Don’t Vent On Me

Venting is like throwing up. I wasn’t the cook. Hell, I wasn’t even in the dang kitchen. So why are you throwing up all over me? You don’t even want me to clean it up, do you? No – you just want me to stand there and take it. And when you’re done, you feel so much better, don’t you? I know. What a relief. Whew! But what about me? I am standing there with barf all over me. I have to get this stinking stuff off me and go on about my business. I can’t help but want to help you wash your face or offer you a breath mint – I am in HR, for crying out loud – part of our job is cleaning up messes.

But I prefer a productive, mess, please. One where you discuss your upset stomach when you first feel queasy. Tell me what you think is causing it. Let’s discuss some intervention or remediation or some kind of solution so that you can feel better. I might ask you to adjust your recipe so that it doesn’t happen again. You’re the cook, remember?

Oh, maybe there were other cooks involved. Good point. I guess if they aren’t sick to their stomachs they may not know the food makes you sick. I really do expect you to tell them before you retch in my direction. Seriously. Don’t you want to fix it before you toss your cookies?

I don’t think so! That’s the problem. I think somebody decided that venting is OK and we in HR – or your best friends – just have to stand there and take it and then wish you well as you walk away.

When was it decided that venting was OK? About the same time we decided that “bye-bye” was an acceptable way to end a business call? When women started sexually harassing the men in the office? Oh, yeah, that was a great step forward for women’s quest for a corner office, wasn’t it? But I digress.

You chose to vent on me because I am a good listener, right? Not because I can necessarily do anything about your situation. If you wanted something done, you’d probably have talked to someone involved, or with authority in that area. And you would have gone to them with a solution in mind. But you chose me. Or a coworker who has even less power to fix it than I do. And God forbid they (or I) should offer you feedback.” No, Betsey, this is not a time for suggestions – I am just venting.” Translation: “No, Betsey, I want to throw up all over you.”

Well: I AM HEREBY DECLARING MY INDEPENDENCE FROM VENTING!

Feel free to join me. I want to start a revolution and am looking for recruits. Here is the first step: If someone comes up to you and looks sick to their stomach, don’t just stand there -- send them to the bathroom!

And wave our flag: DON’T VENT ON ME!

Thanks for listening -- I feel better.