Fuck!!!

I wish someone would tell me how to permanently stop some spam from getting through to my comments.  And why there is one commenter who’s comments get blocked by the spam thing every single time she stops by.

Fuck.

That’s how I feel tonight.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I’m hating my life right now.  Hating it.  I’ve been told you can’t have all three…boyfriend, job, home.  I have two.  Adam is the best thing to ever happen to me.  I can’t remember what life was like before him.  (You don’t have to remind me either.)  I love our apartment.  It’s awesome.  Except for the leak in the foyer.  Which is back.  But we ignore because there’s nothing we can do and it really serves no purpose to complain.

I have Adam.  I have a home.

I hate my job.  It’s sucking the life out of me.  I’m not exaggerating.  I also know that I’ve talked about this before.  But really it’s a soul sucking job.  Waiting tables is hard, even when you are making money.  When you are not making money it’s the pits.  Tonight was the second worst night I’ve had since I worked there.  Two weeks ago was the worst.  Tonight I had to walk away from a table while they were still talking to me.  I didn’t excuse myself.  I just turned and walked away.  They’d been there for almost two hours.  Their bill was 96 bucks.  They gave me 61.50 in cash to apply toward the bill.  The rest they wanted on a card.  “We tip you later.”  I returned with the card.  Say thank you and walk away.  I go back about three minutes later.  They hand me the credit card receipt, and five fucking dollars…and wait.  Hold for it.  They wanted to know where they could go drinking after they left my restaurant.  It took all of my power not to send them to the South Bronx.  I looked at them, I turned and just walked away.

Five fucking dollars.  On a hundred dollar check.  And the table that left just before them.  10 dollars on a hundred.  They were fucking French Canadian so I knew what to expect.

I also doesn’t help that my schedule has been sucking.  There is no consistency.  I don’t have the same days off.  I know longer work in the same sections.  I have next Friday off.  Which is the first Friday I’ve had off that I didn’t request in over a year.  Why do I have it off?  I don’t fucking know.  I do know as of lately, Friday is the only day that I make money and I didn’t get it next week.  I don’t even try and talk to my managers anymore.  Talking to Harper, our cat, is more useful.  At least Harper pretends to be interested.

I hate my job.

I hate my job.

I hate my job.

I hate my job.

I hate my job.

I hate my job.

There I said it.  I hate my job.  What worries me most is that it will start to make me miserable in the rest of my life.  I don’t feel like I’m keeping up my end of the bargain with Adam.  He didn’t sign on to support me.  I don’t feel like we can do things socially because I don’t have any money.  I still haven’t paid February’s rent.  I was supposed to make it this week but from the looks of things I’m not going to be anywhere close.  He says not to worry about it but how can I help not worry about it.

And so I scour the websites that list jobs for me and there aren’t any.  None at all.  ZIP!  Nada.  So it’s not like I’m just sitting around waiting.  And the last two or three jobs I’ve seen have been for places like Sherman, Texas.  We’d be run out of town in a minute in Sherman, Texas.  That is of course if I could pry Adam’s hands from the do0r to get him in the car to take him there in the first place.

AND…

All of this is made worse by the fact that I haven’t been sleeping well.  I just lie there in the dark.  Listening to Adam breathe.  Waiting to fall asleep.  Last night I’d finally fallen a sleep and someone from work texted me…at four fucking am in the morning.  What the fuck.  I yelled at her about it today.  She told me it’s because she sleeps too late in the day and so she thought she’d do it before she went to bed.  She now has been given fair warning as to what will happen the next fucking time she thinks about texting me at four fucking am in the morning.  So the phone beeps, and I wake up.  And I’m still awake at 6:30.  I was awake when Adam got up for work and I was awake when he left.  I finally got out of bed around 10:00.  Had some Diet Coke and a piece of cake that Adam made over the weekend.  Checked my email.  And around 10:45 got back in bed.  And finally I slept until the alarm went off at 2:00.  Of course by then my day was gone.   All I got to do was shower and head to work.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I hate my job.

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5 thoughts on “Fuck!!!

  1. catrina February 11, 2010 / 08:43

    I’m SO sorry! I know that having a job you hate sucks the life out of ya. Sadly, it DOES affect the good parts of your life, too. I’m just happy that you have a supportive partner. I wouldn’t last a day in the food service industry—I’d be fired for asking those idiots where my tip was! I can only hope it gets better for you.

  2. Peter February 11, 2010 / 16:04

    Fuck indeed!!!

  3. dirkmancuso February 11, 2010 / 17:38

    I’m right there with ya on the “I hate my job” thing.

  4. javabear February 11, 2010 / 20:38

    I had a job that stressed me out so much I was afraid I would keel over. I quit. Yeah, different situations. Damn, I’m sorry Maddog. Wish I could do something constructive to help.

  5. Rich Monsoon February 13, 2010 / 01:00

    I have had jobs that suck the life out of me, and I had to leave. I had one job I absolutely loved and I worked 12 hrs a day I left the only job I ever really enjoyed because I was being sexually harassed and I reported it so many times without shit being done.
    Those tips are absolute bullshit. Especially in these times. If you are going somewhere and you don’t know what it customary to tip, you can look online or even ask. (I usually over tip anyway, unless the service is horrid)
    As for the 4 am text, my phone has an alarm only setting on it, that I found accidentally. I use it sometimes. It wont ring or vibrate or anything. The alarm will sound when its set for and that is it.

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