Time to breathe
I called in this morning to say I wouldn't be coming to work. My stated reason was that I couldn't put my shoes on because my feet hurt too much, which is true enough. It had more to do with the fact that all it would take would be one cranky driver and I'd walk off the four-way, find a quiet corner, and cry hysterically for the next hour. I thought that would be a bad thing.
Brooding in the back of my mind right now is the question of whether I'll go in tomorrow. Or ever again. I'll let that cook for a while before I bring it back out to have a look.
By now I'm fairly calm, really. Tired, with the sort of quality that suggests long-term exhaustion and a return of at least mild depression. Wondering what to do with free time I hadn't expected. My feet really aren't in horrible shape so long as I don't try to put them in sneakers... even my boots might be acceptable, though those weigh many pounds apiece and would add a whole new set of aches. Best to go barefoot or birk-foot today and try to heal the blisters and severely bruised toes, then figure out what to do about new sneakers after Christmas. Looks like I'll be stuck with New Balance, as I'm getting to the point that even standard men's sizes aren't wide enough.
My mom says I hit this point of disgust with work earlier last year... I'm not convinced, as I don't recall ever having a preternatural dread of even showing up. Even if I did, and don't remember it, Dustin was working security last year; he kept me sane through the tough bits, took over when necessary, and generally acted as advocate for me in the rest of the system. This year Dustin is working over at Fry's, and the closest thing I have is a laconic corporal who is reliable, appreciative, and not nearly the friend Dustin was. Add in the fact that one of the other traffic people has been a no-call no-show for a week now (managed to pick up his paycheck, though) and the other shows up if he feels like it, and the girl acting as Base during weekdays is overloaded, moody, and refuses to take responsibility for making sure I can have a break, and I'm not a happy camper.
People seem to get stupider as I get more tired, too. I don't know how that works.
I was on the five-o'clock news the other day, and a lot of people have stopped me to tell me I have the hardest job in the mall. It's nice to hear that (it is one of the hardest, though top spot is debatable) but it always makes me feel a little odd... I'm almost tempted to tell them to shove it: they think they know what it's like out there, but they honestly have no idea. Then I feel weird about refusing honest sympathy, as they mean well. Maybe it's just the mental space I get into when I'm working, a mixture of cynicism and arrogance, which is absolutely necessary to do the job but really gets in the way in the real world.
I'm having more trouble getting out of the work headspace, though, which is part of the reason I'm thinking about leaving. I mean, they pay me a pittance, and the work is really hard mentally, emotionally, and physically... but I'm not sure they could pay me enough to make up for what it does to my holidays. Putting aside for the moment the fact that it eats Christmas almost totally (though losing the eight days before and the two days after is stressful), I don't like what it does to me. Part of the holiday season is supposed to be a general warmth toward other people, whether it be expressed as a gift, a smile, or just general benevolence. And for me, that usually happens to an extent; I like winter, I like the festivities, and when I'm having a good time I tend to include everyone around me too.
While most of the people I shuffle around every day are sufficiently patient and have at least a modicum of common sense, I also get the idiots and the cranky people. I try to stop cars to protect the pedestrians bent on suicide. I make sure I reinforce the "stop" command for people who vacuously decide that if I tell anyone to go, I must mean them. And I occasionally compliment people on their entitlement complexes. Hour after hour of this, and the cynicism starts to take over... I become convinced that the larger part of the population has very little intelligence, turning cars into dumb beasts (think cows) rather than machines with people inside, and pedestrians into domestic fowl.
I was able to take this good-naturedly last year, commiserating with Dustin and letting it go when I went home. Now... well, maybe I'm just more cynical these days to start with, after the election and with the headlines I see when I forget to avoid the papers. I live in a nation, even in a city, with a whole lot of people I don't respect, because they are simply so lazy they can't be bothered to use that atrophying lump of flesh they have for a brain. And I feel helpless, trying to wade against that tide of bovine ignorance and the corrupt morons who lead them.
Somehow, these are not feelings that lead to "goodwill toward men".
I want my holiday back. Not Christmas, the religious holiday, but the secular Xmas that my brother and I are fond of. A couple of small gifts for family, candy and baked things, catnip and pine needles all over the carpet, and the little crafted ornaments for the tree. Right now it's just a deadline, then a day off before working again on Boxing Day. I need money, but I'm starting to think I don't need it this badly.
Brooding in the back of my mind right now is the question of whether I'll go in tomorrow. Or ever again. I'll let that cook for a while before I bring it back out to have a look.
By now I'm fairly calm, really. Tired, with the sort of quality that suggests long-term exhaustion and a return of at least mild depression. Wondering what to do with free time I hadn't expected. My feet really aren't in horrible shape so long as I don't try to put them in sneakers... even my boots might be acceptable, though those weigh many pounds apiece and would add a whole new set of aches. Best to go barefoot or birk-foot today and try to heal the blisters and severely bruised toes, then figure out what to do about new sneakers after Christmas. Looks like I'll be stuck with New Balance, as I'm getting to the point that even standard men's sizes aren't wide enough.
My mom says I hit this point of disgust with work earlier last year... I'm not convinced, as I don't recall ever having a preternatural dread of even showing up. Even if I did, and don't remember it, Dustin was working security last year; he kept me sane through the tough bits, took over when necessary, and generally acted as advocate for me in the rest of the system. This year Dustin is working over at Fry's, and the closest thing I have is a laconic corporal who is reliable, appreciative, and not nearly the friend Dustin was. Add in the fact that one of the other traffic people has been a no-call no-show for a week now (managed to pick up his paycheck, though) and the other shows up if he feels like it, and the girl acting as Base during weekdays is overloaded, moody, and refuses to take responsibility for making sure I can have a break, and I'm not a happy camper.
People seem to get stupider as I get more tired, too. I don't know how that works.
I was on the five-o'clock news the other day, and a lot of people have stopped me to tell me I have the hardest job in the mall. It's nice to hear that (it is one of the hardest, though top spot is debatable) but it always makes me feel a little odd... I'm almost tempted to tell them to shove it: they think they know what it's like out there, but they honestly have no idea. Then I feel weird about refusing honest sympathy, as they mean well. Maybe it's just the mental space I get into when I'm working, a mixture of cynicism and arrogance, which is absolutely necessary to do the job but really gets in the way in the real world.
I'm having more trouble getting out of the work headspace, though, which is part of the reason I'm thinking about leaving. I mean, they pay me a pittance, and the work is really hard mentally, emotionally, and physically... but I'm not sure they could pay me enough to make up for what it does to my holidays. Putting aside for the moment the fact that it eats Christmas almost totally (though losing the eight days before and the two days after is stressful), I don't like what it does to me. Part of the holiday season is supposed to be a general warmth toward other people, whether it be expressed as a gift, a smile, or just general benevolence. And for me, that usually happens to an extent; I like winter, I like the festivities, and when I'm having a good time I tend to include everyone around me too.
While most of the people I shuffle around every day are sufficiently patient and have at least a modicum of common sense, I also get the idiots and the cranky people. I try to stop cars to protect the pedestrians bent on suicide. I make sure I reinforce the "stop" command for people who vacuously decide that if I tell anyone to go, I must mean them. And I occasionally compliment people on their entitlement complexes. Hour after hour of this, and the cynicism starts to take over... I become convinced that the larger part of the population has very little intelligence, turning cars into dumb beasts (think cows) rather than machines with people inside, and pedestrians into domestic fowl.
I was able to take this good-naturedly last year, commiserating with Dustin and letting it go when I went home. Now... well, maybe I'm just more cynical these days to start with, after the election and with the headlines I see when I forget to avoid the papers. I live in a nation, even in a city, with a whole lot of people I don't respect, because they are simply so lazy they can't be bothered to use that atrophying lump of flesh they have for a brain. And I feel helpless, trying to wade against that tide of bovine ignorance and the corrupt morons who lead them.
Somehow, these are not feelings that lead to "goodwill toward men".
I want my holiday back. Not Christmas, the religious holiday, but the secular Xmas that my brother and I are fond of. A couple of small gifts for family, candy and baked things, catnip and pine needles all over the carpet, and the little crafted ornaments for the tree. Right now it's just a deadline, then a day off before working again on Boxing Day. I need money, but I'm starting to think I don't need it this badly.