Called on the Carpet

I actually like my boss as a person, and even respect her as a manager/co-worker. I don't think that's something I've said about any of my previous jobs. Plus, she's made it clear that she likes working with me and thinks I'm smart and hard-working (if only she saw my blog post times ...), etc. *modest blush*

And yet ... when she asks me to come into her office, I still instinctively freeze up. Just the other day, she said quietly, so as not to disturb nearby meeting attendees, "Can you come into my office for a moment? There's something I want to talk to you about." Immediately, I knew I was fired. I just knew it!

I shook it off and went into her office. She shut the door behind me and sat behind her imposing wood desk, while I perched on the edge of a chair in front of the desk. As it turns out, the talk had nothing to do with me ... not at all. She had to make a decision, and just needed a sounding board.

Which I should have known. But I'm sure the next time she calls me into her office, I'll still have a moment of panic. Or, as my sister Amy's stalker once called it, "one little paranoid moment," ... but that's a different story entirely.