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.

Back to the Front

Three days of crutches were three days more than I ever wanted to experience, so I tossed them to the side and limped around with an exoskeleton around my right leg for a month. Now that it's gone, I kinda want it back.

Regular shoes seem inadequate.

I'm still wobbly and weak.

The sadists down at Physical Therapy get to have a go at it now, but in the meantime, I'm confined to desk work.

The problem here is that I like the desk job more than my real job.

A lot more.

I like being behind the scenes, out of view, out of the way..and out of mind.

I'm a little bummed that I'll be fully mobile again, and I'll be slung back into the pit, fully visible, fully functional...and within reach.

No exoskeleton anywhere in sight.

Look Away, Ye Nosy Bosses

It's too bad I can't talk very much about the politics at my job. I'd have a book-length blog-post, and you'd be riveted to the screen, laughing your asses off about the crap I have to put up with most of the time.

I'd tell you how I nearly got fired a couple of weeks ago because a little old lady complained that I was physically aggressive with her (thank Big Brother for video cameras). I'd tell you how the same customer came in a week later and complained to me that one of the other workers was the rudest man she'd ever met (even though he wasn't rude, not even a little bit).

You'd hear all about how one of the assistants was sent home for sleeping in the meat cooler, and later returned with a "doctor's note" stating that he should be excused from remaining in a state of wakefulness while working in the meat market, where we use knives and saws all day.

I'd tell you all about how one assistant manager accused another assistant manager of popping hydros all day, and that's why he was able to work so fast (even though hydros are downers?).

I'd tell you so-and-so's wife calls the store every day to make sure her husband is actually at work, and not somewhere else, messin' around with someone else. (My personal philosophy is that any man who needs to be kept on a leash isn't worth keeping, but to each her own, right?)

I'd tell you how it's best to have an escape plan if you ever find yourself in conversation with a certain someone who is known for talking for forty-five minutes without saying anything of consequence whatsoever.

I'd tell you all the nicknames we give to the regular customers. Rug-man, Juan Valdez, The Red Baron, Nosy Rosie and Spot.

I'd tell you about the guy who kept sending nudie pics of himself to all the girls, even the lesbians, because he was pretty sure he could turn 'em straight.

I'd tell you about the infamous five-dollar-foot-long, and you'd spit coffee through your nose, because that shit is hilarious.

I tell you who does a SPOT ON impression of the big boss, because what kind of boss would he be if we didn't do impressions of him every once in a while?

Maybe I should write the stories anyway. One day, when I've escaped the company, and there's no threat of backlash, I'll publish those embarrassing, revealing, ridiculous sagas, and your sides will ache from all the guffawing, and you'll beg for more, and you'll read them aloud to your friends around the lunch table at your jobs where you wish you could talk about work politics.

But for now, I suppose I'll have to keep them hidden away, and you'll just have to wonder what the hell I meant by "five-dollar-foot-long."

Don't read this. I've ranted.

Today, I decided to quit my job.

Actually, no. I just lied to you. Today, I decided that I can no longer go on in life having any respect for myself if I continue working in that noisy, testosterone-scented, caveman-filled, bad-attitude cesspool of a cutting room.

Not that I hate my job. I rather like my job. It keeps me mobile, and I like doing hard work, and the guys are pretty funny most of the time. Actually, most of the guys are pretty great almost all of the time. We got a couple of bad apples, but it's nothinng I haven't been able to handle up until now.

There's lots of reasons for me to stay: my sweet morning shift, my four weeks of vacation, my eighty hours of personal time, medical, dental, vision, 401k. Need I go on?

But sometimes the guys are also pushy, mean, and disrespectful, which makes me want to be pushy, mean and disrespectful right back. Well of course I have to be the best at everything that I do, on account of that competitive streak I have, so naturally, I become the pushiest, meanest, disrespectfullest bitch in all the land!

And that's not who I want to be.

I want to be pleasant,  and want to be liked by people, and I want to be able to leave my job with some sense of empathy for the rest of the human race. I want to be part of the world that celebrates things, anything at all, even if it's just that I made it through another day.

I can't do that these days. I leave work every day in the most furious rush to get home, slam the door and forget about everybody I came in contact with all day. BECAUSE THEY ALL SUCK ALL OF THE TIME!

(do you see how I get caught up in a continuous loop? "They're cool, we get along--->that guy was rude---->They're all horrible jackasses---->I hate everyone!---> nah, it's not that bad--->That one guy's okay. We get along.")

So when my boss came back from vacation today, I told him I think it's time to redefine my position with the company. There are many different positions I could handle, but I don't think he's taking me very seriously.

I might have to just quit my job.

Nightmare: Power Outage

I was supposed to be working or studying, or something else equally mundane and demanding, but I had been distracted by the power outage. My computer was still glowing on battery back-up, but the room had settled into an uncomfortable, dark silence. I realized then that I had no idea how long it had been that way. I had been so immersed in my studies, I hadn't bothered to acknowledge the world around me. I grabbed my giant, silver flashlight and headed toward the front of the building.

The regular noises were gone. The fans overhead had stopped their roars; bones did not screech against the power of the saw blade; knives did not thunk against the chopping block with each slice of meaty flesh. The silence had grown so loud, the only noise I could hear was the trickle of blood pooling from the cutting board onto the slippery floor.

My co-workers had disappeared. They weren't prowling around, using their cellphones as flashlights as they had done before. Nobody cheered for the break in labor. It seemed that I'd been abandoned, but that extra sense I sometimes get told me the others were simply hiding. From what, I had no idea.
I was determined to find them. Why wouldn't they have warned me of the impending doom? Did nobody think I was important enough to save?

I flicked my light into corners and crevices, searching for familiar faces, but none were found. I moved through the building alone. It had changed since I had sat down at the desk. The sales floor was gone, replaced by more work tables, more machines, more storage shelves. The customers had disappeared as well, I suppose because there was nothing set up on display for them to buy.

I was in the bakery when I heard the first murmurs from the women. I followed the sounds past the big mixers, around the walk-in ovens, beyond the freezer. All things here were covered with a thin coat of flour. My fingers reached out to the baker's block and etched the algebra problem I'd been working on before. Find f(g(-3)) if f(x)=4x-9 and g(x)=3x^2. It looked simple enough, but it might as well have been written in Chinese, because the numbers and letters were just swirling together in one big doughy mess. I grunted and smeared the problem away with a swipe of my hand. It was silly to be standing there working out math problems when I should have been looking for the others.

I found them in a bigger storage room I had never known was there. All the women from all the departments had gathered here. I saw Deadra from Bakery holding hands with Angie the POS clerk. Linda from Fuel was halfway hidden by Dominique from Deli. Janet from the Hot Bar sat in a chair in the center of the room, glaring at me. Each of them cringed away from my beam of light like scared children, except for Janet.

Sweet Janet with the long blond braid and the big smile was hissing at me. She reached forward and knocked the torch from my grasp. My light bounced and rolled into a corner, where it flickered and died. I felt the hot sting of a flesh wound on the back of my hand. I pressed it into my shirt and blinked into the darkness.

We were now shrouded, not just by the darkness, but by a heavy, frightening presence that we could not see. I felt it move past me, an invisible, slippery creature that preys on fear. And it had us. We were frightened. I must have screamed or made some kind of demand for explanation because Janet swung her claw at me again, this time across the face. She told me to shut up, and I was getting pissed at her. When the lights came back on, I was going to kick her ass!

I dropped to the cold concrete floor and began to feel around for the flashlight. The creature, which I couldn't have seen even in the light, ripped me away from myself. It had my body pressed up against the wall, about to tear me to bits, but my spirit remained on the floor looking up. Now that I was no longer confined to the physical laws, I could see the hollow, ugly thing shredding me to pieces, and I knew that the same fate awaited the other women there. I was powerless to stop it. I wondered briefly what had happened to all the men?

I searched the faces of the women, and all I could see was fear and hopelessness. I felt the pain of heartache, although I had no heart. It was then I decided I didn't like being dead. I pulled my body back around me, pushed my fear away and told myself to ...

wake up...