I really don’t like myself when I complain too much, and I really do believe I’m so lucky, just fortunate in so many ways. It seems not only unattractive to complain and whine, but also inappropriate, or just wrong. But some days are a little more rough than others, and sometimes interestingly so, at least enough to write about briefly. Today was just pretty significantly exhausting in more way than one. Another work day at my job I don’t like, and I was thinking how this was the longest week and a half of work I’ve ever experienced. This is not the way to start a year, I was thinking, unless I can somehow insure that it just gets better, which of course I can’t. But in fact, when I think about it for two seconds, I think about how good I do have it, everything, compared to so many people.
Anyway, I’ve been working at this place as a kind of temp (though more permanent and regular than a temp) at the same place for two and a half years. Today they unofficially offered to hire me as a regular employee, which would mean a significant increase in pay. So, as positive as that should be, I felt conflicted, thinking, really, shouldn’t I find a whole different job, a better paying job, a job I like better, and just generally something new? Of course it’s still a really rough time for finding a job, and this is a rough town for finding a job, especially for someone like me who is now officially “older” and who doesn’t have job skills that match up with what a lot of employers consider important. But would saying "yes" be like flashing my ID at the Gates of Hell? So in a way, I felt excited, but conflicted. A little emotional, which, you know, contributes to letting your guard down.
While considering all this, I got yelled at really inappropriately for something that was not my fault, but of course you can never stick up for yourself (considered “crazy” behavior)—it’s like telling them “you’re wrong.” Well, as I often dwell on, I am really not good about getting blamed for something that I shouldn’t be blamed for, ever since that grade school bus driver marched into the back of the bus and beat me over the head with his plastic ball bat, for fighting, which I was not, of course. I know I should just get over that, Dr. Cochrane, but you know, if I haven’t gotten over it in like forty years, it’s not likely to happen any time soon.
Escaping the workplace each day isn’t the end, there is still the subway to deal with, and the grocery store, and generally the population. I think that New York is the most amazing place I’ve ever lived, in that there are so many people at such close quarters, yet such tolerance and really, mellowness, relatively, anyway. But still, some days I just want to get home untouched, un-talked-to, and when I do get home for the evening, it’s such a relief. Due to the day’s mega-stress, I decided to take a hot bath, and in the middle of my bath I heard banging out in the hall, though nothing too alarming, and then Cindy called, just arriving outside, I guess, and said there where fire trucks and an ambulance outside. So I looked out in the hall for smoke, and there was fireman coming down the stairs from the roof. He went by my bike, which is locked to a railing in the hall, hitting it with his fire axe.
I asked, “What’s going on?” wondering if I should get dressed and get out of the building, naturally, or what. He just mumbled something unintelligible, then said, “You can’t have your bike in the hall. Get it out of the hall.” Then he proceeded down the stairs. I assumed, at that point, there was not a raging fire, at least. I'm sure firefighters have a stressful job, and more false alarms that you can imagine, and get tired of hearing things like, “Is there a fire?” but hell, from my point of view it wasn’t like this was a real person, or a real even. It was just one more asshole this day was throwing at me before I finally got to relax. But then, I guess you have to add, at least it wasn't a fire.
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