Insecure

I was waiting to talk with Gwyn, our office manager, while our
21-year-old intern tried to explain to her why he had trashed some
photos he'd taken, rather than archive them (I think anyway, I walked
up half way through the chat). He umed and welled his way to getting
nowhere in an explanation until he got "distracted" by something on
her counter and looked at it, interested. After watching him hem and
haw his way down Avoidance Avenue while eating a giant piece of guilt
pie, I got annoyed, "Dude, spit it out, I have to talk to Gwyn." I
said.

He finished his thought and Gwyn and I started our conversation.

Now, I will point out right here that it was not a case where I
interrupted their conversation to have my own with Gwyn. I know when I
do this, I notice it the minute I do it, and generally, I halt myself
while squeaking out an embarrassed "sorry".

I'm writing about it though, because it brought me back. When I was
21, if someone had blurted out what I blurted out this afternoon to
our intern puppy, I probably would have cried behind closed doors. Or,
at least would have spent the rest of my internship thinking that
person making the comment must not like me. They think about me and
think about how much I suck. How lame I am  (of course, I'm completely
unaware that they have better things to do than think about me at
all).

Just when I think I've come along way in the area of not letting what
others think of me effect me, I'm curt with (or really, just rude) to
someone else. Not that intern puppy is crying himself to sleep right
now, I'm sure far from it, but he will be getting a little "sorry I
was bitchy at you" email from me once I complete this entry.

Just in case he is a crybaby.