I'm in a weird mood. Actually, I have been for a few days now.
Or maybe it is not that weird.
Maybe it's just the loneliness hitting me in a different way.
I've noticed that I have had a reaction, for lack of a better word, to many women lately. Don't get me wrong, there has never been a time when I didn't notice that a woman was attractive or pleasant to interact with. But the last few days, I notice those things I always do and then I start picture what a date, or more, might look like.
Between you and I (I can trust you, can't I?), there are a few women a work with that have got my attention. One of them is, frankly, too young for me and has a boyfriend as well. One of them is still younger, but maybe not embarrassingly so, but if I had to guess, she has her own thing going on and I'm not her type. The last one, I know nothing about, she works in the kitchen and I've barely interacted with her, but she seems cool.
Of course, none of this means anything really. Except that it's new to me. From 1998 to halfway through 2017, I've pretty much been with some one. Now it's been about a year since the thing with the women I dated after she left ended. This is the longest I've been unattached in decades.
It's not even just about girls or dating. I don't have a buddy around here to hang out with. I'm lonely. I have my work interactions and that's great. I have family interactions at home, that's good too. But I think I want (maybe need) more.
Of course, i don't know how to make that happen. I don't know how to meet people. I don't know how to make the leap from work buddy to more.
But I guess I'm going to have to figure it out.
Thursday, November 29, 2018
Wednesday, November 28, 2018
A chance to catch my breath
After working 8 days straight and 70 some odd hours, I had a day off today.
Wednesday through Sunday were insanely busy. Saturday was hellish. Almost every movie in every theater was sold out. (Pretty much everything but a couple of the seatings of that god-awful Robin Hood movie.) Three servers called out, along with four runners that called out or no-showed. No time to smoke. No time to pee. No time to catch your breath. 12 hours of this shit. I was supposed to train in the bar for the second part of my shift. I was behind the bar for less than 2 hours. I had 36,500 steps or so. A new personal record. I was grumpy and scowly. It sucked.
To my credit (I think so anyway), I bounced back and was ready to rock and roll on Sunday. Smiling, hustling, making little jokes with my co-workers. Monday and Tuesday were normal slow weekdays and gave me a chance to catch my breath (and actually train on bar.)
And then today. I got paid. I did laundry. I took a nice long shower. And I shaved for the first time in two weeks. I know that doesn't sound like a big deal, but for the last several days, I've been getting up, crushing a cigarette or two while pouring some coffee into me, before jumping into the shower for five minutes, maybe less, and then rushing out the door to work. I don't really grow a beard beyond the neat trimmed goatee that I have, but the scraggly stray whiskers were making me nuts, even if no one else could see the difference. A nice long hot shower and good clean shave was almost like a spa treatment for me.
Then this evening, my son and I went to see Bohemian Rhapsody. Free movie tickets are nice perk from work, it got even nicer when their was a projection issue and the make started 25 minutes late. They gave all the guests Rain Checks to a future movie to apologize for the inconvenience, including us. So now I have 2 more free tickets (and these don't have the normal employee restrictions on them.)
The movie was great. I've seen most of it during the course of doing my job, but it is just not the same is seeing uninterrupted and in order. We enjoyed it. I bawled my eyes out during the end when they showed the Live-Aid set. It was great.
I usually cry at movies. I have for years. I think it has something to do with whatever emotions I have bottled up. It is definitely getting worse. Hell, there are trailers that I catch in the theater that choke me up. Mary Poppins Returns definitely gets me. But that may just be because I'm a big sap.
It may also be because I am still grieving things that I've lost and haven't really processed yet. But that is a discussion for another day.
For today, I had a day off and it was pretty damn good..
Wednesday through Sunday were insanely busy. Saturday was hellish. Almost every movie in every theater was sold out. (Pretty much everything but a couple of the seatings of that god-awful Robin Hood movie.) Three servers called out, along with four runners that called out or no-showed. No time to smoke. No time to pee. No time to catch your breath. 12 hours of this shit. I was supposed to train in the bar for the second part of my shift. I was behind the bar for less than 2 hours. I had 36,500 steps or so. A new personal record. I was grumpy and scowly. It sucked.
To my credit (I think so anyway), I bounced back and was ready to rock and roll on Sunday. Smiling, hustling, making little jokes with my co-workers. Monday and Tuesday were normal slow weekdays and gave me a chance to catch my breath (and actually train on bar.)
And then today. I got paid. I did laundry. I took a nice long shower. And I shaved for the first time in two weeks. I know that doesn't sound like a big deal, but for the last several days, I've been getting up, crushing a cigarette or two while pouring some coffee into me, before jumping into the shower for five minutes, maybe less, and then rushing out the door to work. I don't really grow a beard beyond the neat trimmed goatee that I have, but the scraggly stray whiskers were making me nuts, even if no one else could see the difference. A nice long hot shower and good clean shave was almost like a spa treatment for me.
Then this evening, my son and I went to see Bohemian Rhapsody. Free movie tickets are nice perk from work, it got even nicer when their was a projection issue and the make started 25 minutes late. They gave all the guests Rain Checks to a future movie to apologize for the inconvenience, including us. So now I have 2 more free tickets (and these don't have the normal employee restrictions on them.)
The movie was great. I've seen most of it during the course of doing my job, but it is just not the same is seeing uninterrupted and in order. We enjoyed it. I bawled my eyes out during the end when they showed the Live-Aid set. It was great.
I usually cry at movies. I have for years. I think it has something to do with whatever emotions I have bottled up. It is definitely getting worse. Hell, there are trailers that I catch in the theater that choke me up. Mary Poppins Returns definitely gets me. But that may just be because I'm a big sap.
It may also be because I am still grieving things that I've lost and haven't really processed yet. But that is a discussion for another day.
For today, I had a day off and it was pretty damn good..
Saturday, November 24, 2018
Fighting the impostor
Okay, I'll admit I was in a pretty bad mood last night. But, I'm feeling better today.
I got trained on the back bar today. That is a service bar. All of the drinks that guests order from the servers come from there.
It was different. But good. I feel like I picked it up pretty quickly. Of course, it was trial by fire. Multiple sold out theaters all day long. When it got crazy busy, they pulled me to run. This isn't anything personal, bartenders are always the back up to support runners when it gets backed up. It make sense too. No point in having bartenders keep making drinks, when they aren't getting out theaters.
So, an 11 hour day to start my week. I like it.
You may wonder, why is this guy always updating about his hours and how many steps he took (18,000 for the record) on this blog?
It is an easy way for to measure that I am accomplishing something. Sure, it's just running food and pouring drinks for a lot of hours. But every day that I go in and do it (and do it well) is a success. I've learned that when success seems hard to find, to start counting up the little wins. It helps.
Are you familiar with Impostor Syndrome? It's the phenomenon where an individual believes that they are not really qualified to do what it is they are doing. It's pretty common. You may be asked to train someone how to do something at work, and a nagging little voice in your head says, but I'm not even sure that I do it right.
It is also common in job hunting and interview situations. And as rejections pile up, it gets worse. So imagine looking for a job in your field for a solid year and for whatever reason, no one wants to hire you. Well, that's me.
By September, I had hard time believing that I was qualified to push a broom. Add to that the rejection factory of dating apps. Over a year of that, and I actually met in person, one woman. And she was nuts. Now that nagging little voice is screaming at me, you are unqualified and quite frankly unlikable.
I know that these things aren't true. But the feeling is hard to shake.
So I go to work. And I succeed. And people actually like me. And then I write about it here.
Because it is going take a while to undo that feeling. I need to keep reminding myself. Writing it down (or at least typing it to the Internet) is the best way I know to reinforce it.
So bear with me and my little updates. These are baby steps I need to take.
I got trained on the back bar today. That is a service bar. All of the drinks that guests order from the servers come from there.
It was different. But good. I feel like I picked it up pretty quickly. Of course, it was trial by fire. Multiple sold out theaters all day long. When it got crazy busy, they pulled me to run. This isn't anything personal, bartenders are always the back up to support runners when it gets backed up. It make sense too. No point in having bartenders keep making drinks, when they aren't getting out theaters.
So, an 11 hour day to start my week. I like it.
You may wonder, why is this guy always updating about his hours and how many steps he took (18,000 for the record) on this blog?
It is an easy way for to measure that I am accomplishing something. Sure, it's just running food and pouring drinks for a lot of hours. But every day that I go in and do it (and do it well) is a success. I've learned that when success seems hard to find, to start counting up the little wins. It helps.
Are you familiar with Impostor Syndrome? It's the phenomenon where an individual believes that they are not really qualified to do what it is they are doing. It's pretty common. You may be asked to train someone how to do something at work, and a nagging little voice in your head says, but I'm not even sure that I do it right.
It is also common in job hunting and interview situations. And as rejections pile up, it gets worse. So imagine looking for a job in your field for a solid year and for whatever reason, no one wants to hire you. Well, that's me.
By September, I had hard time believing that I was qualified to push a broom. Add to that the rejection factory of dating apps. Over a year of that, and I actually met in person, one woman. And she was nuts. Now that nagging little voice is screaming at me, you are unqualified and quite frankly unlikable.
I know that these things aren't true. But the feeling is hard to shake.
So I go to work. And I succeed. And people actually like me. And then I write about it here.
Because it is going take a while to undo that feeling. I need to keep reminding myself. Writing it down (or at least typing it to the Internet) is the best way I know to reinforce it.
So bear with me and my little updates. These are baby steps I need to take.
Thursday, November 22, 2018
Happy fucking holidays to you too
I worked today.
I guess you knew that if you read this thing.
Wednesday was crazy busy. I loved it.
Today... it was busy-ish. It made for a long day. 10 hours to be exact. 60 for the week.
I had an anxiety attack at work. Not a total panic attack, but closer than is comfortable.
I'm not sure what started it. Probably a combination of things.
Maybe a bit of Cindy Lou Who trying desperately to contact Santa, so that Santa can help her poor loving, hard working, single mom.
Maybe it was it was my co-workers being sad, angry, irritated that they had to be at work instead having a Thanksgiving they wanted to have. In contrast to me, who was much happier to be there instead of having a Thanksgiving with my folks, brother, sister, their spouses, and normal families.
Maybe it was that work was at that moment providing us for free the Turkey dinner platter special.
Maybe it was just the exhaustion.
Once it started, I found myself short of breath and on the verge of tears.
And my mind raced.
Images of Thanksgiving when thing were normal.
Images of Thanksgivings when my son was with his mom and I was alone with my family.
Remembering my mom saying this week how much the cousins said they would miss my son when he wasn't there. After she said had said it few different times, I joked that I hoped they'd miss me too. Oh, she replied, they don't know you won't be there.
The fact that they planned and scheduled this year's festivities before they even knew when I would work or what my options were.
The fact that I knew the fridge was stocked with more beer than anyone who had a two hour drive afterwards needed. And the surety that it would not be there (no doubt sent home with my brother and sister).For the record, I was right. I can have leftover turkey, but we aren't giving Jeckles any beer he doesn't buy. (Edit: I'm an idiot. The beer was in a cooler outside. Maybe I was just looking for things to be grumpy about.)
All of these things and more, in snippets and out of order and over and over again.
I finally got outside for a smoke break and was able to calm my self down. And when I checked the time, it was ironically 2 PM. Just when my family was starting their meal.
I've felt drained and deflated since then.
I wish it had been busier. Busy enough for me to be completely distracted.
No one will really understand why I really was happier to be at work today. But I am certain that the anxiety attack I had work was nothing compared to what I would have had, if I had got to spend Thanksgiving with my family.
I have a bunch of leftovers I could eat, but I don't even know if I want to. (Maybe I'm just look for things to be upset about, but if I was hosting a thing and someone was going to miss it, I'd put together a plate for them.) I might just have a beer or two and go to bed.
Holidays suck and we are just getting started. All the more reason to try to work 60 hours every week until January. I'm already done with the holiday season.
I haven't enjoyed this time of year for a long time now. I sincerely hope your Holidays are much, much better.
I guess you knew that if you read this thing.
Wednesday was crazy busy. I loved it.
Today... it was busy-ish. It made for a long day. 10 hours to be exact. 60 for the week.
I had an anxiety attack at work. Not a total panic attack, but closer than is comfortable.
I'm not sure what started it. Probably a combination of things.
Maybe a bit of Cindy Lou Who trying desperately to contact Santa, so that Santa can help her poor loving, hard working, single mom.
Maybe it was it was my co-workers being sad, angry, irritated that they had to be at work instead having a Thanksgiving they wanted to have. In contrast to me, who was much happier to be there instead of having a Thanksgiving with my folks, brother, sister, their spouses, and normal families.
Maybe it was that work was at that moment providing us for free the Turkey dinner platter special.
Maybe it was just the exhaustion.
Once it started, I found myself short of breath and on the verge of tears.
And my mind raced.
Images of Thanksgiving when thing were normal.
Images of Thanksgivings when my son was with his mom and I was alone with my family.
Remembering my mom saying this week how much the cousins said they would miss my son when he wasn't there. After she said had said it few different times, I joked that I hoped they'd miss me too. Oh, she replied, they don't know you won't be there.
The fact that they planned and scheduled this year's festivities before they even knew when I would work or what my options were.
The fact that I knew the fridge was stocked with more beer than anyone who had a two hour drive afterwards needed. And the surety that it would not be there (no doubt sent home with my brother and sister).
All of these things and more, in snippets and out of order and over and over again.
I finally got outside for a smoke break and was able to calm my self down. And when I checked the time, it was ironically 2 PM. Just when my family was starting their meal.
I've felt drained and deflated since then.
I wish it had been busier. Busy enough for me to be completely distracted.
No one will really understand why I really was happier to be at work today. But I am certain that the anxiety attack I had work was nothing compared to what I would have had, if I had got to spend Thanksgiving with my family.
I have a bunch of leftovers I could eat, but I don't even know if I want to. (Maybe I'm just look for things to be upset about, but if I was hosting a thing and someone was going to miss it, I'd put together a plate for them.) I might just have a beer or two and go to bed.
Holidays suck and we are just getting started. All the more reason to try to work 60 hours every week until January. I'm already done with the holiday season.
I haven't enjoyed this time of year for a long time now. I sincerely hope your Holidays are much, much better.
Tuesday, November 20, 2018
About this giving of thanks thing
Tonight I delivered my son to his mother, after working a short (8 hour) shift. He's set for Thanksgiving. The rest of the country is making their preparations.
My family will be gathering at my folks' place (where I currently reside). There will be two turkeys, one grilled and one baked, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, pie and more. They will arrive at noon for a 2 PM feast.
Long before anyone shows up, I will be at work. And they will be long gone before I get home. Although, I do anticipate leftovers.
I am so okay with this.
The thought of being around the whole lot of them sounds... well... awful. The unasked questions. Are you still looking for a real job? Do you have a plan? We are entirely too polite to actually ask them. But they would nibble around the edges.
I do regret that I won't get to see my nieces and nephews (a grand total of 7 of them.) They are pretty awesome. But it is what it is. A mandatory work day.
Besides, the whole thankful thing isn't really where I'm at right now. I am thankful for my son. He's grown into an awesome young man. Better than I could have ever hoped for.
But after that, it's hard for me to think of gratitude without grieving what I've lost. I am grateful that I have this job. It's done wonders for me. But I've lost my career. I'm thankfully that my folks have helped support me, but I'm ashamed that they've had to.
And I'm not thankful at all for feeling so alone.
So yeah. I'll skip it. Go to work. Make overtime. And keep entirely too busy to let those thoughts into my head for long. I figure I can stretch into a 12 hour day.
And I guess, I am thankful for that too.
My family will be gathering at my folks' place (where I currently reside). There will be two turkeys, one grilled and one baked, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, pie and more. They will arrive at noon for a 2 PM feast.
Long before anyone shows up, I will be at work. And they will be long gone before I get home. Although, I do anticipate leftovers.
I am so okay with this.
The thought of being around the whole lot of them sounds... well... awful. The unasked questions. Are you still looking for a real job? Do you have a plan? We are entirely too polite to actually ask them. But they would nibble around the edges.
I do regret that I won't get to see my nieces and nephews (a grand total of 7 of them.) They are pretty awesome. But it is what it is. A mandatory work day.
Besides, the whole thankful thing isn't really where I'm at right now. I am thankful for my son. He's grown into an awesome young man. Better than I could have ever hoped for.
But after that, it's hard for me to think of gratitude without grieving what I've lost. I am grateful that I have this job. It's done wonders for me. But I've lost my career. I'm thankfully that my folks have helped support me, but I'm ashamed that they've had to.
And I'm not thankful at all for feeling so alone.
So yeah. I'll skip it. Go to work. Make overtime. And keep entirely too busy to let those thoughts into my head for long. I figure I can stretch into a 12 hour day.
And I guess, I am thankful for that too.
Monday, November 19, 2018
Why are you still here?
I'm tired.
I am truly pushing myself at this job. I work 6 days a week, and do my best to stretch each of those shifts as long as I can. This has gotten easier since they keep scheduling me to open. I work the 7-9 hours that the openers work, and then volunteer to help through the dinner rush. Since it seems that we have someone call out for every shift, and we are now into the Holiday movie season; they are happy to have me for another 2-3 hours.
Last week (Friday to Thursday), I worked 58.5 hours. For more fun, there was a nice little snow storm on Thursday and I was one of the very few people who was scheduled who showed up. I worked 11.5 hours. But they did put me in a hotel and gave me combat pay for being willing to be there in that situation.
This week, I've worked 31 hours or so, with three more days to work. I'm off today, but Wednesday and Thursday will be busy as hell (I'll easily work 20 hours on those two days). My next day off will likely be the following Wednesday.
My fancy watch says I get over 25,000 steps every time I work. (Yesterday I got 35,000.) That translates to at least 12 miles of walking (and jogging, in some cases) each day. I've traveled 60ish miles in that building since my day off last Wednesday.
It is a full workout. I sweat, I huff and puff. My feet, my quads and my back always hurt. I don't eat at work. I don't want to spend money on our premium priced food, and honestly, I'm always so hot when I'm working that the thought of eating is simply unappealing. (I do, however, sometimes spend money on our premium priced beer at that bar after work.) I come home and carbo-load on what ever leftovers are around and crash until I have to get up and do it again. I've lost over 20 pounds since I started.
It is a lot. Obviously, I'm trying to make some money, but there is more to it than that. I feel like I'm driven to work as much as possible. Like I'm trying to prove something. I don't know what I'm trying to prove or why I feel like I have to. That maybe isn't entirely healthy either.
It might be that I can't shake this feeling that my life is not whole. Things are missing. My therapist kept telling me that I needed to work on self-care. Ignoring the fact that self-care sounds like a euphemism for something that I've been taking care off since I was like 14, I have trouble with the concept.
My entire adult life, I haven't really done things for me. My motivation has always been others. I can be very motivated to work to maybe someone else happy, or fulfilled, or something. But I don't even know what I want, other than a few guilty pleasures. Go for a drive somewhere and see something beautiful, has been suggested. But why? Without out someone to turn to and say 'wow, isn't that beautiful?' it's just me taking a drive by myself. Take a walk, do something creative, take a class, workout, meditate. I'm just not feeling it.
Work my ass off? That I can do. That I understand. And at work I get social interaction. With my co-workers, with the guests. It's good. Outside of work, I'm just a stranger in a strange town. As I work my 9th, 10th or 11th hours, people ask me, 'why are you still here?' I give them any number of snarky answers, but the truth is I have no where else to be. I'm lonely. And oddly, I'm more lonely than when I had practically no social interaction. It is a combination of having a taste of interaction, snippets of conversations throughout the day and seeing people having fun together.
I think most of the people I work with went to high school together. It is a small town on top of that. Everyone seems to know each other. I know no one. On the one hand it is awesome that I am keeping busy and having a chance to interact with people, on the other it leaves me feeling isolated. Some days it isn't a thing at all. But the last week or so, I've been feeling it a lot. Could I be friends outside of work with some of these guys? Maybe, but mostly they are so young that I don't know that it works. I fear that when they look at me, they see someone their parents age, not a potential friend. Maybe that's how it should be.
I've never understood why no one ever says to me, 'hey I know someone you should meet.' Whether that would be a potential buddy or a potential date. I feel like people do this, they introduce people that think have something in common. This is networking, right?
No one has ever done that for me. My brother, my parents have been down here for 4 plus years. They know lots of people. Why don't they feel the desire to do that for me. I've made it clear that I'm lonely and would love to meet people, but it doesn't happen. Is that because they think I don't want that? That I wouldn't like anyone that they know? That they think that no one that they know would like me?
It's frustrating. I could stand a local buddy. Or date. Or anything like a social life. And sooner or later, I'll figure it out. But it frustrates that no one wants to help a brother out.
So maybe that it is it. Maybe I'm taking the lack of social life, the lack of things that I want to do for me and pouring it all into this job. If I can't have those things, I can do more, do better and do longer at work.
I'm not convinced that this is bad thing.
I am truly pushing myself at this job. I work 6 days a week, and do my best to stretch each of those shifts as long as I can. This has gotten easier since they keep scheduling me to open. I work the 7-9 hours that the openers work, and then volunteer to help through the dinner rush. Since it seems that we have someone call out for every shift, and we are now into the Holiday movie season; they are happy to have me for another 2-3 hours.
Last week (Friday to Thursday), I worked 58.5 hours. For more fun, there was a nice little snow storm on Thursday and I was one of the very few people who was scheduled who showed up. I worked 11.5 hours. But they did put me in a hotel and gave me combat pay for being willing to be there in that situation.
This week, I've worked 31 hours or so, with three more days to work. I'm off today, but Wednesday and Thursday will be busy as hell (I'll easily work 20 hours on those two days). My next day off will likely be the following Wednesday.
My fancy watch says I get over 25,000 steps every time I work. (Yesterday I got 35,000.) That translates to at least 12 miles of walking (and jogging, in some cases) each day. I've traveled 60ish miles in that building since my day off last Wednesday.
It is a full workout. I sweat, I huff and puff. My feet, my quads and my back always hurt. I don't eat at work. I don't want to spend money on our premium priced food, and honestly, I'm always so hot when I'm working that the thought of eating is simply unappealing. (I do, however, sometimes spend money on our premium priced beer at that bar after work.) I come home and carbo-load on what ever leftovers are around and crash until I have to get up and do it again. I've lost over 20 pounds since I started.
It is a lot. Obviously, I'm trying to make some money, but there is more to it than that. I feel like I'm driven to work as much as possible. Like I'm trying to prove something. I don't know what I'm trying to prove or why I feel like I have to. That maybe isn't entirely healthy either.
It might be that I can't shake this feeling that my life is not whole. Things are missing. My therapist kept telling me that I needed to work on self-care. Ignoring the fact that self-care sounds like a euphemism for something that I've been taking care off since I was like 14, I have trouble with the concept.
My entire adult life, I haven't really done things for me. My motivation has always been others. I can be very motivated to work to maybe someone else happy, or fulfilled, or something. But I don't even know what I want, other than a few guilty pleasures. Go for a drive somewhere and see something beautiful, has been suggested. But why? Without out someone to turn to and say 'wow, isn't that beautiful?' it's just me taking a drive by myself. Take a walk, do something creative, take a class, workout, meditate. I'm just not feeling it.
Work my ass off? That I can do. That I understand. And at work I get social interaction. With my co-workers, with the guests. It's good. Outside of work, I'm just a stranger in a strange town. As I work my 9th, 10th or 11th hours, people ask me, 'why are you still here?' I give them any number of snarky answers, but the truth is I have no where else to be. I'm lonely. And oddly, I'm more lonely than when I had practically no social interaction. It is a combination of having a taste of interaction, snippets of conversations throughout the day and seeing people having fun together.
I think most of the people I work with went to high school together. It is a small town on top of that. Everyone seems to know each other. I know no one. On the one hand it is awesome that I am keeping busy and having a chance to interact with people, on the other it leaves me feeling isolated. Some days it isn't a thing at all. But the last week or so, I've been feeling it a lot. Could I be friends outside of work with some of these guys? Maybe, but mostly they are so young that I don't know that it works. I fear that when they look at me, they see someone their parents age, not a potential friend. Maybe that's how it should be.
I've never understood why no one ever says to me, 'hey I know someone you should meet.' Whether that would be a potential buddy or a potential date. I feel like people do this, they introduce people that think have something in common. This is networking, right?
No one has ever done that for me. My brother, my parents have been down here for 4 plus years. They know lots of people. Why don't they feel the desire to do that for me. I've made it clear that I'm lonely and would love to meet people, but it doesn't happen. Is that because they think I don't want that? That I wouldn't like anyone that they know? That they think that no one that they know would like me?
It's frustrating. I could stand a local buddy. Or date. Or anything like a social life. And sooner or later, I'll figure it out. But it frustrates that no one wants to help a brother out.
So maybe that it is it. Maybe I'm taking the lack of social life, the lack of things that I want to do for me and pouring it all into this job. If I can't have those things, I can do more, do better and do longer at work.
I'm not convinced that this is bad thing.
Tuesday, November 13, 2018
True Believers
Stan Lee died yesterday. He was 95, so I guess it isn't really a shock. But it hit me much harder than I expected. Someone passed that fact along to me at work yesterday. My first reaction was, okay that make sense. A little while later, I realized I was on the verge of tears.
Other people will write better obituaries, memories and tributes, so I won't try to do that. But I will tell you what he meant to me.
Stan Lee rose through the ranks of what was then Atlas Comics. In the early 60's they re-branded as Marvel Comics. In, what I believe is an unprecedented burst of creativity, Lee (along with Jack Kirby and others) created some of the most iconic super heroes in popular fiction. If you watch movies at all, you are familiar with them. The Fantastic Four, Thor, Iron Man, the X-Men, Black Panther, Doctor Strange, Daredevil and more were created during this time frame. He modernized the WWII era hero Captain America as the man out of time that we all now know. But most importantly, to me anyway, he created Spider-Man.
Spider-man embodies the theme that ran through almost all Marvel heroes. He had incredible (one might say Amazing) powers, but at the same time struggled with school, money, friends and girls. Unlike Golden Age heroes like Superman, he wasn't a god. He was a kid. And he had the same kinds of problems that the rest of us kids had. He was amazing, but he was human. We could relate to him.
So yeah, I'm a comic book nerd and Stan Lee created some of my favorite characters. But the reason, I think, that his death hit me so hard is remembering the Saturday mornings of my childhood.
I feel bad for my son's generation. They will never understand the magic of Saturday morning cartoons. They had cartoons whenever they wanted. But for me (us), there were Saturday mornings, the one time that had shows just for us.
NBC aired various versions of a Spider-man cartoon when I was young. I remember Spider-man and his Amazing Friends followed by The Incredible Hulk. And each week I was greeted by Stan Lee, who said, Welcome True Believers and then gave some perspective to the episodes we were about to watch.
Welcome True Believers.
That was permission to engage in the fantasy. It was acknowledgement that loving these characters was a righteous pursuit. It was being part of a club, full of people I didn't know, but we were all True Believers.
That's what hit me. I've loved these super heroes for most of my life, but I learned to love them on Saturday mornings and Stan Lee greeted me each week. And welcomed me to believe. I still do. But he is gone. And with him, some part of my childhood died as well.
Excelsior Stan. And thank you.
Other people will write better obituaries, memories and tributes, so I won't try to do that. But I will tell you what he meant to me.
Stan Lee rose through the ranks of what was then Atlas Comics. In the early 60's they re-branded as Marvel Comics. In, what I believe is an unprecedented burst of creativity, Lee (along with Jack Kirby and others) created some of the most iconic super heroes in popular fiction. If you watch movies at all, you are familiar with them. The Fantastic Four, Thor, Iron Man, the X-Men, Black Panther, Doctor Strange, Daredevil and more were created during this time frame. He modernized the WWII era hero Captain America as the man out of time that we all now know. But most importantly, to me anyway, he created Spider-Man.
Spider-man embodies the theme that ran through almost all Marvel heroes. He had incredible (one might say Amazing) powers, but at the same time struggled with school, money, friends and girls. Unlike Golden Age heroes like Superman, he wasn't a god. He was a kid. And he had the same kinds of problems that the rest of us kids had. He was amazing, but he was human. We could relate to him.
So yeah, I'm a comic book nerd and Stan Lee created some of my favorite characters. But the reason, I think, that his death hit me so hard is remembering the Saturday mornings of my childhood.
I feel bad for my son's generation. They will never understand the magic of Saturday morning cartoons. They had cartoons whenever they wanted. But for me (us), there were Saturday mornings, the one time that had shows just for us.
NBC aired various versions of a Spider-man cartoon when I was young. I remember Spider-man and his Amazing Friends followed by The Incredible Hulk. And each week I was greeted by Stan Lee, who said, Welcome True Believers and then gave some perspective to the episodes we were about to watch.
Welcome True Believers.
That was permission to engage in the fantasy. It was acknowledgement that loving these characters was a righteous pursuit. It was being part of a club, full of people I didn't know, but we were all True Believers.
That's what hit me. I've loved these super heroes for most of my life, but I learned to love them on Saturday mornings and Stan Lee greeted me each week. And welcomed me to believe. I still do. But he is gone. And with him, some part of my childhood died as well.
Excelsior Stan. And thank you.
Friday, November 09, 2018
Curve balls (part two)
After the initial shock of my wife leaving me started to wear off, I became very concerned with the fact the I was alone. It was clear that we were done, but I did not want to be alone. A few months after she was gone, I dated someone else. I ignored every red flag and proceeded, because the important thing was that I not be alone.
Well, all the red flags were real, she was not right for me. (She wanted me to commit to marrying her after we'd known each other for less than three months.) I'd lost the job by this point could not deal with this nonsense. So I called it off.
Since then there has been almost nothing. I swipe on Tinder or Bumble occasionally. Maybe send a message on OKCupid. But I am alone.
Recently, it has dawned on me that I'm kind of okay with that. I'm shocked. I never thought I'd be okay with that. More shocking to me is the realization that I do not want a serious relationship right now. I don't want to add that complexity to my life until I'm a little (or a lot) more settled. I don't want to change things up in that way until my son graduates high school in the spring.
This is not to say I wouldn't mind spending some time with someone. I'd certainly like to have sex again. But for the first time in decades, I don't feel like I need to someone to (forgive the cliche) complete me.
On the other side of the coin, it has also become clear to me that I am not really capable of being in a relationship. I'm too fragile, too broken and too adrift.
I am so easily triggered.
The other night at work, it was fairly busy and I pulled a food ticket with three items on it. Theoretically, you balance one on your arm, the next in that hand and the third with your other hand. I'm not super confident in my ability to do that. There were a few other runners around, so I asked if someone could give me a hand with the order. One of them, a sweet little 19 year old, jokingly replied that she would help since I was so needy. I grumbled, no thanks, managed to balance the plates and delivered the order. As I walked away I could see that she was shocked at my reaction.
My ex made it clear that I am needy. The woman I was with before her felt the same.
A sweet little girl made a joke that included the word needy and I immediately responded by overreacting and proving her wrong.
I am so easily triggered.
Can you imagine how often that might happen if I was even casually dating someone?
The fact is, I am not ready. I don't like that, but it does seem to be the way of things.
It's been nearly 15 months since she left. I hate that I am still so fucked up by this. Most of the time, it doesn't matter much. But late at night, I feel it. When I see couples that appear to be so happy together, I feel it.
Occasionally, I interact with a women who I feel some small spark with... and you guessed it... I feel it.
Usually when I start writing, I have an idea what my point is. I will confess that I have no idea what my point is here.
I guess the curve ball is that, surprise, I am okay without a relationship.
Yet, I am still missing something. Online dating is not the answer. Hell, I've had less than 5 matches on Tinder in all this time. Woman, rightfully so, are so shell-shocked by the stupid and crude things that guys send that they create dozens of disqualifiers or they just give up. I will not meet someone online. It just doesn't work for me.
No one I know seems to be interested in introducing me to anyone, so that's out.
That leaves meeting someone organically. And since I am in a new town, with no social interaction outside of work, that seems unlikely.
Sorry, I'm still struggling to come to the point.
I guess it is this. I've grown enough to realize that I don't need to be in a relationship to be whole. Yet, I wish that I could have find a way to have level of interaction, attention, affection or something like that. I wish I could find a middle ground between being a relationship and being completely isolated.
Well, all the red flags were real, she was not right for me. (She wanted me to commit to marrying her after we'd known each other for less than three months.) I'd lost the job by this point could not deal with this nonsense. So I called it off.
Since then there has been almost nothing. I swipe on Tinder or Bumble occasionally. Maybe send a message on OKCupid. But I am alone.
Recently, it has dawned on me that I'm kind of okay with that. I'm shocked. I never thought I'd be okay with that. More shocking to me is the realization that I do not want a serious relationship right now. I don't want to add that complexity to my life until I'm a little (or a lot) more settled. I don't want to change things up in that way until my son graduates high school in the spring.
This is not to say I wouldn't mind spending some time with someone. I'd certainly like to have sex again. But for the first time in decades, I don't feel like I need to someone to (forgive the cliche) complete me.
On the other side of the coin, it has also become clear to me that I am not really capable of being in a relationship. I'm too fragile, too broken and too adrift.
I am so easily triggered.
The other night at work, it was fairly busy and I pulled a food ticket with three items on it. Theoretically, you balance one on your arm, the next in that hand and the third with your other hand. I'm not super confident in my ability to do that. There were a few other runners around, so I asked if someone could give me a hand with the order. One of them, a sweet little 19 year old, jokingly replied that she would help since I was so needy. I grumbled, no thanks, managed to balance the plates and delivered the order. As I walked away I could see that she was shocked at my reaction.
My ex made it clear that I am needy. The woman I was with before her felt the same.
A sweet little girl made a joke that included the word needy and I immediately responded by overreacting and proving her wrong.
I am so easily triggered.
Can you imagine how often that might happen if I was even casually dating someone?
The fact is, I am not ready. I don't like that, but it does seem to be the way of things.
It's been nearly 15 months since she left. I hate that I am still so fucked up by this. Most of the time, it doesn't matter much. But late at night, I feel it. When I see couples that appear to be so happy together, I feel it.
Occasionally, I interact with a women who I feel some small spark with... and you guessed it... I feel it.
Usually when I start writing, I have an idea what my point is. I will confess that I have no idea what my point is here.
I guess the curve ball is that, surprise, I am okay without a relationship.
Yet, I am still missing something. Online dating is not the answer. Hell, I've had less than 5 matches on Tinder in all this time. Woman, rightfully so, are so shell-shocked by the stupid and crude things that guys send that they create dozens of disqualifiers or they just give up. I will not meet someone online. It just doesn't work for me.
No one I know seems to be interested in introducing me to anyone, so that's out.
That leaves meeting someone organically. And since I am in a new town, with no social interaction outside of work, that seems unlikely.
Sorry, I'm still struggling to come to the point.
I guess it is this. I've grown enough to realize that I don't need to be in a relationship to be whole. Yet, I wish that I could have find a way to have level of interaction, attention, affection or something like that. I wish I could find a middle ground between being a relationship and being completely isolated.
Curve balls (part one)
Today is the end of the pay period. I worked 53 hour this week, 98 for the period. I guess that is a little nuts, but it makes me feel good.
I am trying to settle in to this new normal and I think I've been relatively successful at that. But sometimes life throws a curve and it makes it clear to me, that I'm still adjusting, still learning and still healing.
I've been working hard to be at peace with the fact that I may never do the kind of work I was doing previously. Making peace with that has been relieved a lot stress.
And then today I checked my phone and saw I missed a call and had a message. This is usually scammers or debt collectors. Today it was a recruiter. I had talked to him before, back in July. He never came up with any opportunities for me. (Although he was confident that he could place me any number of places. Recruiters are always confident that they can place you.) He has an opportunity for me now. With a company that I applied for a position with in August. I had two phone interviews, but they went in a different direction.
I will admit to you (but maybe not to anyone else) that I seriously considered not responding. This company already rejected me once, why would they like me now? And they have my info, if they really might like me for this position, why is a recruiter reaching out to me, instead of the hiring manager? I guess you can tell that I'm not optimistic about this. Why should I be? I've been down this road dozens of times in the last twelve months. But I will have a call with Robert the Recruiter tomorrow (later today) before I go to work.
I will it give my best, even while being direct with Robert the Recruiter about these questions I have. But I do not expect anything to come of it.
Here's the thing, if this would work out (it won't), I would feel awful giving notice at my current job. They appreciate me. I make a difference. The pay is kind of shit, but they will value me as long as I work there. This new opportunity throws me back into the cut throat world that will get rid of you cause of... you know... it's just business. But the pay is actually more than I made before.
I mean they appreciate the hell out of me. The manager on duty tonight (or last night at this point) checked with me to make sure it wouldn't cause me heartburn if let me go a little early since we were slow and I'm pulling overtime. I know how business works, I expected them to cut me at 8:00. (I was there till 11:00.) For them to show that courtesy to someone who hasn't been there a month yet, is awesome.
And all the uncertainty that new job opportunity brings with it is, well, overwhelming. I am just trying to get my feet underneath me. I guess no one really understands that. I should be jumping for joy that this came to me out of the blue. But instead, I'm filled with dread.
I'll keep you updated, but seriously... I'm not expecting anything to come of this. (And if you are thinking that i should keep an open mind and be optimistic... then you don't understand how hard this roller-coaster of optimism, waiting and then rejection has been for me.)
I am trying to settle in to this new normal and I think I've been relatively successful at that. But sometimes life throws a curve and it makes it clear to me, that I'm still adjusting, still learning and still healing.
I've been working hard to be at peace with the fact that I may never do the kind of work I was doing previously. Making peace with that has been relieved a lot stress.
And then today I checked my phone and saw I missed a call and had a message. This is usually scammers or debt collectors. Today it was a recruiter. I had talked to him before, back in July. He never came up with any opportunities for me. (Although he was confident that he could place me any number of places. Recruiters are always confident that they can place you.) He has an opportunity for me now. With a company that I applied for a position with in August. I had two phone interviews, but they went in a different direction.
I will admit to you (but maybe not to anyone else) that I seriously considered not responding. This company already rejected me once, why would they like me now? And they have my info, if they really might like me for this position, why is a recruiter reaching out to me, instead of the hiring manager? I guess you can tell that I'm not optimistic about this. Why should I be? I've been down this road dozens of times in the last twelve months. But I will have a call with Robert the Recruiter tomorrow (later today) before I go to work.
I will it give my best, even while being direct with Robert the Recruiter about these questions I have. But I do not expect anything to come of it.
Here's the thing, if this would work out (it won't), I would feel awful giving notice at my current job. They appreciate me. I make a difference. The pay is kind of shit, but they will value me as long as I work there. This new opportunity throws me back into the cut throat world that will get rid of you cause of... you know... it's just business. But the pay is actually more than I made before.
I mean they appreciate the hell out of me. The manager on duty tonight (or last night at this point) checked with me to make sure it wouldn't cause me heartburn if let me go a little early since we were slow and I'm pulling overtime. I know how business works, I expected them to cut me at 8:00. (I was there till 11:00.) For them to show that courtesy to someone who hasn't been there a month yet, is awesome.
And all the uncertainty that new job opportunity brings with it is, well, overwhelming. I am just trying to get my feet underneath me. I guess no one really understands that. I should be jumping for joy that this came to me out of the blue. But instead, I'm filled with dread.
I'll keep you updated, but seriously... I'm not expecting anything to come of this. (And if you are thinking that i should keep an open mind and be optimistic... then you don't understand how hard this roller-coaster of optimism, waiting and then rejection has been for me.)
Wednesday, November 07, 2018
An older guy, out of breath
It is Wednesday and I have the day off. Just like I did last Wednesday. Since then, I've worked 6 days (50 some hours). I've walked 70 plus miles in that building. And I've had a cold. Somehow I managed not to sneeze or cough on anyone's food.
All and all it was a good week. I know, I know... Your week starts on Sunday and ends on Saturday (or perhaps, you are a Monday to Sunday type), but since it seems that Wednesday is the day they want to give me off, my weeks are starting to looking look like a Thursday to Tuesday jaunt with a breather on Wednesday.
It feels like I've been doing this for longer than 3.5 weeks. Some of that is because my coworkers, as a rule, work far less hours than I do. A kid working 15 hours a week that has been there for 3 months only has a few more hours of experience than I do at this point. Not to mention, they have far less consistency. None of that is meant to be a criticism of them, but rather an explanation of why I feel like a veteran at this so quickly.
Add to it that I am old, so I know how to work and I pick up on what is important. And I don't get distracted by all the drama. (Like, omfg, so much drama. And drama about the drama. It's kind of adorable, but I wonder how we actually survive young adulthood.)
Fun fact: it appears that I may have an opportunity for for some elevation in status (and more pay) soon. Go figure. Maybe I couldn't quite crack the business management thing, but this I can do. I know on one level that this is no great shakes, but it is truly nice to be in a situation where me being me is appreciated. It feels like it has been a long time since that has happened. I was told, 'all the managers love you and all the runners that matter love you too!' It may not be much in the scheme of things, but it may be exactly what I need right now.
I am, however, still waiting for my body to catch up to this level of activity. I am definitely losing weight. I am a notch tighter on my belt. But it is still taxing. The cold has made it even harder. Congested, tired and mouth breathing don't go well with this. At least, the cold seem to have been getting better since Monday. Saturday, I felt bad, by Sunday, I felt like death.
One of my coworkers, apparently, was telling her mother about me in the course of talking about work. Subsequently, her mother came to see Bohemian Rhapsody on Saturday. She sat in the very back of the sold out theater.
Monday, I was working with said coworker. And she relays the following:
"Oh... I was talking to Mom. She said that she noticed that you brought her food Saturday when she was here."
"Oh yeah?" I reply.
In the back of mind, I'm guessing that her mom must be about my age. And she has never mentioned her dad. And maybe her mom is single. And maybe this is flattering. Okay, maybe that's silly. Maybe she noticed how efficient or how polite I was. The coworker continues:
"Yeah, she said, I'm pretty sure that the older guy you were telling me about delivered my food."
"Older guy..." I say, as whatever thoughts I was having evaporated.
"Yeah... well she doesn't know your name. She also mentioned that you seemed to be very out of breath."
"Awesome." Well fuck me.
So, um, yeah. Like I said, my body still has a ways to go to catch up.
So this is me. Working all the time, huffing and puffing as I go. Yet I am succeeding at it. I am productive. And I am too busy or too tired, at just about any given moment, to end up stuck inside my own head for very long. I'll call that a win.
All and all it was a good week. I know, I know... Your week starts on Sunday and ends on Saturday (or perhaps, you are a Monday to Sunday type), but since it seems that Wednesday is the day they want to give me off, my weeks are starting to looking look like a Thursday to Tuesday jaunt with a breather on Wednesday.
It feels like I've been doing this for longer than 3.5 weeks. Some of that is because my coworkers, as a rule, work far less hours than I do. A kid working 15 hours a week that has been there for 3 months only has a few more hours of experience than I do at this point. Not to mention, they have far less consistency. None of that is meant to be a criticism of them, but rather an explanation of why I feel like a veteran at this so quickly.
Add to it that I am old, so I know how to work and I pick up on what is important. And I don't get distracted by all the drama. (Like, omfg, so much drama. And drama about the drama. It's kind of adorable, but I wonder how we actually survive young adulthood.)
Fun fact: it appears that I may have an opportunity for for some elevation in status (and more pay) soon. Go figure. Maybe I couldn't quite crack the business management thing, but this I can do. I know on one level that this is no great shakes, but it is truly nice to be in a situation where me being me is appreciated. It feels like it has been a long time since that has happened. I was told, 'all the managers love you and all the runners that matter love you too!' It may not be much in the scheme of things, but it may be exactly what I need right now.
I am, however, still waiting for my body to catch up to this level of activity. I am definitely losing weight. I am a notch tighter on my belt. But it is still taxing. The cold has made it even harder. Congested, tired and mouth breathing don't go well with this. At least, the cold seem to have been getting better since Monday. Saturday, I felt bad, by Sunday, I felt like death.
One of my coworkers, apparently, was telling her mother about me in the course of talking about work. Subsequently, her mother came to see Bohemian Rhapsody on Saturday. She sat in the very back of the sold out theater.
Monday, I was working with said coworker. And she relays the following:
"Oh... I was talking to Mom. She said that she noticed that you brought her food Saturday when she was here."
"Oh yeah?" I reply.
In the back of mind, I'm guessing that her mom must be about my age. And she has never mentioned her dad. And maybe her mom is single. And maybe this is flattering. Okay, maybe that's silly. Maybe she noticed how efficient or how polite I was. The coworker continues:
"Yeah, she said, I'm pretty sure that the older guy you were telling me about delivered my food."
"Older guy..." I say, as whatever thoughts I was having evaporated.
"Yeah... well she doesn't know your name. She also mentioned that you seemed to be very out of breath."
"Awesome." Well fuck me.
So, um, yeah. Like I said, my body still has a ways to go to catch up.
So this is me. Working all the time, huffing and puffing as I go. Yet I am succeeding at it. I am productive. And I am too busy or too tired, at just about any given moment, to end up stuck inside my own head for very long. I'll call that a win.
Saturday, November 03, 2018
A real job
Earlier today (or I suppose yesterday at this point), a friend texted me to check up on me. I filled him in on the new job. His immediate response was to tell me to hang in there, I'll find something eventually.
With many of my friends and family (but to the credit of some... not all), there is a theme of keep looking for a real job.
Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you that this is a real job. It's hard work and physically demanding. I don't know about you, but when I go to the movies I consider it a treat for myself. I assume our customers feel the same way. They pay a premium for the tickets, the food and the beer. And if my co-workers and I don't get the job done, their special experience is less special.
I suppose this notion that it is not a real job is based on the fact that it doesn't pay very much. I'm sure the franchise owner is doing fine. There is no doubt that the movie studios are making plenty of money. But the last line of defense that makes sure that going to movies is still a magical experience makes slightly more than minimum wage.
Some would argue that these jobs are for kids, they don't need but so much money. Many of these kids are in college of some sort and this how they pay for it. More than a couple have earned degrees, but this is what is available until they can break into their respective fields.
There was a time, in my lifetime, that a person could earn a living wage doing this kind of work. It is a damn shame that this is how it works now.
But hey, the world is what it is. Put my leftist notions aside for the time being.
The question remains, am I going to look for a real job?
Between you and me, not for a bit. I looked. For a fucking year. I am confident that I can land an interview with a little effort. Then I can go on that interview. I will either feel I am making a connection or not. But even when I make a connection, they decide to move in a different direction. There are so many qualified people looking for jobs that hiring managers are simply overwhelmed by the choices. And there are enough things about my work experience that are not traditional, that it is easy to rule me out. Besides, to the hiring manager, the fact that no one else wanted to hire me for over a year is a red flag.
Interviewing is nerve wracking. I'm guessing that it causes anxiety in everyone. For those of us that have issues with anxiety it is a special kind of hell.
I suppose that I will look for a real job again at some point. But for now, I need a break. I simply can't ride that roller coaster any more right now.
I've been asked many times, often in interviews, what matters to me in a job? The answer is, always, I want to make a difference. I want to contribute. I want to be useful. (I dress the answer up to suit the interviewer, but you get the idea.) Right now, I make a difference, I contribute and I am useful.
I just finished an 11 hour shift. I could have left earlier, but they needed as many hands as they could get. (Insider tip, the Bohemian Rhapsody movie is very popular, and the bits I saw looked good.) I made a difference. I helped make someone's (or several someone's) movie experience awesome. I made life easier for my coworkers. And of course, I got extra hours. Which is money in my pocket.
It may not pay well, but I can accomplish something doing this job. And in a lot of ways that is so much better that spinning wheels talking to people who will ultimately choose to hire someone with more traditional experience.
Don't get me wrong, I don't intend to be a food runner for the rest of my life. But I'm not convinced that I will get back to where I was (or even close) in my previous industry. I suspect that I need to re-invent myself yet again. And while I figure that out. I can't think of a better job to be doing.
With many of my friends and family (but to the credit of some... not all), there is a theme of keep looking for a real job.
Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you that this is a real job. It's hard work and physically demanding. I don't know about you, but when I go to the movies I consider it a treat for myself. I assume our customers feel the same way. They pay a premium for the tickets, the food and the beer. And if my co-workers and I don't get the job done, their special experience is less special.
I suppose this notion that it is not a real job is based on the fact that it doesn't pay very much. I'm sure the franchise owner is doing fine. There is no doubt that the movie studios are making plenty of money. But the last line of defense that makes sure that going to movies is still a magical experience makes slightly more than minimum wage.
Some would argue that these jobs are for kids, they don't need but so much money. Many of these kids are in college of some sort and this how they pay for it. More than a couple have earned degrees, but this is what is available until they can break into their respective fields.
There was a time, in my lifetime, that a person could earn a living wage doing this kind of work. It is a damn shame that this is how it works now.
But hey, the world is what it is. Put my leftist notions aside for the time being.
The question remains, am I going to look for a real job?
Between you and me, not for a bit. I looked. For a fucking year. I am confident that I can land an interview with a little effort. Then I can go on that interview. I will either feel I am making a connection or not. But even when I make a connection, they decide to move in a different direction. There are so many qualified people looking for jobs that hiring managers are simply overwhelmed by the choices. And there are enough things about my work experience that are not traditional, that it is easy to rule me out. Besides, to the hiring manager, the fact that no one else wanted to hire me for over a year is a red flag.
Interviewing is nerve wracking. I'm guessing that it causes anxiety in everyone. For those of us that have issues with anxiety it is a special kind of hell.
I suppose that I will look for a real job again at some point. But for now, I need a break. I simply can't ride that roller coaster any more right now.
I've been asked many times, often in interviews, what matters to me in a job? The answer is, always, I want to make a difference. I want to contribute. I want to be useful. (I dress the answer up to suit the interviewer, but you get the idea.) Right now, I make a difference, I contribute and I am useful.
I just finished an 11 hour shift. I could have left earlier, but they needed as many hands as they could get. (Insider tip, the Bohemian Rhapsody movie is very popular, and the bits I saw looked good.) I made a difference. I helped make someone's (or several someone's) movie experience awesome. I made life easier for my coworkers. And of course, I got extra hours. Which is money in my pocket.
It may not pay well, but I can accomplish something doing this job. And in a lot of ways that is so much better that spinning wheels talking to people who will ultimately choose to hire someone with more traditional experience.
Don't get me wrong, I don't intend to be a food runner for the rest of my life. But I'm not convinced that I will get back to where I was (or even close) in my previous industry. I suspect that I need to re-invent myself yet again. And while I figure that out. I can't think of a better job to be doing.
Thursday, November 01, 2018
This needs to be said
I suffer from mental illness.
You cannot know how much I hated typing that.
Yes, I know that mental illness does not have the kind of stigma that it used to. But, the fact is, I was raised during a time where we might be understanding that someone has a mental illness, but we did not suffer from that sort of thing.
The funny thing is, no one thinks I don't suffer from the things I suffer from. We just don't call it that.
I'm pretty upfront about having depression. For the few who still don't get what that means, it is not sadness. It's not being blue or in the dumps. The best I can describe it is as a kind of grayness. Everything is less bright. Things have less meaning than they should. It becomes easy to intellectually wonder, why bother at all.
Luckily, my depression is pretty mild. It is a thing that sometimes happens. I can work through it, knowing that it is what it is and I go through the motions even if they feel pointless. After a few days, or upon rare occasion weeks, I feel more like myself and move on.
I was first diagnosed with depression when I was 16. Over the next few years I spent some bullshit time with psychiatrists (spelled with an M.D.) This went on until I was 22 or so when I met with a new shrink, who after talking with me for 15 minutes declared the reason I had not had good results was because I was misdiagnosed. I wasn't depressive, I was bi-polar. I explained that I didn't really get the up (manic) swings that should come with that. She was not bothered by this, she explained sometimes those represent differently.
And she had a solution. A new medicine was out that would fix this. Prozac. She wrote a prescription and said we would follow up in a month.
3 weeks later, I tried to kill myself. (The attempt was sincere, the execution was clumsy in a very Jeckles way.) Luckily, I was able to avoid hospitalization, so no one but a very few friends ever knew it happened. I never went back. I stopped taking the meds. The shrink never followed up to see if I was okay. And I've never had the urge to commit suicide since.
So like I said, I manage it. And that works for me.
Here's the thing, in the last six months, I've realized that depression is not the extent of my illness.
I suffer from extreme anxiety. I always have. (For what is worth, my therapist helped me identify this.)
The anxiety was always there, yet I did not have the vocabulary to describe it. I had honestly believed that everyone had these kinds of thoughts in their heads. but somehow they were better able to deal with it better.
What do I mean by anxiety? Some situations, usually those that contain a fair degree of uncertainty, cause me stress and discomfort. Going to a new place, meeting new people, any number of changes can cause this.
Sometimes it is mild. Going to a gathering where I do not know many of the people, for example, will cause me to try to play it out how it will go. Play out every variable and possible scenario. I try to prepare so that I can know what to do when it happens. Typically, I obsess on it for a bit, then the thing, whatever it is, happens and wouldn't you know it, it turns out fine.
But sometimes I can't visualize it, there are too many unknowns. This paralyzes me. I can't proceed because I don't know what is going to happen. Maybe, I just don't show up. Maybe I do show up, but I've worked myself to such a state that I can't function correctly. Maybe I stay off to the side and don't interact. Maybe I have to engage and my words run on top of themselves as I try to do the thing despite the panic that builds up inside of me. Maybe it's a social situation and I have drink to relax. Maybe that helps. Maybe I drink too much because no amount of booze can ease the panic at that point.
That last scenario has embarrassed me to varying degrees more than once. (Some will say I just have a drinking problem. I say that the word just underestimates the complexity of the situation.)
I've always been very aware that I do this. I simply didn't understand that this was something that not everyone faces. Again, I believed until very recently that everyone else just handled it better. Now I'm coming to understand that perhaps most people just walk in to a situation without much thought at all.
Imagine the scenario where my significant other says, 'let's do something fun today.' I say, 'sure, what do you want to do?' 'Doesn't matter, whatever, let's be spontaneous!' My chest starts to tighten. I start asking questions, trying to eliminate the uncertainty. She becomes irritated and questions why we can't just do some fun. I try. Really try to play along, but now the conversation is edging towards an argument and I don't know how that is going to go either. My pulse races, my temper gets shorter. I demand that she just tell me what she wants, and I'll make it happen. She is now angry and... Just. Doesn't. Understand. Why. This. Always. Happens.
And at the time, I couldn't explain it. I lacked the vocabulary.
(In case you were wondering this was not something that only happened with my most recent ex. This has played out in many relationships.)
At least now, I know that is what an anxiety attack looks like, for me anyhow. Just understanding that is extremely helpful.
I know this is getting to be a long post, and I apologize for that. Consider the above background, because I have yet to come anywhere near my point.
In the last 18 months I've suffered two traumas. First, my wife left me and for all intents and purposes vanished into thin air. Then 14 weeks later, I lost my job of 6.5 years for no good reason. Maybe these things should not have traumatized me, I understand that many people have been through much worse, yet there is no doubt that these events where traumatic to me.
And since then I've had moments where I sort of re-live conversations with her, or moments at work. Moments that indicate that these things should not have happened. Or moments that in hindsight foretold clearly that they would.
Sometimes these episodes, for lack of a better word, last a split second. I physically shake my head, or say out loud. "shut the fuck up" to make it go away and it does. It is unsettling, but over time this is happening with less frequency. I find these shorter episodes have become pretty manageable.
Other times, they last longer. They start the same way, but then one image, one memory collides into the next. My anxiety kicks in. I start to replay the situations. Try to figure out how they should have gone. Try to fix them... even though they are set in stone. My pulse soars. My breathing becomes shallow and rapid. I'm panicking about things that have happened over a year ago. It's like a bad horror movie where I see myself going into the basement where the ax murderer is hiding, but no matter how loud I shout in my head, I can't stop it from happening. These last maybe 5 minutes, maybe an hour. But once I finally get past the worst of it, I'm drained.
The first month she was gone, these things happened 20 to 30 times a day. Mostly short little episodes. Now, they may happen once every day or two. The full blown panic attacks maybe once every two weeks.
I am confident that this will continue to get better with time. For that, I am grateful.
The reason I am telling you about this is, simply, because I don't know who you are. This blog is virtually unread (due mostly to the fact that I rarely bother to update it.) Be that as it may, someone will eventually read this, and that is important to me. I want to explain this to someone, anyone, because I've been utterly unable to articulate this to the people I do know in the real world.
In the last few weeks I've had a few conversations with a some friends and family. They start like, " are you giving up on getting a real job?" Or "It seems like sometimes you just shut down, what's going on with you?" To me, these conversations, although I know they are well meaning, all sound like, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Sometimes, I try to explain. But I never get far. I tell them that I'm still trying deal with the fact that she left or that the former job left me high and dry. Before I can even really start to explain what this is like for me, they will interrupt with, "that was over a year ago" or some such response that has a veiled 'why the fuck can't you move on?' buried in it.
The fact is that I am moving on. Not as fast, as well or as normally as they might like. But I am.
So back to the beginning. I suffer from mental illness. Under normal circumstances, I manage pretty well. For the last 18 months, not so well. But I'm getting there. If my issues were physical and visible, I'd hope that people would be more patient and accommodating. But they are invisible. While there may be less stigma, no one wants to hear that you are mentally ill.
So, here I am, telling this to you, because maybe you will understand. I can handle the rest. I would really just like to be heard and understood for once.
You cannot know how much I hated typing that.
Yes, I know that mental illness does not have the kind of stigma that it used to. But, the fact is, I was raised during a time where we might be understanding that someone has a mental illness, but we did not suffer from that sort of thing.
The funny thing is, no one thinks I don't suffer from the things I suffer from. We just don't call it that.
Note: The point of this post, I hope, will be clear to those who read it. But in case it is not, this post is not soliciting advice about how to manage these issues. Any comments telling me to medicate, see this or that professional or recommending mindful-this or new age that will be deleted.
I'm pretty upfront about having depression. For the few who still don't get what that means, it is not sadness. It's not being blue or in the dumps. The best I can describe it is as a kind of grayness. Everything is less bright. Things have less meaning than they should. It becomes easy to intellectually wonder, why bother at all.
Luckily, my depression is pretty mild. It is a thing that sometimes happens. I can work through it, knowing that it is what it is and I go through the motions even if they feel pointless. After a few days, or upon rare occasion weeks, I feel more like myself and move on.
I was first diagnosed with depression when I was 16. Over the next few years I spent some bullshit time with psychiatrists (spelled with an M.D.) This went on until I was 22 or so when I met with a new shrink, who after talking with me for 15 minutes declared the reason I had not had good results was because I was misdiagnosed. I wasn't depressive, I was bi-polar. I explained that I didn't really get the up (manic) swings that should come with that. She was not bothered by this, she explained sometimes those represent differently.
And she had a solution. A new medicine was out that would fix this. Prozac. She wrote a prescription and said we would follow up in a month.
3 weeks later, I tried to kill myself. (The attempt was sincere, the execution was clumsy in a very Jeckles way.) Luckily, I was able to avoid hospitalization, so no one but a very few friends ever knew it happened. I never went back. I stopped taking the meds. The shrink never followed up to see if I was okay. And I've never had the urge to commit suicide since.
So like I said, I manage it. And that works for me.
Here's the thing, in the last six months, I've realized that depression is not the extent of my illness.
I suffer from extreme anxiety. I always have. (For what is worth, my therapist helped me identify this.)
The anxiety was always there, yet I did not have the vocabulary to describe it. I had honestly believed that everyone had these kinds of thoughts in their heads. but somehow they were better able to deal with it better.
What do I mean by anxiety? Some situations, usually those that contain a fair degree of uncertainty, cause me stress and discomfort. Going to a new place, meeting new people, any number of changes can cause this.
Sometimes it is mild. Going to a gathering where I do not know many of the people, for example, will cause me to try to play it out how it will go. Play out every variable and possible scenario. I try to prepare so that I can know what to do when it happens. Typically, I obsess on it for a bit, then the thing, whatever it is, happens and wouldn't you know it, it turns out fine.
But sometimes I can't visualize it, there are too many unknowns. This paralyzes me. I can't proceed because I don't know what is going to happen. Maybe, I just don't show up. Maybe I do show up, but I've worked myself to such a state that I can't function correctly. Maybe I stay off to the side and don't interact. Maybe I have to engage and my words run on top of themselves as I try to do the thing despite the panic that builds up inside of me. Maybe it's a social situation and I have drink to relax. Maybe that helps. Maybe I drink too much because no amount of booze can ease the panic at that point.
That last scenario has embarrassed me to varying degrees more than once. (Some will say I just have a drinking problem. I say that the word just underestimates the complexity of the situation.)
I've always been very aware that I do this. I simply didn't understand that this was something that not everyone faces. Again, I believed until very recently that everyone else just handled it better. Now I'm coming to understand that perhaps most people just walk in to a situation without much thought at all.
Imagine the scenario where my significant other says, 'let's do something fun today.' I say, 'sure, what do you want to do?' 'Doesn't matter, whatever, let's be spontaneous!' My chest starts to tighten. I start asking questions, trying to eliminate the uncertainty. She becomes irritated and questions why we can't just do some fun. I try. Really try to play along, but now the conversation is edging towards an argument and I don't know how that is going to go either. My pulse races, my temper gets shorter. I demand that she just tell me what she wants, and I'll make it happen. She is now angry and... Just. Doesn't. Understand. Why. This. Always. Happens.
And at the time, I couldn't explain it. I lacked the vocabulary.
(In case you were wondering this was not something that only happened with my most recent ex. This has played out in many relationships.)
At least now, I know that is what an anxiety attack looks like, for me anyhow. Just understanding that is extremely helpful.
I know this is getting to be a long post, and I apologize for that. Consider the above background, because I have yet to come anywhere near my point.
In the last 18 months I've suffered two traumas. First, my wife left me and for all intents and purposes vanished into thin air. Then 14 weeks later, I lost my job of 6.5 years for no good reason. Maybe these things should not have traumatized me, I understand that many people have been through much worse, yet there is no doubt that these events where traumatic to me.
And since then I've had moments where I sort of re-live conversations with her, or moments at work. Moments that indicate that these things should not have happened. Or moments that in hindsight foretold clearly that they would.
Sometimes these episodes, for lack of a better word, last a split second. I physically shake my head, or say out loud. "shut the fuck up" to make it go away and it does. It is unsettling, but over time this is happening with less frequency. I find these shorter episodes have become pretty manageable.
Other times, they last longer. They start the same way, but then one image, one memory collides into the next. My anxiety kicks in. I start to replay the situations. Try to figure out how they should have gone. Try to fix them... even though they are set in stone. My pulse soars. My breathing becomes shallow and rapid. I'm panicking about things that have happened over a year ago. It's like a bad horror movie where I see myself going into the basement where the ax murderer is hiding, but no matter how loud I shout in my head, I can't stop it from happening. These last maybe 5 minutes, maybe an hour. But once I finally get past the worst of it, I'm drained.
The first month she was gone, these things happened 20 to 30 times a day. Mostly short little episodes. Now, they may happen once every day or two. The full blown panic attacks maybe once every two weeks.
I am confident that this will continue to get better with time. For that, I am grateful.
The reason I am telling you about this is, simply, because I don't know who you are. This blog is virtually unread (due mostly to the fact that I rarely bother to update it.) Be that as it may, someone will eventually read this, and that is important to me. I want to explain this to someone, anyone, because I've been utterly unable to articulate this to the people I do know in the real world.
In the last few weeks I've had a few conversations with a some friends and family. They start like, " are you giving up on getting a real job?" Or "It seems like sometimes you just shut down, what's going on with you?" To me, these conversations, although I know they are well meaning, all sound like, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Sometimes, I try to explain. But I never get far. I tell them that I'm still trying deal with the fact that she left or that the former job left me high and dry. Before I can even really start to explain what this is like for me, they will interrupt with, "that was over a year ago" or some such response that has a veiled 'why the fuck can't you move on?' buried in it.
The fact is that I am moving on. Not as fast, as well or as normally as they might like. But I am.
So back to the beginning. I suffer from mental illness. Under normal circumstances, I manage pretty well. For the last 18 months, not so well. But I'm getting there. If my issues were physical and visible, I'd hope that people would be more patient and accommodating. But they are invisible. While there may be less stigma, no one wants to hear that you are mentally ill.
So, here I am, telling this to you, because maybe you will understand. I can handle the rest. I would really just like to be heard and understood for once.
Wednesday, October 31, 2018
Face the music
I have the day off today. It is my first in ten days. I'm not complaining, I have pushed for more hours every day since I started this job. And I've succeeded. I worked 60 plus hours in that ten day stretch.
I think the managers think I'm a little nuts. They are used to employees who are more than ready to leave early. I volunteer to stay.
Part of it, obviously, is money. The more I work, the more I get paid. But it is more than that. When it is busy and everyone is hopping to get things done, I want to be a part of it. It makes me feel good to contribute to that success. I haven't experienced much success recently, and these little doses of success feel good. There is another reason, and in some ways it may be the most significant to me. My coworkers are the only people I know around here, excepting family. It feels good to be around people and these happen to be the people I know.
Don't get me wrong, it is not as though work is social hour. And those that know me well, know that I'm barely socializing at all. But I am interacting. I know their names and I'm learning their quirks. Some of them I think I like a lot. A few I could live without. But the fact of the matter is, they don't need to be my friends. They just need to be people that I can engage with on some level. I've spent most of a year, more often than not, isolated. And that has taken a real toll on me. Good, bad or indifferent, I crave human interaction.
And I believe that the increased interaction is having a positive effect. It certainly can't be hurting anything.
...
I've been listening to music on my drive to and from work. I'm guessing that most people listen to music on their drive. I haven't for a while. When things don't feel right for me (too much stress, anxiety, depression, whatever); I find that the music bothers me. The sound of it grates on me. I get too much inside my head. So instead, I listen to the news, talk radio or sports radio. The chatter is distracting in a good way. I get engaged with what they are saying instead of my own internal narrative. For the better part of three years that is what I've listened to in the car.
But last week, that wasn't working for me. So I changed the channel, turned up the volume and enjoyed the music. And have every day since.
Music is important to me. I can go on for hours about this band or that. About the evolution of music over time. About why this is great and that is not. It is emotional for me. Songs take me back to a place and time that I originally experienced them. New music speaks to where I am when I hear it. It is for this reason that I sometimes can't enjoy it.
So the fact that I am enjoying it now, for the first time in a while, is a very good thing. It's like my own emotional barometer. And it is telling my that the internal pressure system I've been living through has started to break up.
I guess all that says a bit about the state of affairs in my head. Which is something I intend to write about, but I haven't quite found the words yet.
So I have the day off today, and tomorrow I'll be back back it. Beyond that I don't really have a plan or know where I'm going or even where I should be. But at least I can enjoy the music in the meantime.
I think the managers think I'm a little nuts. They are used to employees who are more than ready to leave early. I volunteer to stay.
Part of it, obviously, is money. The more I work, the more I get paid. But it is more than that. When it is busy and everyone is hopping to get things done, I want to be a part of it. It makes me feel good to contribute to that success. I haven't experienced much success recently, and these little doses of success feel good. There is another reason, and in some ways it may be the most significant to me. My coworkers are the only people I know around here, excepting family. It feels good to be around people and these happen to be the people I know.
Don't get me wrong, it is not as though work is social hour. And those that know me well, know that I'm barely socializing at all. But I am interacting. I know their names and I'm learning their quirks. Some of them I think I like a lot. A few I could live without. But the fact of the matter is, they don't need to be my friends. They just need to be people that I can engage with on some level. I've spent most of a year, more often than not, isolated. And that has taken a real toll on me. Good, bad or indifferent, I crave human interaction.
And I believe that the increased interaction is having a positive effect. It certainly can't be hurting anything.
...
I've been listening to music on my drive to and from work. I'm guessing that most people listen to music on their drive. I haven't for a while. When things don't feel right for me (too much stress, anxiety, depression, whatever); I find that the music bothers me. The sound of it grates on me. I get too much inside my head. So instead, I listen to the news, talk radio or sports radio. The chatter is distracting in a good way. I get engaged with what they are saying instead of my own internal narrative. For the better part of three years that is what I've listened to in the car.
But last week, that wasn't working for me. So I changed the channel, turned up the volume and enjoyed the music. And have every day since.
Music is important to me. I can go on for hours about this band or that. About the evolution of music over time. About why this is great and that is not. It is emotional for me. Songs take me back to a place and time that I originally experienced them. New music speaks to where I am when I hear it. It is for this reason that I sometimes can't enjoy it.
So the fact that I am enjoying it now, for the first time in a while, is a very good thing. It's like my own emotional barometer. And it is telling my that the internal pressure system I've been living through has started to break up.
I guess all that says a bit about the state of affairs in my head. Which is something I intend to write about, but I haven't quite found the words yet.
So I have the day off today, and tomorrow I'll be back back it. Beyond that I don't really have a plan or know where I'm going or even where I should be. But at least I can enjoy the music in the meantime.
Monday, October 22, 2018
Here and now
Hi. I'm Jeckles, my 17 year old son and I live with with my parents. I'm twice divorced and I work at a movie theater. Life, to put it simply, hasn't turned out the way I thought it would.
If you would have met me 2 years ago, I would have told you that I live in a high rise apartment with my wife and my son. And that the view is incredible. That I was part of the leadership team team at an IT Services company. That I was optimistic about the future.
At the moment, I don't give much thought to the future. The present is more than enough.
I started the job Saturday. I trained as a food runner. Lots of running. And crouching while you carry the food. You don't want to block the screen. I've done food service before, and I picked this up pretty quickly. My body on the hand, is still adjusting. My feet and my back are killing me by the end of a shift.
My coworkers are half my age, or younger. I actually like working with the young folks. The have an energy to them, that many of us grown ups have lost. It took 5 days before one of them worked up the nerve to ask me how old I was.
I was worried that I would not get the kind of hours I wanted. That fear was unfounded. Some one always wants to leave early or take a day off. My first scheduled day off was Thursday, but I picked up a shift. I turned my Friday day shift into a 12 hour shift, helping with a busy night. Saturday I started training on ticket sales. That sucked. Extremely boring. I'd much rather do the running, my back be damned. And then, perhaps poetically, on Sunday I had off. I could have pulled a shift, but I decided that there are limits and I was better served taking the day. I was supposed to have Wednesday off as well, but I was able to pick a shift. My first 8 days, netted me 61 or so hours. 4 of them will be overtime. And on top of that, I traveled over 50 miles inside of that building, delivering hundreds of drinks, dozens of sandwiches and oh so much popcorn. This week (our weeks run Friday to Thursday) will mostly be ticket sales, I'm not looking forward to it. But I'm guessing I won't do that much once I'm officially trained. But it will give me one more position that I can pick up for more hours.
If it sounds like I've been a little over the top trying to get hours and learn the job, I probably have been. I have always tried to be the best at whatever I do. And while this job represents more than a little setback in my career, I still intend to excel at it. And the pay is nothing to write home about, but I will make absolutely as much I can while this is what I do.
It might not be a dream job, but honestly it is far better than sitting home stressing about why no one wants to hire me for the kind of job that I thought I deserved. Besides, I am 100 miles from the place that I still consider home, I don't know anyone here except family. My son is busy with school and video games and being 17. I literally have nothing better to do.
For the moment, this is what life looks like, and I'm going to give myself a little break from trying to plan for the future.
If you would have met me 2 years ago, I would have told you that I live in a high rise apartment with my wife and my son. And that the view is incredible. That I was part of the leadership team team at an IT Services company. That I was optimistic about the future.
At the moment, I don't give much thought to the future. The present is more than enough.
I started the job Saturday. I trained as a food runner. Lots of running. And crouching while you carry the food. You don't want to block the screen. I've done food service before, and I picked this up pretty quickly. My body on the hand, is still adjusting. My feet and my back are killing me by the end of a shift.
My coworkers are half my age, or younger. I actually like working with the young folks. The have an energy to them, that many of us grown ups have lost. It took 5 days before one of them worked up the nerve to ask me how old I was.
I was worried that I would not get the kind of hours I wanted. That fear was unfounded. Some one always wants to leave early or take a day off. My first scheduled day off was Thursday, but I picked up a shift. I turned my Friday day shift into a 12 hour shift, helping with a busy night. Saturday I started training on ticket sales. That sucked. Extremely boring. I'd much rather do the running, my back be damned. And then, perhaps poetically, on Sunday I had off. I could have pulled a shift, but I decided that there are limits and I was better served taking the day. I was supposed to have Wednesday off as well, but I was able to pick a shift. My first 8 days, netted me 61 or so hours. 4 of them will be overtime. And on top of that, I traveled over 50 miles inside of that building, delivering hundreds of drinks, dozens of sandwiches and oh so much popcorn. This week (our weeks run Friday to Thursday) will mostly be ticket sales, I'm not looking forward to it. But I'm guessing I won't do that much once I'm officially trained. But it will give me one more position that I can pick up for more hours.
If it sounds like I've been a little over the top trying to get hours and learn the job, I probably have been. I have always tried to be the best at whatever I do. And while this job represents more than a little setback in my career, I still intend to excel at it. And the pay is nothing to write home about, but I will make absolutely as much I can while this is what I do.
It might not be a dream job, but honestly it is far better than sitting home stressing about why no one wants to hire me for the kind of job that I thought I deserved. Besides, I am 100 miles from the place that I still consider home, I don't know anyone here except family. My son is busy with school and video games and being 17. I literally have nothing better to do.
For the moment, this is what life looks like, and I'm going to give myself a little break from trying to plan for the future.
Friday, October 12, 2018
What comes next
Today, for the first time in just about ten months, I went to work. Well, sort of. I showed up and signed some papers and got a quick tour. Tomorrow I will start work for real.
I'll be working at a movie theater. A cool theater that serves beer and food to you while you watch your movie. I'll be training to be a food runner.
15 years of Information Technology experience, followed by 5 years of business management experience and now this.
My resume sent to organizations beyond count. Dozens of calls. About a dozen serious in person interviews. And not one of them felt I was the best the fit for their organization.
I lowered my standards. I changed my strategy. I went on unemployment. And then those benefits ended. I moved me and my son to another state to live with my parents.
Two years ago I was confident and optimistic. Now, not so much. My family and friends want me to be look at this as a temporary situation. While I regroup.
I can't imagine a future that is different this. At least not permanently, In a six month period, my wife left without reason, my job, with a company I'd been with for over six years, was eliminated for reasons that don't make sense and my divorce was finalized.
Much of what was my life was taken from me with out warning or reason. I can't see ever believing that anything is permanent. The only constant is my son. He's 17. He will move in adulthood and own his life before that long.
I am excited to have the job. It will be nice to interact with other people. I haven't done that at all in months. I'll get to watch a lot of movies. I'll be able to afford gas and cigarettes without asking my folks for money. But I can only get so excited about a job that will pay me somewhere 10 to 20 percent of what I was making. I should end up just above the poverty line.
Of course, there is more to life than money. But it is hard to plan for anything without it.
I don't know what will happen next. But I am sure that there is nothing that can't be taken from me.
I'll be working at a movie theater. A cool theater that serves beer and food to you while you watch your movie. I'll be training to be a food runner.
15 years of Information Technology experience, followed by 5 years of business management experience and now this.
My resume sent to organizations beyond count. Dozens of calls. About a dozen serious in person interviews. And not one of them felt I was the best the fit for their organization.
I lowered my standards. I changed my strategy. I went on unemployment. And then those benefits ended. I moved me and my son to another state to live with my parents.
Two years ago I was confident and optimistic. Now, not so much. My family and friends want me to be look at this as a temporary situation. While I regroup.
I can't imagine a future that is different this. At least not permanently, In a six month period, my wife left without reason, my job, with a company I'd been with for over six years, was eliminated for reasons that don't make sense and my divorce was finalized.
Much of what was my life was taken from me with out warning or reason. I can't see ever believing that anything is permanent. The only constant is my son. He's 17. He will move in adulthood and own his life before that long.
I am excited to have the job. It will be nice to interact with other people. I haven't done that at all in months. I'll get to watch a lot of movies. I'll be able to afford gas and cigarettes without asking my folks for money. But I can only get so excited about a job that will pay me somewhere 10 to 20 percent of what I was making. I should end up just above the poverty line.
Of course, there is more to life than money. But it is hard to plan for anything without it.
I don't know what will happen next. But I am sure that there is nothing that can't be taken from me.
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