This Seat Is Officially Taken!

In high school I was teased incessantly.

It was never like a scene from Mean Girls where I’d walk around the cafeteria with my tray and the kids would slide there arses together chanting this spot is taken, because I always got along with everyone. BUT, through high school, I was loving known as Rhondi  St. Bernard. A reference to my being a dog. What can I say: tit’s always did the talking and I didn't have any!!

I’m not sharing that last tidbit for any other reason other than to emphasise that teens can be cruel. Even more to the point this evening, so can adults. An adult backed into a corner with fear makes high school antics look silly. A full grown ego threatened can be a ruthless thing.

My Momma made me this sweater  & took this very pic!
(For sentimental reasons I still have both.)
Taken: November 1983

Small town minds breed small town thinking. Empowered over time they're really quite damaging. Truth of the matter is that in day to day business there isn't an ‘in crowd’. 

Great success breeds opportunity. It's truly that black and white. 

You're either successful or you’re not: the numbers speak for themselves.

You can't ever stop change, only manage it. A full blown tail spin and daily fear mongering isn't what I would personally consider good management.

On that note, I know you're on the outside looking in but as you circle with your tray I have to say 'this seat is taken'. It's not because it's my intention to be mean or exclusive. Rather, everyday (just like my entire Team) I eat my lunch at my desk. You know the seat. Where you keep your head down, your mouth shut and you focus on results.

It's OK. Feel free to pat me on the head and wish me luck. It's a small town. After all, everyone under a rock knows that for the last decade all I've ever done is smile and answer the phone. So, I can completely understand, why you would speak about me that way.

YUP... Big Girl Panties were in fact worn for the production of this post!!

SWISH was the sound... Nothing but NET... Was what she chirped.