Peace out, CVS.
For as long as I can remember, I've done things I hated just because I thought it was "the right thing to do." I don't know where this moral compass comes from, but it has been the driving force behind many of my most unpleasant experiences.
When I was little, it was playing soccer. I come from a soccer family - all my cousins are naturals and they love doing it. While I may be a natural, I got not even a tiny shred of happiness from it. Still, I played it from the time I was four until I was ten. My dad was the coach and I did my best to be a star player. Towards the end, I made a poor showing, but for the most part just tried to keep on a cool game face and play.
More recently I've felt these odd moral obligations to people I don't even like. I won't pursue a boy because he's dating someone - even if she seems to have no redeeming qualities whatsoever and shits all over me whenever I get the chance. If I have a problem with someone who's a friend of a friend, I make a point not to voice my concerns. Although I have yet to see evidence that anyone has done this for me, I always seem to be doing invisible favors for people I hardly know, let alone like.
This all leads up to my job. As you know, I'm a cashier at The Pits of Hell, also known as CVS. At first I didn't mind the job - I was moving up, getting responsibility, taking home a fair amount of money at the work. Then I got a new manager and everything changed.
People six months my junior are getting the promotions that I was promised. I get sentenced to the back of the store to "face" the aisles, the most mindnumbing task ever created, every time I work. At night, I have to vacuum the whole store because all the new people are either too lazy or to fucking stupid to work the damn thing.
Last night was the straw that broke the camel's back. Maybe it was after my boss talked to me like I was five (I mean, I'm blonde and nice, not semi-retarded.) Or maybe it was when I had to sort through the newspapers that no one could be bothered to handle all week and tear the covers off the be sent to the publisher. Or maybe it was when I did all the unpleasant work and didn't receive a single thank-you, non-verbal or otherwise.
So even though working seems to be "the right thing to do," and I'm scared shitless of having no money until I find a replacement job, I'm going to put in my two weeks notice tonight. Because after sixteen years of doing what everyone else wants, I'm going to do something for me. And maybe it's a huge mistake, but at least it's a huge mistake I'm actively choosing to make, rather than someone else's mistake I have to deal with. It's time to do something for me.
When I was little, it was playing soccer. I come from a soccer family - all my cousins are naturals and they love doing it. While I may be a natural, I got not even a tiny shred of happiness from it. Still, I played it from the time I was four until I was ten. My dad was the coach and I did my best to be a star player. Towards the end, I made a poor showing, but for the most part just tried to keep on a cool game face and play.
More recently I've felt these odd moral obligations to people I don't even like. I won't pursue a boy because he's dating someone - even if she seems to have no redeeming qualities whatsoever and shits all over me whenever I get the chance. If I have a problem with someone who's a friend of a friend, I make a point not to voice my concerns. Although I have yet to see evidence that anyone has done this for me, I always seem to be doing invisible favors for people I hardly know, let alone like.
This all leads up to my job. As you know, I'm a cashier at The Pits of Hell, also known as CVS. At first I didn't mind the job - I was moving up, getting responsibility, taking home a fair amount of money at the work. Then I got a new manager and everything changed.
People six months my junior are getting the promotions that I was promised. I get sentenced to the back of the store to "face" the aisles, the most mindnumbing task ever created, every time I work. At night, I have to vacuum the whole store because all the new people are either too lazy or to fucking stupid to work the damn thing.
Last night was the straw that broke the camel's back. Maybe it was after my boss talked to me like I was five (I mean, I'm blonde and nice, not semi-retarded.) Or maybe it was when I had to sort through the newspapers that no one could be bothered to handle all week and tear the covers off the be sent to the publisher. Or maybe it was when I did all the unpleasant work and didn't receive a single thank-you, non-verbal or otherwise.
So even though working seems to be "the right thing to do," and I'm scared shitless of having no money until I find a replacement job, I'm going to put in my two weeks notice tonight. Because after sixteen years of doing what everyone else wants, I'm going to do something for me. And maybe it's a huge mistake, but at least it's a huge mistake I'm actively choosing to make, rather than someone else's mistake I have to deal with. It's time to do something for me.