I Wasn't There for the Ambience

An old boss of mine once told me that a girl like me ought to be happy just to have a job--a girl with four kids, no husband, and no degree. He listed those things specifically.

I was asking him for a raise, and I deserved one. I did not get one.

This is the same boss who, when another female coworker of mine decided she wanted to be a firefighter, accused her of "trying to be a man" because she "wanted a man's job."

Great guy, that old boss of mine.

Since that time, I have attended University full-time while working full-time, graduated Summa Cum Laude with a 4.0 GPA, moved into a different department at work, got a few promotions, and now spend quite a bit of time giving high fives to all my team members, male and female alike.

I bought a house, took a trip to London, got published a few times, survived my first car wreck, found new hobbies, revisited old hobbies, volunteered, made tons of friends outside my normal circle, and pretty much had the best time of my life focusing on my own growth.

All of this I did without the critical financial, moral, or emotional support of a husband.

Go figure.

Going through it all, I supposed it was easier to NOT have a man than it was to have one. I had more freedom to NOT do regular chores around the house. I wasn't expected to keep the house clean or do grocery shopping or any of the stupid things women complain about "having" to do all the time.

Eff that.

Pretty quick after I graduated, "Arturo" swooped in and scooped me up. It was a bold move. I had turned down a few men already, and I had planned to continue being single, seeing that it was working so well for me up until that point.

The funny thing about Arturo is he's a real man's man. He shows up for life, works hard for his paycheck, has muscles and stamina, works on cars, likes his privacy. Not the kind of guy I thought I'd ever be attracted to again. I was imagining I'd find a nerd like me with a couple of degrees and a passion for philosophy and art.

When he asked me out he said, "You wanna get together for coffee and talk about Shakespeare?"

Ummm...okay.

We've been together for over a year now, and I have no idea where we go from here. The only thing I know is that I don't need him. I am perfectly fine on my own. And that simple fact adds value to our relationship. I don't need him around; I want him around.

And that's the kind of girl I want to be. A girl like me.

Obliviate

I think I deleted one picture too many. My photo has disappeared from comments, and therefore, in the sadness of my lonely imagination, I must have disappeared as well. I waved some magic cyber wand, chanted a quiet invisibilty spell, and slipped away without a peep.

Or at least my picture did.

There's a certain anxiety that emerges when I see myself displayed as a blocky negative sign. What does that really mean, anyway? Do I take away instead of giving? Am I losing? I put one of the old photos back up, just in case you folks forgot what I don't actually look like.

Of course, it is me in the pic, but it's misleading. I'm usually make up free, sporting a frumpy mess of a bun and wearing jammies. Glamor Girl, all the way.

I didn't quit my job...yet.

Foolish Anniversaries

I went to my job interview with torn jeans, ratty hair and baby sludge on my shirt. It really couldn't be helped. I'd been inadvertently locked out of the women's shelter and couldn't get a shower in time for the meeting. I was so embarrassed, I almost didn't show up.

Angie didn't want to hire me. I could tell by the look in her eyes. I looked like hell, and I was unsure of my availability. She frowned at my outfit, and clucked her tongue at my application.

I had been sent to her through a friend of a friend to beg for a job. She'd been coerced to give me the interview. She'd made no promises about employment.

I wouldn't have hired me.

I was a mess, emotionally as well as aesthetically.

I lied through my teeth when I told her I had a reliable baby-sitter for the four babies I'd left at my mom's for a half hour just so I could make it to the interview.

She offered me a wage that she knew was far less than what I was worth and evening hours. I tried not to let it bother me that much. I was determined to provide for myself, and I needed a job that had room for growth. I took what I could get and was grateful for it.

She'd hired me as a part-timer, but within two weeks she bumped me up to forty a week. Two months went by before she switched me to daytime hours. A year passed before I started receiving benefits.

Fifteen years have gone by. Angie no longer works for the company, but I still do. I'm in the "big city" now, and as chance would have it, Angie is here, too. I see her every once in a while. We never reminisce. We are both "here and now" girls, and so it is always good to see her here, now.

I have a hard time understanding how I haven't been written up, reprimanded, fired, or set on fire, not even once, over fifteen years. I am sure some of my co-workers, and maybe a couple of bosses have wanted to stab me at some point. I am loud, rude, bossy, demanding, opinionated...the list goes on.

Of course, I am also a fast learner, good teacher, a good listener, a hard worker, dependable to a fault. I am intelligent, creative and proud. I've enjoyed the company of most of my co-workers as well as my bosses- some more than others. It's never been about the job, for me. It's always been about the people I work with. The job is thankless. The people are priceless.

If they haven't been friends, they've at least been entertaining. Faces and names come and go and come back again, each one bringing something new into my wonderful, ordinary life. Kim gave me confidence; Jay taught me tolerance; Ashley brought me friendship; Sandy gave us toilet paper; Johnny just liked to give me a hard time. That's his way. I've been frustrated more often than not, but that fades away as soon as I punch that time clock. There's no sense in being miserable if I'm not getting paid for it. Life is too short.

I thought I'd work for a year until something better came along, but here I am looking back on fifteen years....

I've been a checker, deli girl, cook, doughnut maker, cake decorator, bread baker. I've worked in the meat market for ten years now, bossing boys around, but I'm not the boss. I've never been a manager, and never wanted to be anything that meant I'd have to sit at a desk for very long or bullshit with anybody wearing a tie. Of all the addictions that run in my family, I got stuck being a workaholic. Go figure.

I'm still waiting for Angie to call me up and say, "April Fools! You didn't get the job after all!" But she never has, and here I am fifteen years later with Medical, Dental and 401k.

The nicest thing about hitting the fifteen year mark is that I now get four weeks every year of paid vacation. When I get back from vacation, people hug me. I'm not sure if this is because they missed me or because they are tired of doing my job in my absence. Either way, more vacations means more hugs. Can't beat that.

I also get to pick an anniversary gift from a special catalogue. I chose a new MP3 player this time around. The old one had just fizzled out. Pretty good timing, if you ask me.
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