The End of an Era:
(Well, if 7 months can be considered an era, that is. ) Today is my last day as a trained monkey.
Tomorrow I begin my new duties. I'm not sure what kind of punnific/animal nickname I'll use yet, stay tuned.
I Miss Working with Children:
Seriously, if you are almost 40 years old and you are telling my supervisor that you are doing your job wrong because I told you to do it that way? Even after he has pointed out (after asking me about them) my instructions in a handy-dandy cheat sheet and chart? (Hello, I was a teacher.) You can kiss my ass. If you were 12 you'd get, not only a stern look and talking to from me, but a cruising down to the principal's office and maybe a detention, and if I really didn't like you? I'd call in your parents. Why don't we have that in the workplace? Right, cuz we figure people would have GROWN UP by the time they're, well, GROWN UPS. Silly, silly me.
Applying What I've Learned:
One thing I had no idea would be a super-useful rule in life that I got from teaching? NEVER get into an argument with a child. Once you go down that road, you've already lost. I've taken to applying that rule to all the 'kids' in adult bodies I interact with. I can actually feel my blood pressure dropping when I remember, realize, and act on that rule (it's all about follow-through) and just closing my eyes, taking a deep breath, and walking away. (And then ranting about it to my supervisor and Andy, poor guys.)
People Like Me in Places Like This:
Okay, I thought that might be a song lyric but, sigh, google has failed me. I can almost hear the Pet Shop Boys singing/speaking it, but then again, I also tend to play the Pet Shop Boys in my head to tune out some of the above referred to individuals...(Dusty Springfield cutting in, "Since you went away-yay, I've been hangin' around, I been wonderin' why, I'm fee-lin' down!") Sorry, aaaauuuummmm. Hum "The Girl from Iponema" if I've gotten the tune stuck in your head.
Where was I? Right...
The Janitor's Daughter:
That's the feeling I get when I'm in a vulnerable social situation. Like say the lunch room? Or the copy room? Maybe even the mail room? It's more to do with my state of mind than anything. This has not been a good week for my state of mind. Yes, I know it is only Wednesday and I haven't even started today. Monday was the worst. I spent too much money on myself over the weekend. I'd met Andy for lunch on Sunday by walking into Fremont (it's my new favorite sport). There was the Fremont Sunday Market and a necklace with amber, and silver, and if the sun ever comes out maybe I'll get a picture...and it was way too much but I still had birthday money saved up...as well as a necklace fund (I know, I'm weird, I do indeed save up for a new piece of jewelry...once every 5 years or so...).
So I wore it on Monday. It is more girlie and delicate than any accessory I have ever used and definitely (due to its length) only goes with v-neck blouses.
No one said anything about it. It might be a style/taste thing, I get that. If you can't say anything nice, and all that...but in my head the inner comments went something like: "What is she doing wearing that!" "Who is she to wear that!" "Who does she think she is! Doesn't she realize she's a janitor's daughter!"
I swear, there should be a support group, "Children of Custodial Arts Workers." I'd so join.
Okay, work calls.