After a week of waiting and the hope to expose our team's new logo/look to the masses, I have to admit I'm pleased and disappointed. The womens' gear looks great; both the singlet and the jogbra will get people's attention at the local races. Of course, there were folks who said to Suzanne, 'Oh, I didn't know you were going to do something like that...' She's gracious enough to not say anything publicly, but we both knew she sent out an e-mail to every woman who trains with the team, in fact, there were several team alumna who received the e-mail, too. There's the pleasure.
The disappointment was seeing my own singlet. Since the guy at the imprinter shop didn't take the time to READ THE FLIPPIN' (E-)MAIL, all I have on the front of my singlet is the abbreviation and the little running man...plus the web site URL. The back has the URL, too, but you'll never see it unless you're staring at my @$$. Yeah, it's that low on the singlet.
So, I went in and let the guy have it with both barrels. The only thing that kept me from engaging in a full-blown Tourette's Syndrome attack on his backside was the fact the t-shirts came out almost perfect. My vision was good on this one, for once.
So, now some of the UWF group (and one of the officers) has podium wear for upcoming races. This means they can hang out without looking like a drippy dog and risking the chance of catching a chill after a race.
A lesson learned through this particular situation; sometimes you just have to tell someone that their best effort was not good enough. It's taken a number of years for me to get this way, though. I've always been the type of person who wants everyone to be my friend (I have a hard time making friends, you understand...). Sometimes I say and do things in a state of mindlessness that p!$$@$ people off; I have to explain it's not a personal issue, only the fact they failed to meet my (sometimes way too high) standards.
First time I started to think about this was probably my first relationship after my divorce. The woman I was seeing had absolutely no qualms about sending a food order back if it wasn't right; I, more likely than not, will suck it up and eat lukewarm french fried potatoes at Applebee's. Now, I might not complain about a food order unless it's completely screwed up, but I will consider strongly whether to make a second trip into a particular establishment. My tolerance for failure is inversely proportional to the amount of cold, hard cash I'm spending, pretty much said.
It's amazing, though, to think how much we tolerate poor service and poor quality, from the snarly clerk at the convenience store who's ringing up our over-priced and exceedingly cheap American beer to the civil servant who charges us a $500 fee for the privilege of producing a local running event, yet makes us run all over the municipal building to every office to do her job. Doesn't make a whole lot of sense, does it?
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