I was supposed to go to my second day of work Friday night at 11pm. I had written the previous post at 9am, thinking that, if I just got some rest, took some happy pills, I'd be better and I'd just go to work, no biggie. I slept all day, until I had to get up at 9pm to get ready to go to work. I spent half of my time in the shower laying at the bottom of the tub, crying. Obviously, I wasn't feeling any better. But I even got dressed. I sat with my bag next to me, coat across my lap, in the dark in the comfy chair in the computer room. Then, right before 10, just before the one hour prior call in time and just before going back to bed in a depression induced stupor, I called in to the job. I just told them I was calling in for the night. My arm hurt. (Which it kinda did after using the arm I hurt falling off the truck to throw packages the night before.) Then I called in to the temp place, which was of course closed, and left them a message too, just like I was supposed to. Only I think this one was slightly more rambling. When BT asked me tonight what exactly I said, I told him that I think it was something about how the job was killing my soul and I wasn't going back. (At which point he smacked his own head and hung his head there in his hands.) BT suggests I call back tomorrow (or actually today- Sunday), leave another message on their voice mail, saying I was out of my mind, I want to work the job and I will be there as scheduled on Monday if they will still have me, please, please, please. I think 1) I'm going to ask my mom about it, 2) I'm going to ask TyRoy about it, 3) I'm going to ask MP about it (though his answer Friday morning was that it gets much easier once your soul dies), and 4) if I continue with this job, I think I'll have to take 2 of my 3 daily happy pills at my last break, to get me through the rest of the day.
Another big problem I have is with the "one hour mandatory overtime." I was told by my temp agency that I was to work 11pm-730am (which means 8 hours and no paid lunch time though you still have to take it). Fine, no biggie. But at 6am, my leader asks me if my agency had told me about the one hour mandatory overtime. No, my agency had not. My agency had warned m that I might have to stay later if there was more work and that I might get sent home before 8 hours was up if they just didn't have enough work for us. As far as I could see, all our work was getting done, so I wasn't really sure what I'd be doing extra for that hour. As everyone had different hours, it was hard for me to see if we were really getting all our work done or if we were behind. But no one told me. That day, I went home at 7:30am, mostly because I think I'd have started crying right there at my desk for no real reason if I'd stayed later. And they'd sent another girl home instead of giving her anymore overtime. Maybe she had been there longer and made more per hour. Either way, it sucked and I made sure I told my temp place that, during business hours, but I had told her that I thought I could hang with it for a while. Then I didn't go in.
But, as I was relating this to BT, who had more sympathy for me than most people in in shoes would, considering he just got back from a 24/7 job that he had for....a year pretty much, 8 months of it in country and that he has always worked shit jobs with long hours and low pay and seems to rarely have had a car so he was always walking too, I started thinking more about how most people live like this. On Friday morning, driving home, I was thinking about my mom and my grandma and my grandpa and my uncle, who have always worked kinda crappy jobs, in one way or another, but never seemed to come home angry. As I was talking to BT, I realized that I can sympathize with guys and girls who come home and are rude and cranky to their kids and spouses because their job sucks and it just took everything they had out of them, but the come home and their kids and spouses want more, which they just don't have to give.
When I got to the thought that maybe that is why my step-dad is so crabby all the time, I realized that I'm just like that. When I work a regular 9-5 kinda job (I include 3rd shift jobs where I work 8 hours in that), I'm just like that. I'm a total raving bitch! I know I"ve told the story in this blog about working the data entry job in the cave, which I hated. I'm not sure if I related how my family wanted me to contribute more, especially by coooking dinner (=what they were used to eating and wanted to eat for dinner) since I was the first one home. That was not an unreasonable demand whatsoever. But the times that my step-dad tried to teach me how to cook specific dishes were disasters, the second one ending in me telling him to cook his own damn dinner and then I went crying into the bathroom, where I stayed for several hours. I now realize that those incidents were just as much about him being a horrible teacher and "why can't I cook what I want to cook" as they were about me coming home from work a raving bitch. I am not a good, sweet, nice person when I come home. I'm not saying that my mom has sunshine coming out of her ass when she comes home from work everday, but she really is a generally cheery person when she comes home. My step-dad is not, ever. And I am really not a cheery person when I come home from a 9-5 job.
What the fuck am I going to do???? Please leave suggestions.