Mediocrity
One down, four to go. Isn't that a helluva way to have to live one's life? I could, theoretically step off the merry-go-round...and then what? I'm not sure that there's any such thing as the "perfect" job. There's always something about a job that's less than satisfactory: the pay is shit, the hours stink, the commute sucks, the coworkers are assholes or the working conditions bite. It's a given. In this case, the pay is mediocre, there are a few people I'd rather not have to deal with on a day-to-day basis, but mostly it's the conditions, the ever-increasing demands. It's not enough to stick my head in the mouth of one lion after another--now they want me to do it while juggling chainsaws and singing Wagnerian opera. And while music hath charms to soothe the savage beast (or however it goes), I can't carry a tune worth a damn. To cut through the metaphor, trying to keep up with all the paperwork in addition to the phones is killing me.
Right now, the property taxes are the only thing that keep me from saying, Oh, fuck it! and just walking out. Or pitching a royal hissy fit--the effort of NOT pitching said fit has me constantly tense. I've been chided about talking to myself--Hello! I live alone, I'm used to talking to myself!--which they don't seem to comprehend either. So it seems like I'm white-knuckled all the time, trying to rein in my feelings and not start telling people what I think of them. I don't *want* to end up fired, banned from ever walking in the door again--for all my grumping, this has actually been one of the better jobs I've had. I'm just really burned out, and if this other position doesn't come through--!
I owe people e-mails, but tonight, I'm just too tired. Sorry, love. Maybe I'll feel better in the morning.
Right now, the property taxes are the only thing that keep me from saying, Oh, fuck it! and just walking out. Or pitching a royal hissy fit--the effort of NOT pitching said fit has me constantly tense. I've been chided about talking to myself--Hello! I live alone, I'm used to talking to myself!--which they don't seem to comprehend either. So it seems like I'm white-knuckled all the time, trying to rein in my feelings and not start telling people what I think of them. I don't *want* to end up fired, banned from ever walking in the door again--for all my grumping, this has actually been one of the better jobs I've had. I'm just really burned out, and if this other position doesn't come through--!
I owe people e-mails, but tonight, I'm just too tired. Sorry, love. Maybe I'll feel better in the morning.