There's nothing in your drink but alcohol

And there's nothing in your head but mush.

Over the last few days I've thought a lot about how people react to situations - and life in general. Some get wasted and others are just so fragile you never know which of your next words will break them.

I just had an odd email exchange with an employee who works for one of my clients. His boss is asking me to get something from this guy. I emailed him to start it moving and he forward it to another guy.

"What is your take here?" he ask his colleague in the email.

I responded back how I understood from the company's owner there was no discussion. I just needed to know who to contact to proceed. I've been trying to get this done sense November, so I only assumed he was stalling. Again.

His response? "I'm taking offense to your email...I have been nothing but cooperative with you and would appreciate the courtesy to take our relationship with the client in to consideration." (I kept the misspelled word in on purpose.)

What? Offense? I feel like I'm working with a bunch of 14-year-olds.

Speaking of 14-year-olds, I'm back to the drunken mess in my neighborhood pub. She got booted from the bar down the street so now she's invaded the place I enjoy hanging out. I see her in two physical states: drunk and wasted, and one emotional state: a mess. Over the weekend, she attended a memorial service for the father of a neighborhood friend. What fascinated me was the emotion she showed at the service. As I'm told, she cried; practically fell apart there. But she didn't shed a tear. This reaction was insincere, but her everyday behavior is downright offensive.

She hugs me, sits down at my table uninvited, talks - I mean scream - in slurred semi-sentences in my face. She's a constant interruption. The other night I bought her a couple of shots to try tipping her over the edge - getting her booted to the next bar. Now the chatter is that someone put something in her drink. Yeah, alcohol baby. Hear what I'm saying?

I know it's a sad situation, but she's an adult with a problem that only she can fix. It's her choice. I don't hang out with drunken messes. That's my choice. Besides, it's illegal for the bar to continue serving her when she can no longer stand.

Yesterday I heard a university professor talk about emotional intelligence and how to apply it to our professional lives. It's basically the ability to recognize, understand and control your emotions.

This is an invaluable skill for a single girl. To be able to control our emotions in our personal lives could lead to so many amazing outcomes. I'm going to work on this.

I don't know what's going on in the town drunk's and my fragile work colleage's lives. I hope they work out their issues. In the mean time, I suggest they practice a little emotional intelligence and grow up.

Love to the single girls,
Addison