A Job

 I don't dream of labor. The ideal job would be writer. But, that ship sailed. I look at the news and realize I am supremely fortunate to have landed where I am professionally. Its ok. Some say good. And it could for sure be worse.

I do want the physicality of moving around. The warehouse job where you actually did something. But, then a chance to just take a break. Stacking pallets? Loading carts up with derelict and leaky UPS batteries? That is a young man's game. I was just helping for a sec. But, I got some important emails to write. 

I don't want to rely on others and chase people down to help. "When will you make it to this client? They called and were upset." "Sorry to chase via email but I need you to sign this agreement!" I don't get hit with the "not my job" very much anymore* but no one has enough time or energy to put out all the fires. Meanwhile I need to stay in my cube.

How nice it is to be emotionally separated from work. It is 5pm and the day is over! Check emails after hours? Who do I look like, the President. But, what do I do know? My therapist will say I was "addicted to chaos" and I pay her to be right. 

These are co-workers. That you like. But, not brothers and sisters like the warehouse job. Not people you are emotionally invested in. That sucks that Deb in Finance is made at me but it is what it is. At the other places? When I was younger? I would be devastated.

I am glad to not give it all my emotions. My love, my anger, and all of my sorrow** But, I want to. Open up and be raw and exposed. To then lash out when it just guts you and leaves you driving back home in silence. No music or nothing. 

*Have worked with custodians who don't clean. Truck drivers who do not back up their trucks. Volunteers who asked to be paid. And school nurses who refuse to take temperatures. 

** G Gundam reference for those in the know.