As Always, Misery
It's only when I'm feeling rageworthy with nothing to unleash my fury on, no outlet to just let loose, that I even think of LiveJournal which is just a way to let me vent so I don't wander around the house for the next three hours stifling screams, punching walls at random intervals, and spirallig down into an abyss of self-hate for the circumstances I put myself in.
And it's really nothing terrible. I'm just not going out partying on New Years' Eve. It's nothing new, it's the same quiet night at home every year, or everry day. This year I just thought I'd be out partying it up with some friends but they totally forgot about me, never got my texts, and were already at the party and getting hammered when I finally called half hour ago. Too bad they're in North Attleboro, all of them are my usual rides, my sister is off the radar for the night, and I'md efinitely not going to ask bah humbugging dad or sleeping for work tomorrow mom (especially just to go twenty miles to a party, especially as I'm 24) for a ride, not this late, not for this. I'm just freaking pissed that all my hopes were dashed. I turned aside two other party offers today for this and I got bailed on. I don't even know how to contact for the others, especially since my texts don't seem to be sending out. Maybe DJ really did text me Tuesday and I only got it yesterday. What the fuck, phone.
Ahhh... so I haven't posted since April? Might as well spend New Years cataloging the year to occupy my headspace from self-misery and desire for homicide. Goddamn I am pissed. I was such a happy clam all day because I was lookig forward to FINALLY going to Casey's after all the talk about how bomb his parties were, but no, fucking bailed on for one AGAIN. That's the third time. And they always tell me I should come, I should come. FUCK.
Alright, the good stuff. I am now employed. Yup yup! Both part-time and formerly fulltime. Sometime in September, I got that itch to do something and roamed around for job applications. In the past, whenever I did this, I would get absolutely zero response. I figured not hearing from anyone for weeks was the norm. Census took three months to even give me a call. So I was surprised when two of the places called that night. It was incredible. I had no idea what to do besides go and do interviews.
Bombed Christmas Tree Shops. Just completely did terrible. I tried to prepare but I was definitely not. Of course, it was my first interview so I didn't know too much of what to expect. So the next day, at volunteer work, I asked Roz to help me out with a mock interview if she had the time. She told me to go to Christine since she does them. Went to her, she told me she may or may not have a job opening by Monday depending on whether someone would or would not show up in the next three days. Stunned, I actually did a real interview and application for housekeeping at the Doolittle Home. Which was awesome / terrifying / startling/ impulsive / unnerving. I was told it was probably going to be temporary and that I'd find out on Monday.
Also, that night, interviewed at Showcase Cinemas. Had an excellent conversation / interview with the manager and got hired. I was told later that a lot of my hire was for how well I did on my interview. Yay adrenaline!
So I started both Box Office Cashier and First Floor Housekeeping on 9/19/2011. I went from 0 hours a week to 55+ in one day. It was thrilling.
I left working for the Doolittle two months in. It wasn't the stress of so many hours that got to me I don't think. It was everything else that I didn't know how to properly deal with (and part of why I was so hung up on whether I should go to college or not):
1. My own self-worth and self-confidence. I had no trust in what I was doing. Even though there were no major infections or diseases there and that I wasn't going to make anyone sick, I still worried constantly about how well I was really doing my job and continually questioned everything I was doing. I was worried that whatever I did or didn't do would be harmful at some point to the residents that I've been visiting for four years now and I couldn't sleep at night worrying so much about doorknobs and toilets and beds and everything. My last day before I finally, FINALLY (and I say that even though it had only been six weeks! SERIOUSLY?), put in my two weeks, I went to urgent care for a stress headache I'd never experienced before. When I called my mom in worry, she thought I was on the verge of a stroke. Quite fun.
2. My supervisor had a two week vacation a week in. It's part of the reason I so readily took it. I knew that going in. I was there to help out while he went away because there was no way he could get a new guy in a week's notice. I was there to be temp and that's what I expected going in. I did not expect him to actually be gone TWO weeks instead of one, to get completely different information about the products I was using from people who were supposed to help me out, a list of things to do every week where daily tasks would cover ten+ hours when I only have eight (seven without breaks) to work with (and which wasn't clarified as somewhat optional until I had already filed even after multiple questions with regards towards it), the residents of that past four years to suddenly seem a lot more... depressing. Anne, the kindly possibly racist 102-year-old woman was even more of a critic and chronic worrier and fearmongerer than I had ever known; Frannie was bipolar; there were feuds between the morning bowlers and a few of the residents where all parties aside from Stan were in the wrong; and it was just... the veneer of being there two hours every Wednesday that this was a wonderful place got exposed as a depressing, stressful, lax, much less friendly version than I had been exposed to and it hurt. If I didn't know the place, I'd probably still be there, but I knew everyone there, and just scratching at the surface of the underbelly freaked me out to no end. It still does. I almost hate going back there now. Four years of love and it's rocky now. And as part of #1, I feel my presence makes it worse.
3. For the first time in years, the state safety inspectors came in. On my second week. On Phil's first week of vacation. When I'm still 99% clueless instead of 90%... yeah, I'm still reeling. Even though they got best in the state. So what am I so worried about?
4. Cluelessness. I really still have no idea what I was doing. It was basic housekeeping, but I have no idea what I was doing. I asked questions, I did my best, but I still never thought it was good enough. My third day there I broke down saying I wasn't right for this job. Just completely broke down because I was too worried about everyone and everything. My first day I cleaned up poop and I thought it was awesome, but just doing the same thing every day and never knwoing if what I was doing was right... I couldn't stand it.
I don't know. Do I miss it? Somewhat. As a temporary job, it was awesome. And hell, after I put in my two weeks and stopped worrying so much about the next day or the day after? A breeze. Hell, with a new soap dispenser for the mops the next week, my ten-hour workloads pared down to six and instead of trying to fit everything I could into a day, I was trying to stretch it out because I already had everything done. My last week, I had finished all the rooms (even non-resident rooms) and deepcleaned thoroughly by Wednesday. I was done for the week except for dailies and twice-dailies. One extreme to the other. I didn't want to be lazy, but I did everything. Windows were washed, mirrors were cleaned, stuff that hadn't been touched in years was done my first weeks. I was volunteering for things and being more social, but damn that was a long, never-ending stretch. The day goes by too quickly with things to do, but not nearly quick enough with time to spare.
5. The buffing machine. FUCK THAT THING.
So, yeah, no more Doolittle Home. No more bi-weekly 600 dollar checks. I definitely miss the people. The nurses were all friendly and amazing, I love the residents and I was finally getting into my groove after I went bye-bye. But hey, I made my decision and I'm sticking to it. And I love that the guy they hired knows what he's doing and has a great, friendly sense of humor. He's awesome.
But I'm still at Showcase. Even put in more hours for availability. This week has been insane working there, but it's been exciting. A lot of people like me, I think I'm doing a good job, and while of course I'll worry every once in a while, it's usually not life or death which I can appreciate. It's still stressful at times, but I'm always smiling.
It's just too bad I turned down Jacky's party invite and Lauren didn't invite me the other night or else I'd be around somewhere fun right now instead of typing bullshit into my computer. FUCKING ABDOU WHAT THE FUCK. No Christmas presents for you next year.
And no, I still will not drive even though it would totally help in this situation. Why not?
Because while it would help me get there, I wouldn't want to chance being too ballsy on SoCo to drive myself home. So I wouldn't have driven anyway. Or something. I dunno. Fuck I don't want to be here right now and I have no idea where the last few prescribed Valium from the stress headache are because I would love one right now.
Or a drink.
Or a friend.
Or just something that isn't sitting here in front of my computer while dad has the hockey game on and everyone else in the world and in my life is having a good time.
And it's really nothing terrible. I'm just not going out partying on New Years' Eve. It's nothing new, it's the same quiet night at home every year, or everry day. This year I just thought I'd be out partying it up with some friends but they totally forgot about me, never got my texts, and were already at the party and getting hammered when I finally called half hour ago. Too bad they're in North Attleboro, all of them are my usual rides, my sister is off the radar for the night, and I'md efinitely not going to ask bah humbugging dad or sleeping for work tomorrow mom (especially just to go twenty miles to a party, especially as I'm 24) for a ride, not this late, not for this. I'm just freaking pissed that all my hopes were dashed. I turned aside two other party offers today for this and I got bailed on. I don't even know how to contact for the others, especially since my texts don't seem to be sending out. Maybe DJ really did text me Tuesday and I only got it yesterday. What the fuck, phone.
Ahhh... so I haven't posted since April? Might as well spend New Years cataloging the year to occupy my headspace from self-misery and desire for homicide. Goddamn I am pissed. I was such a happy clam all day because I was lookig forward to FINALLY going to Casey's after all the talk about how bomb his parties were, but no, fucking bailed on for one AGAIN. That's the third time. And they always tell me I should come, I should come. FUCK.
Alright, the good stuff. I am now employed. Yup yup! Both part-time and formerly fulltime. Sometime in September, I got that itch to do something and roamed around for job applications. In the past, whenever I did this, I would get absolutely zero response. I figured not hearing from anyone for weeks was the norm. Census took three months to even give me a call. So I was surprised when two of the places called that night. It was incredible. I had no idea what to do besides go and do interviews.
Bombed Christmas Tree Shops. Just completely did terrible. I tried to prepare but I was definitely not. Of course, it was my first interview so I didn't know too much of what to expect. So the next day, at volunteer work, I asked Roz to help me out with a mock interview if she had the time. She told me to go to Christine since she does them. Went to her, she told me she may or may not have a job opening by Monday depending on whether someone would or would not show up in the next three days. Stunned, I actually did a real interview and application for housekeeping at the Doolittle Home. Which was awesome / terrifying / startling/ impulsive / unnerving. I was told it was probably going to be temporary and that I'd find out on Monday.
Also, that night, interviewed at Showcase Cinemas. Had an excellent conversation / interview with the manager and got hired. I was told later that a lot of my hire was for how well I did on my interview. Yay adrenaline!
So I started both Box Office Cashier and First Floor Housekeeping on 9/19/2011. I went from 0 hours a week to 55+ in one day. It was thrilling.
I left working for the Doolittle two months in. It wasn't the stress of so many hours that got to me I don't think. It was everything else that I didn't know how to properly deal with (and part of why I was so hung up on whether I should go to college or not):
1. My own self-worth and self-confidence. I had no trust in what I was doing. Even though there were no major infections or diseases there and that I wasn't going to make anyone sick, I still worried constantly about how well I was really doing my job and continually questioned everything I was doing. I was worried that whatever I did or didn't do would be harmful at some point to the residents that I've been visiting for four years now and I couldn't sleep at night worrying so much about doorknobs and toilets and beds and everything. My last day before I finally, FINALLY (and I say that even though it had only been six weeks! SERIOUSLY?), put in my two weeks, I went to urgent care for a stress headache I'd never experienced before. When I called my mom in worry, she thought I was on the verge of a stroke. Quite fun.
2. My supervisor had a two week vacation a week in. It's part of the reason I so readily took it. I knew that going in. I was there to help out while he went away because there was no way he could get a new guy in a week's notice. I was there to be temp and that's what I expected going in. I did not expect him to actually be gone TWO weeks instead of one, to get completely different information about the products I was using from people who were supposed to help me out, a list of things to do every week where daily tasks would cover ten+ hours when I only have eight (seven without breaks) to work with (and which wasn't clarified as somewhat optional until I had already filed even after multiple questions with regards towards it), the residents of that past four years to suddenly seem a lot more... depressing. Anne, the kindly possibly racist 102-year-old woman was even more of a critic and chronic worrier and fearmongerer than I had ever known; Frannie was bipolar; there were feuds between the morning bowlers and a few of the residents where all parties aside from Stan were in the wrong; and it was just... the veneer of being there two hours every Wednesday that this was a wonderful place got exposed as a depressing, stressful, lax, much less friendly version than I had been exposed to and it hurt. If I didn't know the place, I'd probably still be there, but I knew everyone there, and just scratching at the surface of the underbelly freaked me out to no end. It still does. I almost hate going back there now. Four years of love and it's rocky now. And as part of #1, I feel my presence makes it worse.
3. For the first time in years, the state safety inspectors came in. On my second week. On Phil's first week of vacation. When I'm still 99% clueless instead of 90%... yeah, I'm still reeling. Even though they got best in the state. So what am I so worried about?
4. Cluelessness. I really still have no idea what I was doing. It was basic housekeeping, but I have no idea what I was doing. I asked questions, I did my best, but I still never thought it was good enough. My third day there I broke down saying I wasn't right for this job. Just completely broke down because I was too worried about everyone and everything. My first day I cleaned up poop and I thought it was awesome, but just doing the same thing every day and never knwoing if what I was doing was right... I couldn't stand it.
I don't know. Do I miss it? Somewhat. As a temporary job, it was awesome. And hell, after I put in my two weeks and stopped worrying so much about the next day or the day after? A breeze. Hell, with a new soap dispenser for the mops the next week, my ten-hour workloads pared down to six and instead of trying to fit everything I could into a day, I was trying to stretch it out because I already had everything done. My last week, I had finished all the rooms (even non-resident rooms) and deepcleaned thoroughly by Wednesday. I was done for the week except for dailies and twice-dailies. One extreme to the other. I didn't want to be lazy, but I did everything. Windows were washed, mirrors were cleaned, stuff that hadn't been touched in years was done my first weeks. I was volunteering for things and being more social, but damn that was a long, never-ending stretch. The day goes by too quickly with things to do, but not nearly quick enough with time to spare.
5. The buffing machine. FUCK THAT THING.
So, yeah, no more Doolittle Home. No more bi-weekly 600 dollar checks. I definitely miss the people. The nurses were all friendly and amazing, I love the residents and I was finally getting into my groove after I went bye-bye. But hey, I made my decision and I'm sticking to it. And I love that the guy they hired knows what he's doing and has a great, friendly sense of humor. He's awesome.
But I'm still at Showcase. Even put in more hours for availability. This week has been insane working there, but it's been exciting. A lot of people like me, I think I'm doing a good job, and while of course I'll worry every once in a while, it's usually not life or death which I can appreciate. It's still stressful at times, but I'm always smiling.
It's just too bad I turned down Jacky's party invite and Lauren didn't invite me the other night or else I'd be around somewhere fun right now instead of typing bullshit into my computer. FUCKING ABDOU WHAT THE FUCK. No Christmas presents for you next year.
And no, I still will not drive even though it would totally help in this situation. Why not?
Because while it would help me get there, I wouldn't want to chance being too ballsy on SoCo to drive myself home. So I wouldn't have driven anyway. Or something. I dunno. Fuck I don't want to be here right now and I have no idea where the last few prescribed Valium from the stress headache are because I would love one right now.
Or a drink.
Or a friend.
Or just something that isn't sitting here in front of my computer while dad has the hockey game on and everyone else in the world and in my life is having a good time.