Dear Diary... I Quit!

After my vacation... Nothing seemed any better at work. I was just as disillusioned, cynical, sick of it, as before, and more so. There was another incident with one of my supervisors... I think I have largely managed not to speak of those here, though I thought about it. Simply put, two of the supervisors I work under have repeatedly treated me and spoken to me with disrespect I am just not willing to put up with... From the tasks I am assigned to and when, to how they respond if ever I question anything they've done.

Not long before my vacation, for example, I got a face full of really bad attitude just for asking, and trying to do it politely, where my supervisor had been, as I had not managed to catch sight of her on the sales floor for the past twenty minutes. I am not claiming necessarily that she was not there; I focus on my work while I am working, and people can sometimes come and go without me noticing them, but there was a point when I was looking for her actively, to deal with something that required a supervisor, and could not find her. I got no answer, just assertions that she knew what she was doing, for my information. Of course, the problem was that I didn't. Know what she was doing, that is. Or where she could be found.

This example is on the extreme end, but archetypal. I have brought up my issues with management before... The result tended to be that some meeting was had, behavior improved for about two weeks, and then everything slowly returned to the way it had been, disrespect included.

This has not been the only problem I've had with my job, that's made me more and more irritable with work since last September, but it's one of the easiest ones to remember and brood over, and after the newest incident, which I will not detail here, I decided I had had too much already, and was not prepared to take any more.

So I came in on a day I was not working for a meeting with the management. I asked to be placed in the processing room instead of in sales, exclusively and as soon as possible. Several days later when the head manager was available to talk to me, she explained to me politely why she would be unable to transfer me exclusively as I had requested. And I responded by stating politely that I would like to officially resign from my position. I had a resignation letter penned, signed, dated and in her mailbox the same day.

I have worked two shifts since then. After all, it's legal imperative and good form to give two weeks notice before actually leaving. Those two days, I've had a lightness in my step and a glee in my heart. Several customers have commented on my excellent customer service, and one even bought me a coffee. I am very glad to be leaving.

Funnily enough, both of my problem supervisors reacted with shock when I told them I was quitting, and almost immediately asked, "But why?". I kept diplomatically silent or evasive. I'm escaping from my troubles there, no need to make a scene and make enemies. It's not as though it's a secret that I've had troubles with them, but my experiences have told me that they don't accept or listen to direct criticism, so it doesn't seem there's any point in confronting them. It would be a waste of my time and energy.

Instead, I've been fantasizing and dreaming in my head about business ideas I would love to bring to fruition, and how. I don't actually think about college itself that much yet; I'm sure I will as September gets closer. I hope I will keep dreaming and fantasizing and fleshing out my plans, though, up until college and all the way through it. My studies should teach me enough practical skills to get those dreams started. I will likely begin some of the early steps while I am schooling. I look forward to it, and again and again I repeat to myself how much more skilled and more competent I've become. I don't have to put up with disrespect or answer to bosses who won't answer to me. I could find a better place to work, but I think I'd rather make one. I am already reading books that should help me.

The plot is afoot.

How I Spent My (Sex) Vacation

Hello dear diary blog.

I am back at home now after two several-day trips out of town. The first was to go visit a girlfriend and her girlfriend in St. Thomas not far away from the city. The second was a trip out to Scarborough to visit another old friend that I had had sex with before, and had for some time considered that it would be nice to go visit and do it again.

Both trips were wonderful.

I watched a movie. I played games, including Three Dragon Ante, Therapy, Gloom, Spelunky, Chess, Scrabble and Squarez. I faced my deep feelings of alienation, and cried aloud and wept. I slept on couches. I slept on an extremely comfortable bed. I cuddled. I kissed. I hugged. I had sex of various kinds. I had orgasms. I gave someone else orgasms. I watched and shared funny YouTube videos. I cooked and shared delicious meals. I dreamed up a game system. I went out walking and almost got lost. I came back home wishing I had more time to spend with the excellent people I was with. Twice.

Then I came back and I had an appointment with my counselor. I played some games at The Cardboard Cafe with my boyfriend and my roommate, drank expensive but good tea, and ate expensive but good snack food. Now we need to focus on getting together our rental application for an apartment we really want to move into, and submitting it with attached rent deposit. There is much to do...

What's The Point, Then?

I went to see my doctor this morning. It was not exactly an effortless task to do so. I woke early, stumbled through my familiar stupor of exhaustion; for once a little more reasonable - I actually did not get a full night of sleep last night. I spent quite some time stomping around trying to find the four or five books I haven't read yet by my favorite author that a friend gave me at Christmas, and failed, so reluctantly chose something else. I pulled on my clothes, drank some juice and went out to wait for the bus.

I let the first one pass me by, purely because I didn't even realize that route went where I wanted to go and would have taken me there faster. But nevertheless, I caught the bus I expected to catch, arrived on time, signed in, was weighed, and the doctor saw me with little delay.

I told her about my troubles, my worryingly overemphasized exhaustion, here for the third time in as many months for a prolonged and inexplicable stay, and answered her questions. No, my mood doesn't seem to be particularly out of the ordinary, though it does suffer from the fatigue, as I have less patience when I am tired. My sleep has been more or less as it always is so far as I can tell, except that it doesn't satisfy me, and I need more than a regular full night of it not to feel exhausted when I wake. No, I haven't noticed any other symptoms of sickness, save that my muscles feel weaker and seem to heal slower, but that seems to be just a symptom of being overtired. My digestion is bad, but it always is. My back is sore, and seems to bother me with flashes of pain more often when I straighten up from crouching or bending, but that isn't new, just getting worse.

My iron levels, red blood cell count, and various other suspect factors were tested not even a month ago, and all came up normal. My fatigue does vaguely coincide with my menstrual cycle, but I have never suffered nor heard of PMS that made sleep stop working properly.

Her expression when I continued to ask if she could offer me any explanation that the evidence before us did not contradict bore a mix between concern and offense. She explained patronizingly that there was some concern about "over-investigation" and that she could not be expected just to prescribe some medication and send me on my way for every hardship. I did not appreciate the implication that I was just fishing for drugs or a miracle patch.

All the obvious answers having been exhausted, and physiotherapy being expensive for someone without employment medical coverage, she told me simply to keep doing the exercise I am putting a good deal of effort into doing already, but to do it more often, and dismissed me.

And here I thought that what doctors were good for aside from being the only people allowed to prescribe medication where it is needed, was knowing or having access to databases that would allow them to find out explanations for maladies beyond what is at this point common fucking sense.

Now my temper is smouldering like a coal, making the inside of my head uncomfortably hot and stuffy. My temper is worse when I am tired.