They begin as follows -
I am up before my alarm goes off. This is usually because I have been
previously awakened and am already stressed out about the day; or I am about to
fall back asleep but realize I might as well get up now.
Once in the bathroom I have to fix my hair to make it look not as stupid as
it already appears. This also involves adding products and so forth to continue
fighting that battle to try and like what I have.
Then I have to shave. And while I think I've gotten pretty good at it, it
takes effort and time. I have to because a guy black hair and white stubble
would arouse too many questions, stares, and dirty looks more than I already
can deal with.
Then I get dressed. Every time I put on a shirt I am reminded of how much I
hate collar shirts.
Downstairs I go and eat my minimalist breakfast, brush my teeth and out the
door. If I am not getting picked up for the carpool I recently joined, then I
must do all of this 20 minutes earlier to catch a bus to the station to either
ride the train or get the carpool there. The latter can be frustrating in that
I basically stand around on the other side of the platform waiting ~ 15 minutes
for the other carpool drivers to arrive.
But while being in a passenger in a carpool has its advantages, it's
certainly not without its drawbacks. For one thing they all listen to the worst
music. And I don't just mean the genre; I mean that all the songs have the same
formula and structure, all recorded on a computer. The songs are long on modern
'production', but woefully lacking in sonic presence, quality and talent.
Skillfully played, but absolutely nothing good.
But even if that weren't the case, it's not like it'd be much better. Sure
the others are nice people and I think they mean well, but after awhile it
becomes very difficult to smile politely being forced to listen to them
complain about rental properties, campers, how wonderful their kids are at
everything they do (I always feel there is something up when a parent refers to
their child as 'we'), how they only work because they feel like it or just for
'vaca-cash'.
Once in the office, I begin checking email. this is probably Stress #1 as I
get to find out all the things I missed trying to sleep last night and all the
things that have been pointed out as wrong by smarter, more capable and driven people.
Then I try to resurrect my reputation by trying to respond of follow up.
Next is a new communication nightmare – Slack. This one’s worse than email
in that messages go to all sorts of people and one can never know if one is
every getting through. The horrible thing about Slack is that because it transcends
email at times, one can have a whole issue going on in one communication medium,
that’s not present in another.
Then there’s the laundry list of things I haven’t gotten done yet, that my
boss, boss’s boss, and boss’s boss’s boss are wondering about. It’s amazing I
haven’t yet been canned.
Then there’s various project work that I’m sure I’m not getting done, or am
behind on, or am not doing well to various peoples’ satisfaction.
It always feels like my face is up on some target some where; and all these
leaders are practicing their shooting for the day I actually get fired.
It’s no wonder I have to step away from my desk repeatedly (when not going
for a piss). I just need space from all things around here at times – maybe that’s
a sign? Maybe that means something.
At times it literally feels like I’m surrounded by people who’d like nothing
better than to see me walked out the door in a very public and embarrassing fashion.
Back in the carpool, back to home. Nowadays I’m forced to check email and
Slack once again to ensure I’m not missing anything or not behind on something.
I get in my 5-minute workout, then more product in the hair. Then I get to
listen to various family members bitch, complain, yell, scream, whine, or
blather about all things I wasn’t around for. I also get complaints about not
being more involved, not moving dishes, not watching CV jr, Then it’s up the stairs
with one of the older kids to re-watch old TV shows, then trying to get jr to sleep
before I collapse out of physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion; all to
repeat the next weekday.
That’s my weekday – can you see why I hate it so. It’s my fault in that I
created a life and set of responsibilities that I’m now set up to maintain. But
it’s up to me to change all that, while there’s still time.
