Hear comes the rain again…
Bouncing off my head like some mammaries…
Goddamn this seasonal depression is a bitch. I wonder if it would be better or worse if I didn’t have regular depression year round? Well, that’s something I’m not ever going to know.
Stress has been growing as of late due in large part to increasing dissatisfaction at my job. Now, before I go any further, it’s worth mentioning that I’m not sure the “ideal” job exists for me. All I really want is to create the things I want to create and get paid for it. As previously illustrated, while this may be an option for some, I have clearly, miserably failed at turning an actual profit with my art.
Oh well. But yeah…
My ideal job seems far more fantasy than reality. As such, I’ve got to take something less than ideal to keep a roof over our head, food in our bellies, and meds in my brain. That’s not to say I don’t like working in Vet med, it just isn’t a dream of mine. Because of this, I’m willing to tolerate a lot if only because getting another Vet med job seems like more of a lateral move rather than a horizontal one and, in my faulty thinking, if I have to move anywhere other than forward, I just don’t really care to. It’s not the best viewpoint by far, but being as lazy as I am, it’s the easiest, so it’s what I do.
Lately though, work’s gotten a lot more unpleasant. As much as I enjoy being overnight, some of my favorite people are leaving. Unfortunately, one of those is the manager who sticks up for us and serves as a buffer from the higher ups. She was, is, the heart of the team as far as I can tell and I just don’t see it persisting in any worthwhile way. There is a lot of toxicity in this practice, with a good deal of mean girl bullshit and entitlement. Like so many places, I suspected that it came from the top. This was all but confirmed when the owner and lead doctor gave a very aggressive, loud dressing down of one of the cleaning staff in a room full of people.
What an absolutely disgusting thing to do, as though she were a child throwing a tantrum rather than a supposedly respected business owner. Thing is, that is absolutely true for one’s own employees. Our cleaning staff though? Outside company. We’re just a stop of theirs.
As far as I’m concerned, there’s no difference between what she did and what some Sunday-after-church cunts do to the waitstaff. It’s the action of entitled trash, it’s the resort of the bully.
It’s easy to get high and mighty with all of this, and maybe I’m doing that. I know I have my faults, and I know my temper isn’t always the best, but I don’t want to end up like the people that hurt me. I don’t want to be a bully.
And I don’t want to make money for one. Not if I can help it.
Dicks for listening!