2001-11-01 - 2:30 p.m.
Morbid thoughts and carrots and yet more hating of the job
So I feel worse today than I did the past two days, but I came into work anyway because there's work to be done, and I don't want to get fired.
This was a bad idea. Being fired would have been preferable to this day.
I'm going to tell a funny story now, in the hopes that it'll offset all the bitching I'm about to do.
So just a minute ago, I was sitting here at my desk, munching on carrot sticks. While I had a half-chewed piece of carrot in my mouth, I sneezed. I felt it coming and desperately reached for a kleenex. I got it up close to my mouth, but not quite covering it. The upshot is that a veritable cascade of chewed up bits of carrots came flying out of my mouth. The covered my glasses, and got in my hair. They covered my keyboard, and I think some cleared the desk and hit the floor. I think one or two even shot up my nose.
Really, it must have been hilarious. I just couldn't muster the energy to laugh.
So, once again last night, once the sun went down, the morbid in me took control and I managed to convince myself that I have inhalation anthrax and that I'm going to die. I actually started making morbid little lists in my head.
If I had two days to live, what would I want to write down? Who would I write to? What would I say? What deep, dark secrets or hidden infatuations would I confess? Who would I like to apologize to? Who would I like to thank?
Would my family be able to clean up the mess that is my life? What would they do about the disaster area that is my closet? Which of my friends would end up with my guitar? Would anyone find all my old stories and letters, read them, like them?
Biggest of all, if this were to be my last week on earth, would I be happy about how I'd spent it? Could I look at what I accomplished, read, watched, ate in this past week and think to myself "Yeah, I lived. I lived a good life, and it's okay."
Big ole Nope on that last one, kids.
In particular, the job is for sucks. I hate my job. Nothing new there. No great revelation.
Exacerbated today by the general shitheadedness of my co-workers today. Very first thing in the morning, RadioVoiceBossMan comes to check my progress. Since he checked my progress Monday night, and I was sick for two days, and I was still wading through email, my progress was exactly squat. This concerned him. We have some high muckety-muck coming next Tuesday and I have to demonstrate my sub-system for him. RVBM is worried I won't be ready (I *know* I won't be ready, so I'm not worrying). His solution is to check my progress more often. Like tonight, tomorrow morning, tomorrow night, Monday morning...you get the picture.
Why is it that more frequent progress reports are supposed to increase my productivity? All they do is waste more of my time. (Not that I'm being productive right now, but I'll be staying late tonight, so I figure I can use my time as I please.)
I hatehatehatehate my job. I should have stayed in bed. I feel like a human-sized pile of warmed-over dog shit. Does anyone ask how I'm doing (well, they did ask, they just didn't care to listen to the answer)? This place feels heartless today. Nothing matters but the success of the project.
If you ask me, even if the project succeeds, it doesn't matter.
Which, really is my point. That this job continues to not matter to me in a rather colossal fashion.
And I'm wasting my life coming here every day.
I wish I had the nerve to just up and quit.
What's the upshot of all of this?
1. I need to clean my closet. I don't want that to be a hassle for my family if I up and kick the bucket. Someone I respect once said "Closure is clean closets". The simplest things are the most true.
2. I need to find a different job. I need to stop procrastinating, and charge out of my comfort zone, and get it ferchrissake figured out.
3. Carrots are funny.