"I am not mentally prepared to go into work today."
"I am not mentally prepared to go into work today."
"If you make me fucking go into work today; I will have a mental break down."
I'm sorry, but mental illness is no excuse for not going into work. Being hurt is not reason for not smiling. Feeling so stressed that you literally have thoughts about killing yourself is not an excuse to be as an ass to the customer who was an ass to you first.
I've worked for the past two years of my life at the same place. It's not a place I'll mention here because I'll at least have some form of delicacy on this thing called the internet. And it's reached the point where I've become absolutely miserable at my work place. And yes, I'm not the only one; you don't see sincerely happy people loving their life working in retail/food. Those aren't careers, they're jobs. And no matter what anyone says they can't be fully happy in them. Anyone feel free to correct me if you think I'm wrong, for now I'll just believe this.
They thing is about my job, I did love it, at one point….at one point work was something I looked forward to. Things were shitty at home, things were hurting me there. And work was where my friends were at, where there were people who were there for me. And then it wasn't, not really, I moved, I transferred to a new work place. And things were okay, but not really. And now things aren't good. Things aren't good at all.
Let me bring you back to October 2011, I was working Subway. I had only been there for about two weeks and I knew people there didn't like me, I was annoying and obnoxious, you know, the type of person I am. I didn't think, though, they would dislike me enough to tell the manager to fire me. But they did. And I had rent due, and I couldn't go without a job. Over the course of a day I applied to nineteen different places. And the next day, one place took me for an interview. This is the place that eventually gave me a job. And you have to understand, at this point, I was desperate. I would've scrubbed the floors with a toothbrush I needed a job so badly. But of course, one develops standards after a bit. My standards didn't even have to be developed, rally. They were just there. I work in one of those places that isn't fast food but isn't really a restaurant either. It's the perfect kind of in between that isn't too stressful under any situation. And the people there were great, I think I was instantly enamored when my trainer sang Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory to me on my first night of work.
"Come with me and you'll see a world of imagination…"
I worked there for nine months and it was sincerely the best nine months of working in my life. The people there were great, and I sincerely got along with pretty much all my coworkers and managers. I genuinely felt well liked and liked people in return. I loved that we could work hard and still be silly at the same time. There was this one coworker of mine who I would always sing cat songs with, to the customers, right after we closed. Sometimes we would laugh so hard that we would literally fall to the floor. And there was a magic time of day when we all had to stop and pause and just look at the sunset streaming in. The thing is about that place, I mean, there were bad times too. There was once when I was so stressed and angry I hid and the back and threw around dishes. There were times when someone was perhaps badmouthing someone else, or I accidentally hurt someone's feelings with my foot in mouth disease. But those aren't the times I really remember from it. I really remember all the times my coworkers would wait around for me and my ride. I remember the time I cam in sick and all my coworkers jumped on me, telling me they wouldn't allow me to work and I needed to go home and rest. I remember the going away party they threw me where they bought me gifts and everyone was hugging and crying. I'll remember that. I remember that it was wonderful and that I loved the place.
But then I had to go to college, I had to transfer stores. And it wasn't the same feeling at all. Everyone on this new crew was negative, no one liked their job, no ones wanted to be there half the time. When I spoke I felt like a nuisance. And they made jokes about me, how I was scary because I was such a fast worker. A lot of them (not all) really didn't care much about work ethic. This was just a job they had, not something they really tried at. And I don't know, it just kind of dragged everything about work down for me. And it was hard to make friends; they're only a few solid people who I actually consider friends from this place. Everyone else is just someone I work with. And it was bad, for a while, but then I got used to it. Because I suppose that's just how it was going to be. But then summer happened and everything just went, to use the phrase, from bad to worse.
And now, now it's at the point where it's hard to describe. Only that I hate work everyday I go into it. It's making me miserable.
I had a point to everything, I did…
Meh.
Fin.
-Keshia
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