Picture this: It's a Monday morning, and I was running a bit late as my dog had knocked over the Christmas tree and I woke up to a soaked carpet and broken bulbs that I had to clean up before I could leave. With smeared eye makeup and a wrinkled skirt, I made my way to my desk. I was super annoyed because I had planned to come in a bit early to prep for a meeting, but due to Dog V. Christmas tree, I was rushing around like a crazy person. Little did I know, I was about to become an honorary member of the most vocal club in the office. No, not the "Free Donuts for Life" club (I'm still working on that invitation). I'm talking about the infamous BMW Club.
Now, before you start imagining sleek German automobiles and leather driving gloves, let me explain. BMW, in this context, stands for "B*tch, Moan, and Whine." Yep, it's exactly as glamorous as it sounds.
My initiation began innocently enough. Kevin walked by my desk as I threw my bag down in a huff. His eyes gleamed as he asked a simple question, "How was your weekend?" I knew I should say "Great, thanks!" but instead I unleashed a torrent of complaints about my annoying dog, running late, the weather, and the inexplicable shortage of avocados at my local grocery store (I mean a girl can only put up with so much, right???).
Little did I know, I had just flashed the equivalent of the secret handshake of the BMW Club. Suddenly, I was surrounded by fellow members, all eager to share their tales of woe. It was like a support group for people who hate Mondays! This was also THE group to learn about the latest departmental gossip. I loved having the scoop!
For a while, it felt great. I mean, who doesn't love a good venting or gossip session? But as days turned into weeks, I started noticing some strange side effects:
My face seemed stuck in a permanent eye-roll.
I began to feel super stressed out and pessimistic.
My productivity plummeted faster than my will to wear real pants during the pandemic (I mean, like this is still a thing for me!).
It was then I realized the BMW Club was less of a fun social group and more of a career suicide pact. The more we complained and gossiped, the less motivated and more negative I felt. Instead of thinking it was just a bad day, I began thinking this was a bad place to work...and my feelings continued on a downward spiral. I struggled to complete my daily workload and everything felt like a chore. My boss finally asked me if I was doing OK, that he had noticed I was missing deadlines. (YIKES!!) I decided this was not who I wanted to be and I needed to make a change.
So, I did what any sensible redhead would do: I staged a dramatic exit. And by dramatic, I mean I started responding to complaints with wild optimism.
"The printer's jammed again!" moaned Bill. "Fantastic!" I replied, "What a great opportunity to get some steps in while we wait for IT!" The looks I got were priceless. Or incredulous. Hard to say...BUT…
I began to feel better and when I saw my BMW colleagues I began to feel a sense of dread. I refocused my time on getting my work done and hanging out with people who complained less and just seemed, well, happier. I did not have time to spend hours bemoaning the new memo or the new hire. I was lucky. I did work for a great leader and I loved my job. While the company was not perfect, it was a good place to work. I dropped my BMW membership and never looked back.
I wish I could say the same for the other members. Many of them still took numerous breaks and were chronically unhappy. I still talked with them from time to time (Especially to get my gossip fix), but I limited our conversations if they got too toxic.
The lessons I learned from my stint in the BMW Club?
Complaining is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesn't get you anywhere (OK a little folksy, but you get what I am saying).
Positivity is contagious. So is negativity. Choose wisely.
If you must vent, do it like you're diffusing a bomb: quickly, carefully, and with a clear exit strategy.
Laughter really is the best medicine. Especially when dealing with that one coworker who thinks "Reply All" is always the answer (GGGGRRRRRRrrrrrrrr).
So, the next time you find yourself in the BMW Club, remember: The only BMW you should be associated with is the one in your dreams – preferably parked outside your beach house, which you bought with all that money you saved by not sabotaging your career.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a "Free Donuts for Life" club to find. Who's with me?
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