I Stuffed Up

I made a stuff up at work. Not only did I stuff it up to start off with, I stuffed it up during the process, and even nearly managed to stuff it up again at the end.

My boss Boris gave me instructions, which I misread. Then Boris took control to wrestle it back from the brink, then he handed it back to me. And I stuffed it up from there. 

And then it rippled up the chain of command like a domino, where it came back to Boris. Who kicked me.

Then, in a deft move, (read desperate, Jesus fuck!) I snatched it back from the jaws of defeat at the last minute and it was fixed in the end.

It was my fault, I am not denying it. But, I'd also say that Boris' instructions are never that clear. The two lots of instructions that he gave me concerning this I got something completely different to what he intended. When I go back and re-read his instructions I can see what he meant, and, in a sense, wonder how I got the meaning wrong, but I did. But that is so often when I get things wrong, when I get instructions from Boris. (sometimes)

He used to always say to me good work. He doesn't say that any more. 

I hate stuffing things up, it makes me feel useless and stupid.

It makes me feel like a scolded child, not that I got scolded by anyone, but I know what they are probably thinking.

Grrr.

I've always been one upset away from feeling disappointed with life. I don't know why? Stupid really. I've got nothing about which to feel disappointed.

Oh, I wish I'd taken a different path at uni. I wish I'd studied arts, and literature, and theatre, and creative writing. I wish I'd learned the piano when I was 6, when my mother's friend the piano teacher told my mother that I was too old to start learning. I wish I'd kept up with singing that I did as a teenager. I wish I had the great uni experience you hear people speak of. I didn't, I struggled and was lonely. It was an isolating experience. (I didn't really make post-school friends until my mid to late twenties, when I accepted being gay, and I went out and found gay friends. You know, so fuck all the bigots who try to make being gay invisible) I wish I wasn't an accountant.  I wish, I wish, I wish... 

And when something goes wrong with my, perceived poor choices, I so easily end up feeling disappointed with life. Stupid, really. 

I don't seem to be able to shake it.

I don't know if that all even makes sense. And yes, I know, boo hoo poor me. I'm not trying to elicit sympathy, I'm just trying to work it out for myself.