Pfft
Am starting my day off right today … with a cocktail! 🙂 Coffee with hazelnut liqueur is a beautiful way to start a random Tuesday (Tuesdays have always been my least favorite day of the week). And I started smoking again, two days ago. I am limiting my smoking to just when I sit at my computer, or I’d be back to a pack a day.
Was wondering what to say to Demure today, if anything, about my existential discontent with the whole working situation. I mean, this ego-deflating that they do to their talented employees is an absolute disgrace. Shan and I went out last night and pondered how we could survive if we woke up today and decided that’s it — we’re never going back in to the office ever again. How would we survive, financially? As it were, we’re both barely afloat, and we need what little the Veggie Patch calls a salary for us. But we basically sit in the empty office next to me and dream of a day when we decide when we feel like working and what projects will occupy each day. Working for someone else is painful, to put it mildly, and unfortunately, more than half of all employees in the world are serving at the pleasure of someone else.
That big Dawn-bashing fiesta last week sapped my remaining strength. All I did at work for the past few days was surf the Internet and edit submissions. Hey, it all pays the same, whether I do an outstanding or an average job. I know that things will only get worse, when/if they do hire someone to help me. And if they hire someone to serve above me, I think I would die. And I know that if I say all of this to Demure, I most definitely will put the nails into my coffin there for sure — my little raise would go poof!
Shan had a friend at an old job who referred to their workplace as a mausoleum, and that the elevators were really flying coffins. Heh. That beats my Club Medicated/Veggie Patch references any day!
Went to bed rather early last night, in hopes of waking up today and getting cracking on my stories. But instead, I lay in bed this morning and stared at the ceiling fan, searching for solutions to questions only I can ask. I used to be such a fun and enthusiastic person, before I entered the workforce a decade ago. Now I awaken with a, “Oh wonderful, I’ve lived to experience another day of bullshit,” attitude. And that sucks because my social life is picking up and I have people to meet and events to which I can look forward.
I used to drink shots in the mornings before I went to Two Strikes (my former job). It was the only way I could face each morning. My mom instilled worlds of confidence in me, and year after year, I become stripped of that as I work for people who don’t know how to harness my creativity and how to keep my respect, and therefore my dedication, intact. In a way, it’s like I have worked for myself all along — I do not care much for pleasing others — I do my best so I can acquire the skills that the job can teach me, and in turn I will take those skills out the door with me when I give up on said employers. Right now, though, I’m working at 80 percent capacity, and it’s falling rapidly. I always wondered what would have happened at the Veggie Patch Gazette if IKEA Boy and I each gave 100 percent — it would have been an amazing sight to behold. I think, combined, we gave 100 percent, and we still did an above-average job, compared to the other employees.
Well, time to go scrub my butt and begin another joyous cruise to Club Medicated. Something’s got to give, one of these days. I know I’m not going to find my happiness there, but where exactly will I find it?
