Work Ethic

Standard

Some days I have a real hard time in the mornings.  For whatever reason, since I was diagnosed with Crohns Disease 6 years ago, mornings are really rough for me.  Even when I’m in remission, I still spend more time in the bathroom than I’d like to. 

Either way, today was one of those rough days.  I was totally feeling like shit (no pun intended) and wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed.  Instead, I didn’t want to leave my girls to the wolves (also known as the Monday Craziness) so I got moving.  Sometimes it takes all I have to keep a smile on my face until 5pm.  That’s just how it is with a Chronic Illness. 

Sometimes I get bitter though.  I wish I didn’t have so much pride in my job.  I am very proud of myself for supporting my family and doing what I have to.  It’s hard watching my generation flake out when I’m doing my best to muster through a bad day. 

For instance, my sister quit her job just because she didn’t like it.  That’s her prerogative, how she’s handling it after the fact is another story though.  So when I’m hauling my butt to work, and others just quit because they don’t like what they’re doing, I get bitter.  It’s almost jealousy, but not quite.  I could never sit at home depending on someone else again, my marriage taught me that. Some days its just rough is all.

Which got me thinking.  What happened to my generations work ethic?  I grew up in a working class home, my father worked on cars.  I watched him bust ass to care for us, even though his job pissed him off.  I’m proud to have grown up with such a great father with an awesome work ethic.  It’s what fuels me through my bad days, and what I use for an example.  Hell, my mother worked an office job, similar to the position I started in… and worked it through cancer.  Pretty damned impressive if you ask me.

So while my generation may be lacking in the pride in a hard day’s work, or hell, not even working at all… or even in my sister’s case, looking down on someone who works a working class job (like both her parents and now myself do) while they have no employment of their own. I’ll take pride in the industry I work in (and love) and I only can hope that that I instill the same pride in my daughter.  I hope that by setting a good example, even if some days I’m sick and don’t particularly want to, I’ll teach her to take pride in whatever she chooses to do.  I hope I teach her to have a good work ethic and do something she enjoys as well… whether or not she has a college degree to back it up. 

I guess the moral of the story is take pride in what you do, and do it well.  If you’re lucky like me and get a job doing something you love, take it and run with it and be proud!

Advertisements

A Balancing Act

Standard

So after the past few weeks, I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting on the past few years.  It’s been a pretty hectic ride, went from miserable wife, to single mom, to single mom working multiple jobs to a long-term relationship working one full time job.  The one thing I have to admit is that I’m horrible at finding that balance between mom, girlfriend and employee.

I’ve always had a hard time trying to spread myself out equally among each aspect of my life.  Honestly though, now that I found an industry I’d like to build a career in, I’m having the most difficult time yet.  When I was freshly-divorced, I was working 2 and sometimes 3 jobs with an odd (and often revolving) mixture of full-time and part-time.  I had to learn how to go from a Stay at Home Mom to a single mom busting ass with no child support.  For some odd reason, I didn’t have a problem at all back then.  It might have been because those jobs were all quick blow through jobs.  You know, shitty jobs that I didn’t care about.  That I didn’t dwell on once I left after my shift.  I could go and drop my kiddo off at childcare, go to job A, finish and go to job B and finish my shift.  Then Work-Me was switched off, and I was back to Mom-Me.  I didn’t let work related stress react with the way I was parenting (I tried my best with financial stress, but sometimes that leaked through. Now that I’m older and have “mom friends” I realize that this is normal).

Now, I’m having a hard time balancing.  I can’t seem to lock out the stress from the office from my home-life.  I can’t seem to balance all the different aspects of me.  Work-me stays stressed out far past when I should be in Mom-me-mode.  And girlfriend me?  Well… girlfriend me shows up eventually. Girlfriend-me comes in last here, with working full-time, I try and overcompensate and smoosh as many activities into the time I do have with my daughter to make up for the time I miss with her at work.  It seems like I can’t win sometimes. 

Thankfully, my boyfriend knows what has been bugging me at the office and he also knows how much it bothers me that I’m not able to be at home with my daughter.  He’s heard my rampages regarding how I wanted my family to work and how I feel like shit that I have to work.  (And yes, even when I’m pissed like this… the divorce was totally worth it!!)  So he understands, most definitely, and knows I’m making an attempt to spend time with him too.

I’m getting better at it though.  The stress from work is still following me home, but it’s quickly chased away with iced coffee (or wine) out on the back deck while my kid plays.  Ry and I have taken to spending half an hour together after work and before dinner to just vent about our days or talk in general.  It’s like taking half an hour to shake off the stress.  Usually during this time, the kid is either playing outside or working on her homework (since when do 1st graders have homework 4 out of 5 nights?!) so she gets her stuff done.

I’ve learned no work talk during the weekends.  None.  Absolutely none.  Not even during our morning coffee.  It creates a mini-vacation.  We’ve also been making it a point to go somewhere each weekend, even if it’s just to the forest preserve or to wander around some downtown area each weekend.  If I’m busy, Work-Me takes a hike and I can focus on my family, instead of the 20 voicemails I’ll be walking into on Monday.  These new rules for the weekend are one of the many reasons I try to not work Saturdays.  I’m away from my house on average 50 hours a week.  It doesn’t sound like much to most people, but to a former Stay at Home Mom, that’s a lot.  My weekends are mine.

I honestly think the biggest improvement I’ve made?  I sit down and help my daughter with her homework or read a book (I have a big time reader thank god!) every night.  I put the chores off and sit down and do it.  Working with her, reading her stories, or even going outside to play puts the work-stress right out of my head.  (And I most definitely would put off folding laundry to read a Dr. Seuss book any day of the week!)

I’m not perfect, and I’m most definitely still learning the art of balancing.  I do have to say though… being a stay at home mom was hard.  It was HARD, I know a lot of people don’t think it is.  I know with staying at home I felt like I lost my identity and almost lost myself.  Being a Stay at Home Mom is most definitely a trying and a full time 24/7 job.  However, being a working mother?  It’s a whole different set of hard.  I don’t think it’s more difficult than staying at home, but I do think that it’s a whole different kind of difficult.  Even after, what, almost 4 years or so?  I still don’t have the hang of it.  That’s okay though, I’ll figure it out one day… until then, wish me luck!

Stand Up and Step Up

Standard

Being a single parent is hard work.  I would know.  Divorced and all of that hoopla, it happens, and unfortunately is pretty common.  I was not the best mom at first, I had to fight with my new found freedom and learn how to do everything on my own again while dealing with active Crohns Disease.

It took me a bit, a year of fucking up to be exact, but I did it.  I stay out of the bars (except for  a rare and precious night out… which I usually stay sober for.  Whodathunk?), I save my money, and I work on spending time with my family and providing a wonderful life for my daughter.  It’s hard work, it really is.  But to know that I am completely 100% self-sustained and my daughter doesn’t want for anything (beyond “ICE CREAM MAN MOOOOM”) makes me proud.  I’ve done it all on my own, and now my home is even more stable and loving with Ryan in it.  You all know how messed up my thinking had got there for a while.  I’ll admit it, purely to prove that you can get through it.  Especially if you have kids.  Because of that though, I’m pretty tough on other single moms.

I’m sure you know the stereotype.  Mom with a scraggly looking kid, standing in line at the welfare office, nails done, hair dyed, brand spanking new iPhone5 in her hand.  I *hate* that stereotype.  Actually, hate is a pretty mild way of putting it.  I do everything I can to not be that mom.  I busted my ass to get on my own two feet and give my daughter a better life.  I just want to scream when I see it, or even more so when people are surprised that a young mom like me isn’t on welfare.

I have nothing against welfare, I truly don’t.  I used SNAP benefits for 6 months after I threw my ex-husband out.  Later on I lost a job and used SNAP benefits for a little over a month.  Welfare is there as a step up, to give you that hand that you need when you’re super down on your luck.  Without those benefits, food was too expensive to pay for and my utilities fell behind.  It’s useful, it’s there for you to use.

However, it’s not there for you to live on.

When I met Ry, him and his ex-wife had officially parted ways (after being separated for months) a couple months before.  It seems really amicable, everyone got along.  I was on “Team-Single-Mom”, I felt for her, even though her ex still was very active in her child’s life… I could understand.  As time passed, real attitudes and personalities started coming out and I distanced myself.  I didn’t want to be that woman who picked fights with an ex-wife.  It’s annoying, and I’m an ex-wife too, I could still understand… couldn’t I?

I tried really hard to keep my mouth shut but after awhile I started piping up.  During her days, her son stayed at his grandmothers house.  She had claimed she was working long hours at the bar, but after a little investigating (the whole knowing everyone thing comes in handy) we found out she spent equal time drinking.  I still tried to remind myself, freedom is delicious after a failed marriage.  I still liked going to the bar… I tried to forget the fact that I came home every night and never left before the kiddo was fast asleep and tucked in.

One day, her son told me, “I miss my mom, I haven’t seen her in more than a week.” The judgement was made.  It was final.  I was not a fan.  Yes, I went out, a lot even.  I got that, I understood that more than anyone else could… but I still spent every moment I possibly could with my daughter.  Hell, I *STILL* get upset when Nood goes to school/summer camp.  Anyone who could leave their kid “because it was easier” at their parents for days on end was not cool in my book.

I gave up on beating that horse.  It’s been two years and he still sees his grandmother more than his mom.  I finally just resigned myself to this thought… when her son grows up, he’ll find out the truth eventually.  Then the only person she’ll have to face is the shame from her own kid.  She just has to grow up.

So then the “gimme-gimmes” started.  I’ve always offered to buy clothes or his baseball shit, but we started getting calls for random stuff.  The latest was six-flags passes.  I finally had to put my foot down.  Absolutely-fucking-not.

We don’t splurge like that in my household, I am not splurging like that outside of it.  Maybe when the kids get older, but right now it’s not a necessity, and it’s not in my budget.  She then started harping on how we should pay for school registration… after we paid for the school supplies (she was supposed to pay registration).  She says $180 is too much for her.  Considering I pay $180 a week for daycare/summer camp (It was $190 for Kindergarten), I don’t have too much sympathy, I still have to pay Noodle’s school registration for next year next week.

So I snapped.  I told her that since she is on food stamps (3 plus years now), gets medical, free childcare and free utilities she will be fine.  I am more than willing to help her if she ever gets her own utilities and falls behind not to mention anything the kiddo needs.  Needs, not wants.  I have no problem splurging for wants, but money isn’t growing on a tree here.  I can’t pay for things like passes, when I have bills to pay.

I told her that if she can present me with a literal bill or invoice (for things like baseball, school, supplies, etc) I will pay them, but I will not be giving her cold-hard-cash when she hasn’t gotten a job that can support her son yet.  As long as she’s on welfare, I will be paying anything the kid needs direct.  I am not a walking wallet, and I am *not* going to support a welfare mom.

I am sick and tired of it to be blunt.  I managed to pull myself up and fix my life, so can she.  Her son depends on it.  So unfortunately I’m sure I’ll be getting a lot of calls or texts whining for money, but the difference is, I’m good at saying no.  I’m good at budgeting and I am well aware of what living within your means is.

I signed up for this to step up for the kids.  I signed up to love my family, not to give my hard earned paycheck for a night at the bar.  I hope this is a wake up call for her.  She needs to be a better mom, I know she can, she just has to step up and do it.  It’s going to be a long few months, but hopefully refusing to enable welfare-life gives her the reality-check she desperately needs.

An Open Letter To The Ex-Wives

Standard

[Explanation:  This is not a hack on all single mothers or all ex-wives.  This is for those women who divorce a man for whatever reason but then refuse to let go.  This is for the women who get mad when things start going right for the man that *they* walked out on. This is for those mothers who spend too much money on frivolous shit and then complain when they don’t have money for their half of their child’s necessities.  Take offense if you must but if you do, think about why you’re offended. ] [ This is also not a dig on mothers who want their ex-husbands to pay child support or their half of the child’s expenses.  I am also a mother, who unfortunately has an ex-husband who doesn’t pay a dime. ]

 

Hey you,

Yeah you.  I’m sure this will get around to you some how.  Someone you know will see it and link it to you, and that’s okay.  I’m cool with that.  I am also writing this so other ex-wives understand what they have signed up for.

I just wanted to explain something to you.  I am an ex-wife too, I, like you decided to end my marriage and continue on, on my own.  More power to you!  However, there are consequences to your actions, especially when your ex-husband decides to enter a long-term relationship with a girl like me.

I am a single mother.  I do it all with out any child-support or assistance from the state (not that that is wrong, unless you abuse it… ahem).  I have worked my ass off to get to where I am today, which includes a mortgage, car, as well as day to day expenses.  I am proud of the fact that I’ve managed to make it this far, and if my accomplishments bother you, too bad.

So lets get down to what is bothering you then shall we?

From what I guess, you’re kind of salty that the man you divorced is living a stable and happy life.  My mistake, but what you could do is maybe get a “real” job, you know one with benefits and hours that let you actually spend time with your kid.  You know, the kind where you don’t drink *and* pay your taxes?  It’s not his fault that you’re broke and it’s not my fault that you’re in the same place as you were when you left him.

Speaking of money.  I’ve told you numerous times that I’ll give you half of the money that is needed for something.  I offered to pay for half of the school supply package, I have no problem paying half of baseball, I have no problem buying the kid clothes.  Hell, I called you a little over a week ago and asked what clothes he needed, “Just maybe some basketball shorts, he’s fine other than that.”  Apparently you forgot that information since “Well he needs a whole new wardrobe” popped up today.  I am not a fool.  I will not be bailing you out of whatever financial hole you have gotten yourself into.  One of the consequences of getting a divorce is becoming financially independent.  It’s called budgeting.

Also, as you may now know, money does not grow on trees.  I understand that you want to send your child to some camp that magically costs $400 (which by the way, I have internet, you shouldn’t lie).  We unfortunately do not see that as reasonable, so we cannot come up with that large of a sum of money.  We do have bills to pay, remember, we’re *not* on welfare?  As a mother myself, I cannot favor one child over another, and since I cannot afford to send my daughter to camp, I cannot afford to send your kid either.  I’m a huge fan of avoiding favoritism.

Also, I need you to remember that you’re the EX.  You are no longer apart of my boyfriends life.  You left him, so there should be no bitching.  I can’t believe that he has repeatedly had to explain to you that he doesn’t want to hear about your day.  There is no need for daily phone calls unless it is from his child or about his child.  I need you to realize that beyond the fact that you’re still alive and at least attempting to provide your child with a good life, neither of us care.  I’m sorry this seems to bother you so much, but you’d think after 2 years you would’ve gotten used to this.  I’ve tried to stay out of it, but apparently you need to hear it from me as well.  I will call you if I have to, and as you already have learned, I will tell you what’s on my mind, how things work with me, and you will listen… again.

You know, we’ve already had this conversation once.  I figured you’d get it, but apparently not.  I realize that there is an adjustment period to getting over the fact that your ex-husband is happy with out you, but honey it’s been 2 years.  Time to get moving.  You can call me the wicked-step-mother or whatever you may, because frankly it doesn’t bother me.  You just need to realize that I’m not going anywhere, I’m here to stay, and I am most definitely not a fool.  The man you left has changed as well, he’s made himself stronger and refuses to be a doormat again.

So I guess what it comes down to is – Suck it up buttercup, because this is the way it is.

 

Sincerely,

A very aggravated girlfriend.

My Bitter Moment of the Day

Standard

Today I am home with the kiddo, her tummy is upset and she didn’t get a whole lot of sleep. I picked her up from school yesterday, before she even got her jacket on she started complaining of her tummy hurting.  I didn’t think too much of it, “my tummy hurts” has become the most recent excuse to avoid trying something new at dinner.

Halfway home, her banter about how her day went cut off and a meek “I have to go to the bathroom” came out of the backseat.  “Honey, we’re about 2 minutes from home, you’ll have to hold it.”  “Okay” she said and the rest of the car ride was quiet.

We pulled into my driveway, and she opened her door right away.  As soon as she had two feet on the ground she bent over and threw up.  My mouth just dropped.  “See mom, that’s why I had to go to the bathroom.”  Pretty talented if you ask me, when I have to puke, I can’t hold it for 4 blocks.

So we got inside, with me hoping she just ate too much at snack time and she made it 2 minutes before she puked again.  She puked on and off all night and didn’t sleep too well when she did manage to sleep.  I got up with my alarm this morning at 4:45, checked on her and let my boss know that I couldn’t come in today.

I’m sitting on the couch, with a half asleep child laying next to me.  PBSkids on the tv and Noodle barely paying attention unless I go to change the channel at which she bolts awake and tells me “Mom! I’m watching that!”

She’s feeling a bit better this morning, the puking has stopped for the most part and she ate some dry cereal.  She’s just out of it and wants to relax.  Which is fine with me, we’ve been relaxing on the couch together and I’ve been getting some of the laundry done.  We’re going to try something light for lunch in a little bit.  Hopefully that goes well.

This last week has been rough on me for a multitude of reasons.  I haven’t been feeling well to top everything off, which just makes for a cranky me in general.  So each day, on my way to work I think about how everything has turned out.  I’m happy I suppose, but the grass is always greener.

– Regardless of my feelings now or anything else, I am glad I divorced A’s dad.  He wasn’t good for me, and I’m not so sure about for A either.  I am glad I took that step and I will never regret the action to have a safer, happier life.-

Life is stable over here finally.  Both Ryan and I have good jobs with steady paychecks, he likes his job which makes getting him up in the morning that much easier.  Noodle has a school in which she (and I) love, she has wonderful teachers and is thriving.

It just bugs me.  Up until a few months before my divorce, I was a stay at home mom.  In my family (this does not pertain to you, it’s not meant to offend you) it was important to me to be able to stay home with my kid(s).  I could have never predicted that my marriage would turn out the way it would and I’m lucky I’ve been employed since then, but shit.  I finally have a job with normal hours (I’ve been there for 2 years next month) so that makes life a little easier, but I’d still rather be at home and taking care of my kid.  I never thought I’d end up in the work force full-time, I always assumed that until A was out of the house, I’d be a part-timer so I could focus on her and our home.

So post-divorce I’m a working mother.  It’s just aggravating and I can feel my knuckles go white on that drive into the office.  It’s hard especially when shit at the office has been annoying me.  So I’m driving in to a job that makes me want to lobotomize myself, because of which my daughter goes to school 2 hours early and stays 1 hour late (6:30ish to 4:30ish) (which I realize isn’t as bad as it was before my schedule change but still).  I drive in to a job that I automatically lose 1/3 of my pay to the extra hours at daycare (the ex was ordered to pay half of school/daycare costs and child support, but that hasn’t happened since I was divorced in ’09). I drive into a job that I normally like, where I make decent pay (despite A’s school fees) but because of it, dinner becomes a chore, daycare spends more time with my kid than I do, and weekends are so jammed up with shit from during the week that there isn’t a whole lot of time for fun.

The topic has come up with Ryan that once he gets his raise in a couple months, that I can stay home.  Trust me on this one, there has been numerous times this past week that that seemed like a great idea.  It’s hard to think it’s not.  However, the grass is always greener.  Even if Ryan makes enough for a comfortable living, we’d still lose the money that my job brings in to supplement and save.   I wouldn’t have money for the extra things for the kids and wouldn’t be able to put money in our “going-on-vacation-finally” fund or “get-the-hell-out-of-my-house-kids!” fund.  Two things that I definitely like putting money in.  Plus with this economy, I don’t think I could walk away from a job I (mostly) like that is pretty damned stable, and rely solely on one income again.  You never know what could happen, and I know I’d regret leaving my job if Ryan ever lost his.

 

The grass is always greener, I’ll just keep repeating that.  In the meantime I’m off to get the kid in the bath and find something for lunch.

Expectations are a Bitch and a Half

Standard

I am the ultimate pessimist.  I am.  I’ve been a raging-skull-punch-you-on-the-way-down pessimist as long as I can remember.  I always explain it like this: Hope for the best but always assume it won’t happen because life sucks and you should just get a helmet.  Sometimes, always expecting the negative in a situation bums me out and irritates people but you know what?  Screw off, there is a perk!!  If you expect nothing to happen, or plan for worst case scenario, when things do go your way it’s even better!

Ie:  Holding out for a new position at work.

Expectation: My ass getting canned and THEN denied unemployment.

Reality: Received promotion and desk with sparkles in it.  (You can’t beat sparkles.) (Stop laughing.)

Being a pessimist has almost become a safety blanket for me.  It’s just one more way I protect myself from getting hurt or upset when shit hits the fan… you know, because I expected it to, so I was prepared.

The only catch is is that people are not included in this mess of a safety net.  For some reason, my hopes expectations of people are just as high as I have set for myself.  This includes everyone, I’m talking from my neighbors to my boyfriend, from my kid to the little shit who lives 5 houses down.  Everyone.  Yes.  I’m talking about you.  I’m talking about family, I’m talking about doctors, I’m talking about co-workers, I’m talking about that kid who changed my oil last weekend.  I’m talking about the lady who owns the laundry mat all the way to the got-damned President of the United States.  I’m also talking about the person who is criticizing the fuck out of me for my run-on sentences.  Yes, you too asshole.  I have high-ass expectations for all of you.

“Oh but Sarah, you can’t expect that out of me?!  It’s to harrrd!”

Bite me.  You’re talking to a Single-Mom (not-even-child-support. Nada from the Dad.) who has been suffering with “Moderate to Severe” active Crohns Disease for 6 (5 diagnosed) years.  I went from working 2 restaurant/bar gigs AND odd jobs to an office job all the while trying *not* to die or live in the hospital.  Throw in some domestic abuse, a failed marriage, and sprinkle some good old anxiety and depression on top.  If I can do it, you can do it.

My life isn’t easy, and it’s not the hardest out there, but if I can live up to my expectations of what a person should be, how they should act, then so can you.

It’s not even that my expectations are phenomenal or anything, I always thought they were run-of-the-mill.  Yet, time and time again I am informed that I expect too much.

Too much?  Maybe.

I expect you to not be an asshole.  No seriously.  Just stop being an asshole to everyone.  How about instead of copping an attitude at everyone who looks your way, you can try to say something nice to them or *gasp* try and help another human being with something.

I expect you to be polite and have manners.  (Half of you just choked.)  (Good.)  I am one of the first people to laugh at or crack a horrible blow-job joke.  I am.  However, I hold the door for people coming out after me.  If someone drops something, I try and pick it up for them.  If I bump into someone, I apologize.  Christ people, it’s not that hard.  You walk past someone you smile and say “Hey” or do that stupid head nod thing that people do.  Oh and two words.  “Please” and fucking “Thank you” <- I especially expect children to say it. (I had two little girls, aged 4, in my office today while their mom was with my co-worker.  They said Please and Thank You for every single crayon I gave them, they even said it to *each other* as they fought over who got to draw with the purple-sparkle pen.  If two little girls can say it, so can grown ass people.)

Work.  If you’re over the legal age to work, I expect you to work.  I don’t care what the hell you do, I don’t.  I just expect you to do it, do it well and not be fucking lazy.  I get it, people have lazy days, most days I decided I’d rather go back to bed before I even leave my bed.  That doesn’t excuse you from doing your damned job.  I’ve also done the dead-end job thing.  I know that if you work hard sometimes it just doesn’t get you anywhere.  My examples:  Jiffy Lube, all 3 greek restaurants I worked at, Elder-care (promotion wise), most retail, the majority of sales (small ticket items), etc.  You know why you should work hard?  Just in case.  Just in case you might get a chance at a different position or a promotion.  Because you should work to *earn* your money, not mooch it.  Also you have to work with other people, so this resorts back to “not being an asshole”.  Don’t make your co-workers days hell.  Work.  It’s called “work-ethic” and you should have it, more importantly we should instill it in our children.

I expect you to be educated.  I’m not talking about college, I’m not even talking about high school.  I expect you to know what’s going on around you in the world, to care what’s happening to other people.  I expect you to have an opinion, even if it differs from mine.  I expect you to pay attention to something beyond the new trinket you just bought.  There is important stuff going on in our world right now, I don’t expect you to be aware of everything, or know every minute detail, because I sure don’t… but I expect a decent attempt.  I want people to have a brain of their own, not to be a mindless sheep.  Why?  Stupid people piss me off.  So don’t be stupid.  Borrow a book, read a newspaper.  You know, Yahoo! has news and Google isn’t just there to look up porn.  Use your brain.

 

I’m not saying you have to be perfect.  I’m not.  I’m far fucking from it.  Sometimes I smoke too much, sometimes I snap at people through out the day because I’m cranky.  Sometimes while you’re talking I imagine strangling you so you stop rambling on about your new manicure.  I have lazy days and I have “Do I really have to put on pants??” days. But I try to be a good person, I try to be nice and courteous, I try to do my job to the best of my ability and I try to be aware and active in the world around me.  That’s all I’m asking of other people, just do it.  I’m a pessimist a million and one days out of a million and two.  I am an optimist when it comes to other people.  If you fuck-heads take that away from me, imagine how miserable I am going to make the world around me. (ha)

 

At least try not to be an asshole.  That’s a start.

Humanity?

Standard

To start this off, let me just say that I don’t have high standards for most people.  Or rather, I don’t have hope for most people.  When I meet you, you start at level 0.  Only through your actions do you earn respect and raise the bar I’ve automatically set for you.  Maybe that’s not very nice, and let me think about it…. fuck you.

That’s just the way I am, always have been.  Call me a bitch, I don’t care, it’s worked out well for me.  The benefit of it is that when I put myself out there, I am barely ever wrong, and I rarely regret it.  If I consider you my friend, chances are that I’m not going anywhere and will sell my 2nd kidney for you.

So on that note, as most of you have read, I was given a promotion at work.  The position I used to have opened up and my boss scheduled a few interviews.  I thought of a couple of people and made up a good case in my head for why those people would make a good fit.  A few times I thought of this kid who works in our shop.  Let’s call him youngin’, why?  Because it’s not nice to talk about people on the web and frankly I think I just figured out his real name today, I’ve been calling him youngin’ and princess since he started.

This kid started as a temp in our shop.  When he came in for his interview, I laughed at him because he showed up in a nice button up shirt and slacks… for a job in the shop… where he’d be covered in dust, sludge and dirt.  When he was hired, I thanked my boss because he was far less creepy than the last one but I figured he wouldn’t be around long.

Well youngin’s first impression of me was me screaming at a co-worker, as I do most mornings, out in the shop.  The fact that he decided to smoke a cigarette with me a few days later blew my mind, but whatever.  I had asked him how he liked the job so far, and his response shocked me.  I knew he was young (just 21) and frankly, the bar was set low.  He stated that he liked the job just fine but was worried about the layoff after the holiday, that he really wanted to be hired on.

Not many kids, or rather teens and young adults really want to work.  Not around this county, a lot of them don’t have too, which cool, good for them.  So that he was already worried about the inevitable layoff, (we slow down after Christmas) instantly gave him respect.

I kind of brushed it off beyond a few remarks to one of my bosses about hiring him on full-time.  You know, one because the kid impressed me, and two, I like being annoying at 8 o’clock in the morning.  Then a couple of weeks ago, kid came in and asked me and my co-worker if we had a brochure so he could memorize all of our quartz colors.  I think we both stared at him for a minute before we started to look.  Maybe this proves my laziness (or the fact that I’m “the granite-girl” or just hate quartz), but I’ve been there for a year and half and couldn’t point out two colors in the scores we have.  Nor do I care too.  This kid was a temp, yet he still wanted to put in the time to memorize a shit-ton of colors.  Bam.  Respect earned.

So I brought up the kid to my other coworkers.  Why not give him the clerk job?  There are many, many benefits to hiring him, which I’m not going to list right now.  Lets just say he’s far more useful than my constant screaming and bitching in the shop.  My co-workers agreed, so we brought it to the bossman.  After an interview that me and a coworker gleefully interrupted and criticized and a couple of days to think, Youngin’ got the job.  He starts on Monday.

So, tomorrow is Saturday.  I’m typically off on the weekends but I’m going to head into the office anyway. I have some work to catch up on, and I have to finish organizing my new office.  That, and my old (awesome granite) desk is a mess.  I was telling Ry that I wanted to take some time and clean it up and set up the new computer for Youngin’, that some of the files that are now his needed organizing.  Ry asked why I cared so much and it got me thinking of all of this.

I’m just impressed.  I mean, the kid seems like a really hard worker even if he’s not the best at all the jobs in the shop.  He wants to learn, he wants to support himself and do well.  He’s making efforts that I didn’t even think of.. um.. ever.  I want the kid to do well, and I hope he does.  I mean hell, I could be completely wrong, he could suck hairy nuts in the office, and I’ll eat my words.  But you know he earned my respect (for now) and I have no problem helping him learn or sticking my neck out for him.

I guess what I’m getting at is my way of thinking, or rather judging people.  I’m sure it’s the reason I have so few real friends, but I’m okay with that.  Just knowing kid has gotten the chance at this job, and could possibly thrive at it and support his own youngin’ (hey.. maybe I’m just relating to him because of the young-parent thing… shut up I used to be a “too young for kids” parent) makes me happy.

 

Now hopefully us girls don’t completely obliterate him.