Hit the Road Jack...

I have a new job. Prayer works. I heard about the job on Wednesday, applied Thursday, interviewed Friday and aced it. I am waiting for Monday and the call from HR to make it official. Same organization. I am transferring from the front office to our off-site back office. I am so at peace. You know it's time to quit, when you end up in the hospital with heart issues because you had to go to work. I want to be inspired, excited to go to work again! I feel loss at leaving my bestie coworker, who jokingly called me 'bitch' when I told her I applied for another job. 

Things I will NOT miss: 

Jurassic Park. The Divasaurus. High maintenance passive aggressive coworker with authority over me. 

Slacker Coworker. In every workplace, there is always that one person who doesn't pull her weight. I am tired of fixing her mistakes, of doing her work because she can't be bothered, her using my brain because two years later she still does not know her job, and her bipolar moodiness. 

A Toxic Workplace. 

In her book, Toxic Work, Barbara Bailey Reinhold, Ed.D. describes ways an unhealthy environment affects your psychological and physical health. According to Reinhold, a toxic workplace is “when the demands of your job, and your response to them undercut the quality of your family life and friendships, you are robbed of the very things you need in order to be fully alive and most creative and productive on the job.” My health has suffered along with my attitude. That is why I got wrote up recently.

My Stalker. There is a coworker, male, from another department who is all together too friendly, touchy and possessive. I have attempted to alert management and it worked for awhile, but he is persistent. I put up with it because he is in a position to do me some harm.

Bonnie and Clyde. The coworker who put me in the hospital... oh wait, I didn't tell you about that, did I? I am still not sure what sparked it. But I set Bonnie off somehow, next thing I know her voice is raised and she is yelling incomprehensible things. Let me start at the beginning...

Once upon a time, there was a hard working servant girl. She was very intelligent and did most everything right. The King and Queen were happy to have her in the castle. There was also a slacker servant girl.

The hard working servant girl would point out to the slacker girl where she missed a cobweb or left soap bubbles on the floor. The slacker girl grumbled because she did not appreciate doing the best job she could for the King and Queen. She plotted ways to get back at the hard working servant girl.

One day, the slacker servant said Princess Bonnie needed the hard working servant girl to do something for her. The hard working servant girl was puzzled because Princess Bonnie always gave her directions in person. She went to Princess Bonnie and requested that Princess Bonnie not send the slacker servant girl, but please speak to the hard working servant girl in person.

Suddenly, the air took on an eerie glow. A cold wind began to blow and Princess Bonnie transformed into a wicked witch who hurled curses at the hard working servant. The hard working servant girl backed away, fearful, attempting to speak words that would send the witch away. The King heard the commotion and when he arrived the witch fled. All too late. The curses began to work on the hard working servant girl and her heart began to break. 

I ended up in the emergency room with chest pains. I was kept overnight hooked to telemetry. I have since followed up with a cardiologist, had an echocardiogram, a stress test, a sleep study, seen my primary physician a couple of times, and a counselor. Most of those bills will be written off due to my employment, but not all. The hospitalization was $8,500 (luckily wrote off). Management has done nothing I know of. Not one word from Bonnie since. She walks past me as if I am invisible. It has escalated to include Clyde. They are attempting to mob me with intimidation and isolation. 

ODAS. The four most hated words in the English language—Other Duties As Assigned. I now have one job to do. I will be the only one to do this work. I go into my space, do my job, and take my paycheck home. Heavenly...

 

Contemplation on the Edge of Time

 
Tomorrow. I had a child out of wedlock. My parents made me (Then) give her up for adoption. The me (Now) would have not gone along so acquiescently. I remember avoiding the nursery since I knew she was not mine (Then). She was (Now). A few times I attempted to guess in which of the bassinets along the wall she lay. She started life in the back of the class. I should have asked to see her. She was of me, from me. Could-a, would-a, should-a.

The dilemma? I want to start a search. Unfortunately, the adoption was arranged in a 'closed records' state. I put contact info in her file years ago, but no strangers have knocked on the door. She is 37. Old enough to have unanswered questions. Maybe no one told her. What then?

As I have mentioned other times, I have poor memory. Perhaps it is a consequence of the fibromyalgia I struggle with most days. Perhaps it is a blessing from above to wake unhindered from past mistakes, regrets, and sorrows.

"Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door.  --Saul Bellow

Ah-OOO ooo oooo oo. I can hear them howling. Insignificance panting on the horizon. Poor memory made me struggle to remember the birth father's name, a boyfriend my junior year of high school. After a few hours of Internet searching, I found him. Facebook. Duh. He recently moved back to the scene of the crime. Also opened that Facebook account. Serendipity. So what now? Do I contact him? To what end? I am searching my motive. Time enough in the tomorrows.

Today. The spouse had the follow up appointment for his edema. We never got the results. His complaints started shortly after we arrived. The customary bitching about the appointment time is merely a suggestion for the doctor. Okay. I agreed, but that is reality. It was bla-bla-bitch all the time in the examining room. After two hours he said outta here and off we go. On the ride home, he says he better not be charged for this visit. Like it is my job to fix that! He did wonder if I would have any repercussions from his actions. Nope, I am not the one acting like an ass. My coworkers know my character. It did amuse me when he ranted the doctor could now call him at home with the results. If only...

Yesterday. I miss waking daily to see my daughter and grandboy. My trip east was restorative. I felt real. I returned to the facade. I want to be there, not here. *Howl*