I think the person who takes a job in order to live - that is to say,
for the money - has turned himself into a slave.
If the Shoe Fits & Shit
Still
Summer 2010
Okay, so I use to hate
going to work because of the VP of Advertising, now I hate to go to work
because of a 4-year-old. Yes my friends….times are tough and as my friend Kitty
would say, “Be lucky we have ‘em my Betty.” What she is referring to is some
sort of income and I whole-heartedly agree, but I question when is it okay to
say UNCLE? I mean how much longer
does this insanity have to go on??????
I was as the new PC terms
says “let go” because of financial restructuring and that may just be so, but
the real truth of the manner was I was at the top of that list because I didn’t
kiss ass, mainly the ass of a-she-wish-she-was-devil-wearing-Prada nasty dirty
blond. And now I’m kissing the ass of
a-wish-she-wasn’t-wearing-carters-recently potty -trained fair-haired blond.
Seems my old Ferragamo pump wearing boss and my new Stride Rite Mary Jane
wearing boss could be one and the same.
Back to that dirty-blond
Cruella Deville old boss, who had one lazy wandering eye, that seemed to be
more centered in the middle of her caved-in forehead reminding me of Cyclops.
This one-eyed monster gave me no guidance, no direction and seemed to possess
not a trace of compassion; she just left me out there with her pack of wolves
(who I will kindly refer to as Fatty and The Fetus) to fend for myself without
a GPS in sight……but I digress and…..
sometimes we lose our
course for a reason, to find a new path, and surrender over to a higher power.
Of course this was the best thing that could have happened to me, but it’s hard
to swallow when you have a mortgage, hounds, bills and chardonnay to pay.
Truth be told, “Corporate
America” was slowly sucking the life out of me and gnawing away at my spirit.
Not to mention the “secretarial spread” that was occurring around my thighs and
mid-section from too many company lunches and spending time around the water
cooler with co-workers (not Fatty and The Fetus of course….we hate them!)
complaining about everything while stuffing any and every possible sugar coated
snack that was floating around the kitchen into my mouth…..again I
digress…..back to nannyland.
If only I had a time
machine I would see where these two “bosses” were separated at birth. I
suddenly hear my fathers voice in my head, as I’ve done a million times over
and over…. “The issue will continue to present itself to you until you deal
with it” and “You can pack your bags, but where ever you go, you take yourself
with you.” Did I not deal with the first bitch properly and now it’s coming to
bite me in the ass, by a precious pre-schooler? And I mean literally bite, as
I’ve had to surgically remove her teeth from my flesh many-a-time.
To protect the innocent
and lets face it folks, that would be me, we will give this child a sudo
name…..what was the name of the little girl in THE BAD SEED? Let me Google
it….Rhoda was her name. Times being what they are and the gargantuan amount of
resumes flooding the market, a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do. With no
job opportunities in my field (and were still not sure exactly what that is) or
in sight for that matter and my savings account slowly empting out. I changed
course and looked at who was hiring in this quant New England town and there
seemed to be an influx of jobs in the childcare category. I was working part
time in a daycare center so I thought hey this will be a piece of cake. I mean
what a great escape from the bores of office politics, not having to one-up
your co-workers with your wardrobe changes, not being sucked into the vortex of
a teeny-tiny cubical and pretty much being on your own schedule. I mean what a
great way to spend your day using your imagination, drawing, playing and
daydreaming away your day, reliving your childhood or recreating yours as in my
case, if you didn’t like the way things panned out. I MEAN how difficult or
challenging could it possibly be?????? Boy oh Boy…..was I wrong.
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