Listen To Me

I know I’m not always clear when I explain things. Other times, I’m very sure I’m being clear. A few minutes ago, I was explaining to Lion that my office is closed so we can be trained on the new computer system. It seems ridiculous to be closed Wednesday morning and Thursday all day, only to be open again on Friday as if we’ll learn it that quickly. I also mentioned that we’re closed Saturday because we were supposed to have first aid and CPR training but the instructor has COVID so that was cancelled. I went on to say that I found out we can do first aid and CPR training online, but if we want Red Cross certification we’d have to take it in person. Lion wondered why the Red Cross would be certifying our computer training. Um. No.

This isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last, that he hasn’t listened to my entire statement and then gotten confused. I confess. I do it to him too, but I usually realize I’ve done it and ask him to repeat a certain part. Maybe I’ve heard the first part and some of the second part, but when I’m processing the information, it doesn’t quite make sense. From my point of view, hearing some of the second part but needing clarification is better than wondering why the Red Cross would be certifying our computer training. Of course, I’m biased. I think I’m right and Lion is wrong. He probably thinks he’s right and I’m wrong.

The funny thing is, he had a boss, many years ago, who would read the first part of an email and then ask a bunch of questions that could have been answered if he’d just read further along in the email. Lion does a similar thing. I’ll ask three questions and he’ll answer two. What about the third? Even if I ask in a subsequent email, he won’t answer that damn third question. It’s frustrating. For a while, I’d ask one question per email and that seemed to go better. Now, we can just yell at each other through the wall rather than sending emails. I’d like to say it completely solves the problem, but it doesn’t.

I know I could probably make a rule about listening or answering questions, but these things are subjective. He’ll say he listened. I’ll say he didn’t. I’ll say I listened. He’ll say I didn’t. (I listen more often than he thinks I do.) If it really frustrates me, I can always punish him for pissing me off. That’s a great blanket rule. Why did you leave the kitchen light on and make me get up to turn it off? You pissed me off. Whack! Why did you lose the dog’s toy in the hamper again and make me get up to find it? You pissed me off. Whack! I sound like a bitch, don’t I? In reality, I don’t whack Lion as often as he’d like me to, and certainly not as often as I should. It actually takes quite a bit to piss me off, unless I’m already stressed out by work and life in general. I have my moments of complete frustration with everything and Lion may just happen to breathe a little too loudly. Thankfully, that doesn’t happen often. As a matter of fact, I think it’s happened far less often now that I’m working from home. Unless you count dinner time. What’s for dinner is still the most annoying question ever.

[Lion — My current confusion was caused by the fact that Mrs. Lion’s office sent an email to all patients (I’m a patient) that the office would be closed for new computer system training. I didn’t realize that first aid training was also involved.]