Random Life As I Know It

Day 16: I’m *This* Close!

Random picture of a funny dog, just because

Like I mentioned in my post yesterday, I was really mad about work, of all things. What a waste of a day.

But I’m over it.  Really. I did not go to work today. I slept in until noon and I intend to be in my pajamas all day.

I actually like my job, a lot.  I’ve been at this particular place for over 6 years now and it feels like home to me. But that’s exactly the part that makes me dislike my job.  I’m still working there.

Years ago I had gone to college straight out of high school, went two years, started dating my husband somewhere during that time, and then came to a crossroads of sorts.  So I quit college and went to a vocational school, which got me a job that paid very little, relatively speaking. Then I got married and had children.

When daycare got too expensive, one of us had to quit and because I was the lower wage earner it made sense that it would be me.  I was a stay at home mother for 6 years.  Then I had a major cancer scare, which resulted in a plethora of medical bills. Suddenly I needed to go back to work.

For 3 years I worked third shift as a cashier at a grocery store. I slept in fragments, missed out on a lot of family events, and basically can’t remember much of those three years because I was in a deep fog from the lack of sleep and the depression that was amplified by that.

And the job I had? Paid for my medical bills, and also paid for my husband’s obsession with bowling tournaments.  I hardly slept, he had fun.

(And he wondered why the house was a mess all the time.)

Which is why, among other reasons, I…

Then got a divorce, and moved to working day shifts.  I got promoted to being a customer service manager, and was working pretty much every night and every weekend.  So a year or so ago I transferred to the pharmacy, where I have better work hours, better pay, and feel like I am doing more “professional” work.

But I am still working at this place, and I hate it.

These are the specific reasons why I do not like my job:

  • The pay sucks. It is not a “livable” wage.
  • I wear a uniform.  I just spent $40 on shoes yesterday to be in compliance with a “uniform code.”
  • I’m just a peon; or maybe more appropriately a “pee-on.”
  • At this particular place, I will never be able to advance further than the position I am already at.
  • But most importantly, it is not my life’s work, and I know that.

Here’s a fact: Every job I have ever had in my life has fit the above description.  I’m doing the exact same job I was doing when I was 22.  That bugs me.


I have life experience. Lots of it.  I doubt if I can legitimately add this to my resume, but in my mind, it counts. It counts because all of the above things that I just mentioned brought me exactly to the point that I am at today.

And everything that has happened to me in the past 20 years has helped me realize what I know I was born to do.  I believe that this is true of everyone: we are all put on this earth for something. It’s up to us to figure out what that something is.

So while I am still working a job that I could have done and actually did 20 years ago, I know that this is not permanent, or my destiny.

Years ago when I was working at what I call my “technical” job (working as the scheduling coordinator for a medical clinic); my then boss once told me that I was way too “smart” for the job I was doing.  Mind you, I was good at my job. But even she saw that I was capable of doing better, greater things. When I quit, she told me the door would always be open for my return.  But I know she hoped that I would never walk through that door again (in the most sincerest of ways, of course).

I never walked back through that door.  After my divorce when I was contemplating what to do, I thought about going back and talking to her about getting a job there again. I decided instead to go to college so I could eventually do something I actually wanted to do for a change.

She was right. I know I am capable of greater, better things in my life.

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