Just heard Darla on "Angel" yell those words at the main character ... so decided it would make a great title for the blog. Eh, not bad.
As most of you know, I work at the local big box store. The one purported to eat up all the other businesses and shit them all out of its ginormous backside. It's convenient, close to home, and oh yeah, after 15 years of being a stay-at-home mom, the only place who would employ me. And when you have a nutso husband getting ready to leave you after 23 years of being together, getting a job is pretty important.
First, I was part of the rebuild crew. The people that take a small store and make it SUPER. Very hard work, heavy lifting, monotonous, unskilled, and rather painful. Then I got the call last Saturday night -- an offer of a permanent position and off the rebuild crew. A position I actually wanted.
I started this job last night and it's better. No more building the store. Now I'm in the command center ... okay, they call it the back room, but that's because it would make the other employees jealous. "I'm in the command center, where are you?" Okay, that's how I see it anyhow. So, I'm in the command center ... basically pulling inventory, putting it on carts for the stockers, taking their inventory back in the morning, and putting it back up on "the steel." All this needs to be done electronically. Every single piece needs to have a special place and needs to be recorded or ... total chaos. Seriously. TIME WOULD STAND STILL. Speaking of time, my job is timed, on a ticking click. Like that hit show "24." You don't get the first part (the pulling) done by 2:30am and a bomb goes off. Well, all right, not literally, but you are screwed because all the intel gets wiped out of our handheld scanners ... and the boss, he'll have your ass because you didn't do your job.
I'm a donkey, a pull horse ... perhaps even a goat at times. And there's always the feel of the whip at my back and the screams of FASTER FASTER.
Still, I got a raise and I know it's good that in this bad economy, I'm making a few more dollars than minimum wage when I haven't "worked" in over a decade, but there's still this nagging thing, this voice asking, "Is this really for you?" Or worse, the one that asks, "Are you happy?" Or more terrible still, "Is my brain replacing all the information that makes me, well ME, and replacing it with this junk? Will I someday not care how I look, lose a few teeth, about 50 IQ points, and live alone with like 50 cats?"
I guess change is like this and if it didn't hurt sometimes, you really wouldn't change at all. The one thing I've learned more than any other is don't get comfortable. The minute things get nice and cozy, here comes major upheaval. And ... if you're a woman who relies on someone else for a living, make damned sure you can get a career in case he leaves, dies, or disappears. But love, like life, is forever taken for granted and so my warning will go unheeded.
Maybe it's just more important what I tell myself. Like, "You did good, Beth. You're doing this all on your own with no one's help and you're actually thriving in your own humble way. Even with a broken heart, you're holding it all together instead of crumbling into a billion pieces. Job well done."
Labels: big box theory, bonehead husbands, inventory, steel, working