deirdre stood up quickly and walked over to me.  She stooped down to whisper in my ear, “Some friend you are, you really showed me up today.” 

I was stunned and outraged all over again.  Deirdre ignored me all that day.  After work I collected my boys from their child-minder, Bridget who is also a very good friend to me.  I told Bridget everything.  “And now SHE’s sulking with me AND she’s been blanking me all day, what do I do?” I said.

“Blank her back,” said Bridget.

I slept badly that night but the next morning I decided to follow Bridget’s advice.  All day Tuesday, I ignored Deirdre.  It was pathetic behaviour on both our parts but I found it peaceful.

The following morning, Wednesday, I arrived into the office just after 8 o’clock; Deirdre was already there.  She was waiting for me.

“Could I have a hug?” she asked. 

Caught completely off guard I whimpered,  “OK.”

We hugged.

Deirdre then stood back and tilting her head gently to one side said, “Could we forget about Friday?”

I struggled to understand what was happening but again I just said, “Ok.”

Talking to Bridget again that evening, we tried to fathom Deirdre's behaviour.  “Who knows how her mind works,” said Bridget “but you did the right thing.  By not getting angry with her you gave her the space to step forward and make amends.”

Five years later, I appreciate now that the entire incident with Deirdre in March 2011 was a tidy little nutshell in which I experienced pride, betrayal, disappointment and hurt but I also got to practice compassion, forgiveness and detachment.  I ought to thank Deirdre for this lesson but she has since moved office but also, because of the nature of her illness, I don’t think she would see it the way I do.