Category Archives: Work

It Was Beginning to Look a lot Like Unemployment

Holy Bejeebus, it’s been a rough few months. There was the wedding and finally being able to relax a little bit, but of course life kicks you right in the lady balls when you least expect. Darrick’s grandmother passed away right as I was transferred into a different department at work and he developed a sore in his foot (one of the most dangerous things for a diabetic) right within a few days’ span. When he finally notice something was wrong, he already had angry red spikes going almost up to his knee.

Darrick spent a few days in the hospital getting pumped full of antibiotics and wearing special leg booties that squeezed at intervals to encourage increased blood flow, then was released just in time for trick or treat. He’s been put off of work ever since because he can’t stand eight hours on an open wound.

Finances have been tight, but we are making it thus far. Unfortunately, being transfered at work for me was incredibly hard on me. A few months back they had asked me if I would be interested, but I wasn’t. Shipping is easily one of the most stressful areas of the place and will eat your life if you let it. I didn’t want to work all of those hours! Not with my two young girls. But then they cut my materials planning job, so it was either make the move or be without a job for the holidays.

And when you put it that way…

But oh, it’s been rough. You’re thrown in the fire and trying to figure it out. Every customer wants shipments made in a particular way with particular paperwork done and sometimes sent to particular people. Don’t get me started on overseas shipments! The whole department was dropping balls left and right while we juggled around each other trying to figure out our places. I was so stressed I had trouble eating and sleeping and just existed in a state of anxious, balled-up nerves, only to be told I should know more and be better at my job.

I almost walked out twice. The only thing that kept me there was being the only working parent at this time, and even then it was a close call. Darrick actually sat me down one night and told me how this job was affecting our family. My four-year-old said I never come home before bedtime, I would snap at my ten-year-old to the point she felt lile she couldn’t talk to me, and I didn’t laugh or make jokes anymore. All I would do is come home, eat, and go to sleep.

I refuse to be that person anymore. Family is my number one priority. I’ll work in McDonald’s 50 hours if I have to if it means we’re happier. I don’t care.

It flipped a switch for me, really. I had been so terrified of doing something wrong at work that I was afraid to do anything at all. So I just dove in. I restructured my tasks throughout the day and I’m leaving as close to my 8 hours as possible now. I’m doing my best, and if it isn’t good enough, then that should tell them something because I am not a slacker and everyone around there knows that. I’ve never been one to shy away from difficult or overwhelming tasks, which is why I tend to get the crappier jobs no one has previously done correctly. Sucks for me, but ok.

Since I’ve made the changes in my attitude and restructured things, it seems to be doing a lot better. I hope it stays that way! 

L is for Look, An Idiot

I love to make people laugh. It’s just how I’m wired; it must be the Sagitarius nature.Today, the new materials planner at work came over to my square of the plant floor.

I think he was sorry.

I happened to be speaking to the receiving coordinator at the time, and he joined in our conversation. At one point he said, “I’m quick!” and we both heard, “I quit.”

The receiving coordinator freaks out and the poor guy immediately backtracks to correct our impression. Then he gets to joking around and says, “What would I do with my three kids?”

I chip in with “Well, you eat them.”

He looks at me aghast. I have to continue.

“That way, you can survive longer since you have no money for food, and you don’t have to worry about feeding them or what they’re doing.”

Probably not the right thing to say, but boy was his face hilarious.

D is for Door. Mostly Because I Just Walked Into One.

We have a lot of automatic doors at my workplace. Usually, it isn’t a problem. They’re actually entertaining. The sensor doesn’t see you if you come at it from an angle and it’s funny to watch people wave and jump to get its attention. Occasionally people walk into it because they don’t realize the doors didn’t open. One day when I came in, a big panel was missing off of one – turns out someone had hit it with the forks on a hilo because…idiots? I dunno. I’m sorry I missed that one.

But I’ve never had a door start to open and then just stop until today. I had ny head turned talking to a lady driving the tugger cart and damned if I didn’t slam into it with my left boob. She dies laughing and actually has to stop the tugger before she accidently hits someone, I’m hopping around hanging onto my very sore and angry lady bit, and I realize that’s going to leave a bruise.

Well, shit. How am I going to explain that one?

Because while I didn’t mind being the butt of a joke because of my ability to hurt myself in strange and often inexplicable ways, I do occasionally like to be taken seriously by my fiance and I’m not sure he can do that if he finds out I walked into a door that automatically opens…even if it wasn’t my fault.

Stupid door.

Maybe I’ll just tell him a stray llama bit me. That’s believable, right?

Yo Ho, Yo Ho, the Office Life for Me (Sorta)

The household purge has been put on hold. Why? Because I think my job is trying to kill me.

Don’t get me wrong, I actually enjoy my job and I’m good at it when people leave me alone long enough to actually do it. Unfortunately, this week our company has auditors in specifically to check out my processes, and I feel wholly unprepared for the whole experience. While I did create myself a job there, I feel overwhelmed by the amount of work that needs done and all I need to know to get it done right. And now I have people watching over my shoulder and asking me questions I feel like I should be able to answer without hesitation. Oh well.

All I can do is my best, and I try to shine every chance I get.

I must be doing something right since they decided to keep me.