My goat's gotten.
Ninety percent of the time I enjoy my job--facilitating communication for persons with hearing disabilities, and scheduling others who provide these services. The other ten percent of the time I want to rant and rail at a handful of email messages that rustle their way into my inbox. I'm convinced that the sole purpose of some of my colleagues--the whole reason, I say, why God put them on this earth--is to teach those who come into contact with them diplomacy and patience.
Of the dozen or so freelancers impacted, only two have expressed dissatisfaction with the scheduling arrangements. They seem to delight in contentiousness. So I get emails along the lines of "Maybe you should send out a message to the entire list for every course and find out who's available and equitably distribute them...blah blah blah."
I had half a mind to respond that life is not fair; to retort that if they find my scheduling unsatisfactory, they are welcome to contact other post-secondary institutions in the area for opportunities; and to remind them (perhaps obliquely threateningly) of the scripture that reads, "For whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance: but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath" (Matthew 13:12, KJV).
So far all our correspondence has taken place via email, which is good: I can respond to conflict much better in writing, when I have a bit of time to contemplate and compose my answers, to try and find just the right tone--a tone that projects "I'm taking the high road." My intention is to be, as the late Vic Cowie was fond of quoting, "wise as serpents, and harmless as doves." Just in case, however, I'm going to resume rehearsing a phrase that my mother-in-law shared with me: "I'm sorry you feel that way, but...."
If that doesn't work, there's always the Shakespearean insult generators: "Begone, thou rancorous earth-vexing scullions!"
There now. I feel much lighter in spirit.
