Work, Work, Work

Work’s been a bitch lately.


By “lately”, I mean the last few years.

 

Only since about 1987 or so.

 

 But seriously, the last five years especially have been rough. I had a rough time in my twenties finding a job I could stick with. I finally did, and I was there for fifteen years, then my location was shut down and I (along with nearly everybody else there) was out on my ass. Business is business, and I don’t have any hard feelings – I’m still an occasional customer of that company. However, in five years, I still haven’t lasted a full year at any job. It’s like I’m a twenty-something again, only this time with bigger bills and heavier obligations (like child support and insurance and grown up stuff).

There’s always been some reason or other they don’t work out. Right now, I’m dealing with a couple of supervisors that are particularly hard to get along with. If I’m too formal or neutral with them, I get accused of being hostile. If I’m too friendly, then either they take it as some kind of challenge or misinterpret something I say as an attack. Or something I say as an attempt at light hearted humor comes back to bite me on the ass when they use it against me later. When they get upset, they consider it perfectly acceptable to raise their voices and yell, but then if we react negatively to being yelled at, it’s us that have the bad attitude. Sorry, but this is a grocery store, not Boot Camp – you don’t get to treat me that way and have a free pass. I don’t know what to do. I already feel like my schedule is being written in a way to get back at me for an imagined slight. Yet, there’s nothing about it that breaks any rules, so I can’t make any official complaint. Rock to the left, hard place to the right. I can literally feel my blood pressure increase on my way to work.

Of course, sometimes I wonder. With all the failed jobs, all the stalled attempts at the proverbial “fresh start”, maybe the problem is me? Or it’s them and me both? Honestly, with all the jobs I’ve had the last few years, I think I’ve probably hit every point on that spectrum. I know I can be hard to get along with, and let’s face it – it’s harder to learn new things in your forties than it was in your twenties, and that frustrates me. Frustrated me is even harder to get along with. I did get a psychiatric discharge from the Navy, so obviously there’s something wrong with my metal functionality. I do kind of feel like I’ve been getting in my own way most of my life.

My big problem is that I really hate working. It’s not that I’m lazy – some of the jobs I’ve enjoyed have involved more physical labor. I don’t mind working hard when I’m into something. It’s just a severe lack of motivation. Like the country song said, “my give-a-damn’s busted”. Even jobs I like at first will sooner or later just become soul numbing, boring drudgery, and I can’t deal with that. It can sometimes take a lot of mental exertion just to get myself to go to work, and then to keep doing whatever mindless task I’m being paid to do. Sometimes I just want to say “fuck it all”. I oscillate between depressive symptoms and anxiety symptoms a lot.

Does anybody else ever get a pain in their chest at work, creeping into their arm, and kind of get their hopes up for a minute, then the pain goes away and you’re left a little disappointed? No? Just me? Oh, okay. Yeah, never mind.

But in the meantime, I still have to earn a check. But I have to keep my guard up, too. For my own dignity and for what little shred of mental health I have left,too.

Then it occurs to me. I already have the answer. It’s even tattooed on my collarbone! Illegitimi non carborundum: Don’t let the bastards grind you down. Sure, it’s not true Latin, but it sure sounds good, and I’m all for playing around with words. These bastards, I’ve been letting them grind me down. I’m about ground smooth, too. But it’s making me harder in the process, like grinding a gemstone to make it ready for a ring. I’m not sure they’re going to like how I shine, but I’m done letting them grind me down.


More later.

Hand Grenades and HorseShoes, The Return

No more excuses. No more lazy Netflix binges. No more fear of the blank screen.

I used to write on a regular basis, but a couple of years ago, I fell into some sort of depression that left me without motivation to do it. Sure, I’d feel the urge here and there, but by the time I had the chance to sit down and hit the keyboard, I’d lost the will. Or I was worried it wouldn’t be any good.

Well, fuck it. I want to be that guy who’s always writing. I’ve made some tentative pokes at both of my blogs, but nothing regular. That stops now. I may not necessarily post everything I write, and I may not sit down at the computer every single day at first, but I’m going to write.

You know what? My topics may not be consistent. I’m all right with that. This is just going to be my “brain dump” blog. If you want more focused content, check out my bike blog: https://ridinandwritin.blogspot.com/

 

I have two memes I’m using to kick my own ass into gear. I’m sharing them in this post. I’m not the owner or creator of either and I don’t claim to be, so don’t get your panties in a twist in concerns of plagiarism or “appropriation” of content. It’ll be okay. I promise.

So, anyway, I’m back, y’all. I’m ready to toss some hand grenades, or some horseshoes. All depends on the mood of the day.