Not for the faint of heart

Warning: I am totally exhausted while writing this.


My job is beginning to take its toll on me. Actually, my life is beginning to take a toll. I recognise that all things going on in my life right now are at least partially my fault, but I can share the blame on a few things.

Mostly, I am just really fucking tired of my best not being good enough. I feel like everything in my life is suffering in some way, and I am powerless to stop it--that things would be better if I could just do better, but I can't. And then I start to feel guilty, because I should be able to. Can't shouldn't be an option.

For instance.

My house is a disaster. Not 'white trash' disaster, with beercan towers and dogshit on the floor, but laundry piled up, both clean and dirty, the garbage needs to go out, the floor needs to be vacuumed and mopped, so on. It's a mess.

I don't have time to clean it effectively. I work so many fucking hours that I come home exhausted and sleep late (I don't really sleep well until my father gets up in the morning, because I wake up and check on him about 385773 times a night which he would kill me if he knew) and then either dash back out the door to work or dash out to take dad to a doctors appt, dyalisis or something else. Barring that, Im dashing out to take the car to the shop, go to the grocery store, get prescriptions filled, what have you.

Then it's back to sleep, to get up and dash all over again.

I feel guilty because I should schedule my time more wisely. I should get up earlier, do chores, then dash. I should drop dad off at dyalisis, then shop and clean. Instead, Im at work or sleeping.

At work, I have fallen victim to one of the great plunders--Letting it be known that you have a good work ethic--and am being exploited. Those under me that don't have such a great work ethic do as little as possible because they know I will do it, and those above me schedule me to work rediculous hours because they know I will do it.

Aside: There is more to my job than hauling food. That's the easiest part, actually, and the part where you make extra money. The puppies (newbies) recognise this, and will take more tables than they can handle (so the service sucks) and do nothing in the way of side work so they can get the tips. This means that I spend my time NOT making extra money by taking tables, but by washing dishes, rolling silverware, stocking and running interference with the now angry customers who had substandard service. And no one tips me out for doing their share of the side work.

And I don't have the authority to make anyone stop doing this.

I have shared this with the people that do, of course. But they are also being exploited. I got into something of an argument with one of the girls at work over this. I tended bar one night with the pretense of being tipped out as the bartender is supposed to be--and when it came time for that, she said to me "I made all my own drinks on purpose. I'm not tipping you anything.". This was 1)total bullshit and 2)wildy unfair, but I didn't have the energy or authority to do anything. I tended bar for 5 hours and made 20 dollars--I could have (if tipped out by anyone other than my floor captian) made more than 5 times that much, or if I had refused to bartend, made more still. Last time I worked, I was in a position to be tending bar again. I refused. The same girl that refused to tip me because she "did it all herself" came downstairs and got all over my shit for not making her drinks--I looked her straight in the face and said,
"You can handle it. You did last time." to which she responded,

"But its your job." To which I responded,

"Jobs are something you're paid for. I didn't get paid last time, I'm not going to this time--Do it yourself. If you can't handle your tables and making drinks for them, do something different."

She stomped off and accused me of stealing money from her, but that's neither here nor there.

Where was I?

Anyway, all of my time is swallowed by work or dad. Dad gets on me about the house not being clean enough, about not getting the cars fixed, about sleeping too much and not cooking. Work gets on me for not doing everyones share, and needing Fridays off. I feel guilty because I never see my friends, or if I do its for an hour between running here or there, and I miss them and know they miss me, and I feel like I should do better. My sisters get on me for not doing enough for dad, for taking a week to go to California in September and needing their help. Everything in my life is stretched too thin and its all suffering. I take a break now and again--have drinks here, go to a concert there, but its always bathed in guilt. I am going to a concert on Sunday--I really am excited about it, and may be able to redeem myself for punching F in the chest--but am terrified to leave dad all day. I want to be able to go early, have lunch with my friends, see a movie, then have an early dinner with T's family and then go to the show and have drinks afterwards, maybe stay over.....but what will really happen is nothing like that. It will be punctuated by frantic phone calls, scheduling and so on. And I feel bad.

I feel bad for not being as fun as I used to be. For making my friends feel like they aren't important when they are. For leaving dad alone all day, for being on the phone when I should be redeeming myself to the lovely and bruised family members I may never see again.

If I'm at work, I feel guilty for not being at home. When I'm at home, I feel guilty for not being at work. If I'm not at work or at home, I feel guilty for not cleaning my house.

All I want to do is make dad sign those fucking papers to get the home health care people to come, and I can't. I want to sleep for 48 hours. I want to have fun without feeling bad.

I need to go to bed--I have to work a 16 hour day tomorrow.