This is True, Just Not for Me

I spend hours at work reading things on the internet that are not related to my job or my continuing education (in the formal sense). I read from sources that more or less align with my world view, because I am human, and from a few reputable gossipy trash sites that the filters will let me get to. Some days I get little bits out of what I read, occasional history lessons, reasons to become a vegetarian and/or a better person, affirmations that i'm not a complete twat, confirmation that I am exactly the person that i don't want to be.

Last semester I took Psych 101, because I needed a fluffy class to flesh out all the harder sciences and numerous labs i was taking. My professor often sent out links to articles that he thought the class would find relevant, both personally and for the class. When I ran across an article on Slate about the inability for millennials to grow up I thought,"how fitting," and composed an email to my professor.

I never sent that email.

I read the article twice, I couldn't tell you why, and the first time through it was a very good assessment of the people I was surrounded by. The second time through hurt.

I am in some ways (thank goodness not all) this person.

Yes, at 26, I am a millennial. I don't like it but as far as discussing demographic I fall firmly into the first decade of this group. I am a product of the internet, of instant, of a very tiny world.

And like most millennials I am lost. You know that, you've read this blog once or twice and are well aware that i can and will bather on about myself and my lack of happiness and my inability to connect with people. I'm basically a narcissist, don't want to think that but it's more true than not so much so that in twenty or so years the DSM of the day will have eliminated narcissism because it'll be the norm.

That little break through isn't special, you've seen it before and you'll see it again.

Here I am at 26 working on what will probably be a second bachelors degree with the hopes of medical school. Part of me is already looking for something new, i am restless and tired of being broke. I like to label all of this as wanderlust.

Wanderlust is now defined as the avoidance of failure .



Does anyone want to fund a spring break trip for me?

The Lazy Boomerang

Yesterday, I was at work and one of the regular clients came in and was chatting, they do this sometimes, and he brought up some current news topics. So he sidles on to the Occupy Wall Street protests and that is where the encounter goes south.

I should have learned by now that I am of a different world view than most of the people that I work with, live near, and am forced to interact with in a fake-smiley work way, and at this point I should have learned that the fake smiling gets me farther with people than opening my mouth and expressing an opinion. All that said, I am human and apparently like the abuse that comes with being a young adult that can't afford to live on their own.

So he blabs about the protesters being lazy, no-goods, and says, and this is a real quote, not something like a quote that I'm putting in quotation marks, "This is America, there are plenty of jobs, they can have any job they want." Ok, Herman Cain, whatever you say.

I stupidly said, "we (referring to my fellow teller and myself) only work three days a week," as in the company that we work for, that I actually like, doesn't have the money to employ full-timers, so I'm happy to have my sad hours instead of nothing, while I try to figure out what to do with the BA I earned in three and a half years. Though, I only said the stupid part, so when he called me lazy and said I should get a second job, I probably deserved it, right?

I don't think so.

But we're all entitled to our opinions and Fox News in a legitimate news source so I guess I should be happy he isn't completely ignorant.

For the record, I am many things but I am not lazy. I quit my second job because I was actually spending more money to get to it than I was making. I hated it, I hated myself while being there, I hated how I was treated by customers, I hated how I was treated by fellow employees and I hated how it looked on my resume. So I quit, I am picking up gigs that I wouldn't have been able to do otherwise, I am picking up hours that I wouldn't have been able to pick up otherwise. I am still looking for a job that is both satisfying, interesting and pays enough (because I can't hold out for decently or even reasonably). And I've been called pretty twice in a week by people who had never seen me outside of my former work place. As in, "You're so pretty, that place must of been aweful! Look at you're smile!"

So I don't regret backing down to one part-time job. But walk a mile in my shoes.

Also the man is a small business owner. I don't have much money. He has the same amount as me in all of his accounts combined. He makes daily deposits that are twice the size of my savings account, so somehow I win.

That was mean. But I'm not lazy.

Gossip: You Throw It Out and It Comes Right Back to You

I think I've made it clear how I feel about working retail, especailly my current retail job. My Independence Day blow up (which I turn a pretty shade of purple when talking about, I wonder what a psychologist would say about  mixed sense pride and shame?) is still haunting me. And I know, the situation is one of those that will take a bit to get to disappear, but the people that keep coming to me telling me its still being talked about aren't even people I work with. The people talking about the whole thing aren't the supposed unsophisticated-youngins' working their first job, traumatized by the horrors of working for a company who knows that you are utterly replaceable.

No the gossipers are the middle aged ladies with real jobs and children my age. Children, who, if put in my position on that day, would have angry mothers breathing hell fire. But since I am somehow less human then their flunky children I deserve much worse than I got, which was nothing. My boss sighed and asked me not to quit, apologized for something she had nothing to do with and accepted my apology for not handling it better. Since then with few exceptions work has been rather peaceful, the talking behind people's backs still runs rampant but I suppose that's just the nature of the beast.

Now, because the incident was with a lower manager and the gossiper is her equal I'm stuck. I either suffer through the my already painful job with the added bit of whispering and backstabbing or I quit. So, I'm going to quit.

And if I'm being honest, I'm not good at quitting. I've quit twice in my life, once after the managers decided that I was lying about being sick because I didn't sound sick (I'm polite enough not to take the phone to the bathroom with me) and the second time was my July 4th incident of this year (and that didn't stick).

I need you to hold me accountable. Keep me from going back to the lack of respect and the lack of pay. Today, the curmudgeons win. But I'm looking bigger picture here.

Job Sympathy for the Boomerang

In an interesting turn of events, the last few days have been filled with questions and condolences regarding a promotion I recently lost an outside hire (I was unqualified, I was considered based on personality and speed). I knew long before I was officially turned down that the woman I would have been assisting was looking elsewhere for that experience I didn't have, so when I got the call saying they had hired someone else (I know, first reject call in a long, well, ever) I wasn't terribly disappointed.

My boss, reassured me it was for the best, though I think he's being selfish about the whole thing. He needs me to edit the papers he has to write for the class he is taking, even he knows I'm in the wrong profession. And in quick passing the HR person in charge of the whole debacle expressed her deep sympathy over the whole thing. Like it was somehow her fault. It couldn't be.

I'm not sure how I feel about this now. I wanted the job for the money. I wanted it for the hours and the prospect of getting out of retail. But it's not a path I'd like to take, it's not me. I'm not numbers. I'm words. But the mounting number of rejections and the looming two year anniversary of my college graduation have me reeling. I'm digging myself deeper into the black hole that is a black mood and am having more and more trouble seeing the light.