I don't feel like writing everyday. I don't want cry to my readers everytime the GM farts in my general direction. I don't want to be a whiny-ass.
I also don't like talking about things I would rather forget. Things that make me feel like I am a putz, or go on and on about how stupid I have let my life become, or how I have got this far in life without learning basic adult lessons. But, like driving slowly by an accident, I can't look away, no matter how bloody and horrible it is. Blogging my head-on collision of a job makes that non-specific feeling of dread melt away overnight.
So, here goes...
Everyone takes turns coming in early on different days and working weekends. This makes up for the strange off days we get off during the week and just the flexibility of a non-nine-to-five job.
On my early day recently, I got some shocking news. One of the veteran guys that helped train me in my first days here gave me a warning for the day ahead. The day before, I had left early. One of my trades went incredibly wrong, and it was totally my fault. There were some other people at fault, but I did not follow policy, I got in a hurry, and I think I lost the company a little more than a thousand dollars.
Normally, when I have made a mistake like this, I have been able to find a way to make it not my fault, or find a way to weasel out of it. But not this time. Not only that, but I messed up a trade for a customer that cries bloody murder any time his portfolio loses half a point of value. Now, I find out that I screwed up his great trade beyond all recognition.
The early warning from my friend was a good thing. Forewarned is forearmed. When my boss called me on the mistake, I was not shocked or floored. They could not catch me with my pants down, I had already taken them off, and was walking around in my boxers for everyone to see.
"Yeah, I saw that when I checked out my trades from yesterday. I can't believe I did that. There's no excuse for that. Is there anything I can do to help us recover from this?"
Larry looked up at me with a strange expression on his face. I think he was a little annoyed he couldn't yell at me, but he also knew there was nothing more he could do. "No...The GM will take this over. Go back to your desk..."
The rest of the day, he was exceptionally polite. He became very "professional", which is very unlike him. I kept waiting to be called in the office again, or get a written warning. It never happened. To receive nothing when you expect the world to drop on you is actually scarier than what you expected.
I walked by Larry's desk when he wasn't sitting there and saw a paper of some kind with my name on it. It was a memo, or report. I think he had to write to corporate to explain why we were paying back a big refund. I couldn't stay long enough to read it and had to keep walking.
Besides that stupid feeling of paranoia,(which is not without merit), part of me is scared I will lose my job. I know, no big loss. But my plan to leave here and never come back is not complete yet. Besides messing up my plans, just the idea that I would lose another job based on performance tears me up inside. I don't know if I have the strength to keep my sense of self intact if I can't make this work. Yes, I could go on and on explaining why I'm not meant for a "production job", why I'm destined for better things. But that's only partly true, the rest is self-justifying bullshit. Anytime you lose a job, it is still a ball-busting,ego-slap-down no matter if the job sucks or not.
In some ways, it feels good to be able to tell someone that I'm both scared that I could lose this dung-pit of a job that I have spent nine months complaining about, and disgusted with myself for being such a putz. Being human is like that though, we are a big ball of contradictions and weaknesses trying to either triumph over adversity or justify ourselves into a state of numb self-ignorance.
Oh yeah...That feels a little better.
Thanks for reading,
Purgatory: A place of suffering and torment with an unknown duration. In Roman Catholic Theology-the place where the dead are purified from their sins.
By Rage Against The Machine