Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts

Thursday, January 17, 2013

Failure

Today was a really awful day.
First of all, I had somewhat of a mental breakdown at work.
It was not pretty.
image

I brought it upon myself.
It's just been like everything has been piling up and today it finally came crashing down.
I'm terrified of failing at this job.


Working at Hunts is really the only thing I've ever been good at.

I almost didn't graduate high school.
I've failed at every relationship but one (so far).
I've been a terrible friend in one way or another at some point.
I failed at trying to improve with my art.
I failed at pursuing photography.
I never went to college.
I couldn't even keep my child alive.

I've given up on so much because I feel as though I can never be good enough.


I don't want this to be just another thing I fail at.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Dumpster Baby?

I've been working at Accent for five months now. Now that I look back on it, Hunts seems ages away. I worked there for three years, yet the memories are so few and so distant even though I know I had tons while I was there. In memory, I want to post some of the memories that I do have. I'm not sure if these are so much for you or for me, but I want to write them out before I lose them for good. Obviously, they're not all going to come to me at once, so I will share them as I remember them.

The first memory I will share is this:
The Mystery in the Dumpster

I arrived at Hunts at 3:15, the same time as I did everyday. I always showed up 15 minutes before my shift started so that I could smoke a cigarette and get my apron on and my hair up in a ponytail. This particular day, I got out of the car and suddenly a putrid stench hit my nose as soon as I stepped out of the car at the end of the parking lot. I had never smelled anything so terrible.

As I got closer the building, the stench only grew worse and worse. When I got to the back door where the employees came in, the smell was unbearable. Since I came in at 3:30, I was the second shift. As I opened the door into the employee section, I was curious to hear if anyone had anything else to say about the stench coming from our dumpster. As it turns out, it was all anyone was talking about.

Apparently the owner had pulled out a black trash bag out of the grease pit that morning with something obviously dead inside of it. It was all bloated when he found it. He poked it with something or another and popped it, but also found that inside the trash bag was yet another trash bag.

Before he left, his orders were that no one was to call the police or dig the bag out of the dumpster because he didn't want the media attention if it was what we all believed it was: a dead child. 

All throughout work, we couldn't stop talking about it. What if it was a dead baby? Someone should be punished. Why would someone bother putting anything else in two bags and throwing it in our dumpster and not their own or one of some random apartment complex? It was all very fishy.

We were convinced that there was a dead child in that dumpster. None of us had ever smelled such a stench, and we had all been around that animal death smell before. We asked the manager multiple times throughout the day to let us find out what was in that dumpster after work, but she told us no each time. Those were the orders of the owner and she wasn't getting her ass busted for not listening to him.

The other two girls and I devised a plot. We all took plastic gloves that we generally used to make the banana splits and created a plan to solve this mystery once and for all. We were going to wait until everyone left and get the bag out of the dumpster. We were going to put the bag in the bed of her truck and take it over to the park to open and up and see what it was. The only problem with our plan was that if it were the dead child we believed that we would be moving evidence from the crime scene. We were prepared to do it none the less. We needed to know.

By the end of the work day, we were prepared to carry out our plan. Instead, our manager finally spoke up. She wanted to know about the mystery being in the dumpster and much as we did; she was just better at hiding it. She agreed to let us pull the bag out of the dumpster and check for ourselves.

We all did our end of the night business quicker than usual that night. Curiosity had consumed us all day and we wanted to get down to the answer. We finally finished mopping and headed outside.

Our manager came outside with us. Since I was the one who had the terrible sense of smell, (because of my septum piercing) I was put in charge of getting the bag and finding out what was inside. The dumpster was too tall. We found two crates: one for me to stand on and one to place the bag inside. I stood on the crate and pulled the bag out the dumpster. It was heavier than I had imagined it would be. More than likely this was because it had been soaking it grease all night from being mistakenly thrown into the grease pit.

I opened the first bag and the stench grew ten times stronger. Everyone winced and asked me what I saw. I saw nothing because there was still yet another bag. I was terrified of what I would see upon opening the second bag. I tore it just as I did the first.

The stench grew even more unbearable. Everyone was done and standing outside by this point. They wanted to know, too.

Inside the bag was not a child. It seemed to have fur, but not hair. I made sure to look well. Make sure that this was definitely an animal and not a child.

To this day, I am not sure what was in the bag, but I know it was not a child.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

That heart in your stomach feeling

I've got that heart in your stomach feeling.

You know the one I'm talking about, that sick to your stomach one. It happens when...

you're about to go in for an interview.
someone just almost totalled your car
the police sirens flip on behind you
you wake up the next morning after a bad break-up

I've got that feeling in my stomach. It's got one of two causes, or maybe it's just a combination of the two.


1. Work. I just got called into work. As of tomorrow, I'll officially have been working there a week. However, with it being fourth of July weekend, I didn't get a whole lot of training in. Mostly it was a crash course in "this is how you do this, now go do it." The last day I worked was Sunday and the was the first kind of chill day someone was actually able to tell me something. Tonight, however, I'm going in all alone. The only people that work alone are night shift people, but I'm not sure I'm completely prepared. I'm doing it because the person I'm covering for is going to the zoo with his wife and daughter tomorrow and he needs some sleep. I don't blame him, but I'm terrified. I really hope I don't screw this up, so a few good lucks and thumbs up would seriously help.

2. Charles. Gosh, I really really reallyxabout 6 zillion miss him. I'm starting to hide out now. I want to fall into my drawing and video games and blogging and just forget about the rest. This new job is sort of messing with my head because it's been so long since I've worked and my very lifeline is this. I miss Charles every day; it's so hard not to lose myself in thinking about him. I really don't know what I'll do if he's not out by the end of the year. It's been nearly 3 weeks now and it sucks so damn much.

I'm awake, you're still sleeping. The sun will rise like yesterday
Everything that we are now is everything we can't let go o
r its gone forever, far away
I hope tomorrow is like today. Don't you go away tomorrow.
I don't think I could handle that
You're probably dreaming that you're flying on then you start to fall
But then you rise and shine forever
Don't go away
I hope tomorrow is like today.
I posted these lyrics to Charles's facebook wall 12 days before he was arrested. I loved them then, but now they hold a whole new meaning. I'm so scared to lose everything we've worked so hard to get. I never thought we'd be seperated and get so lost in this mess. I have to wonder that if we had moved into the Monroe apartments if things would be anything like they are now. I'd like to imagine they would be so that I don't have to go through that whole "what if.." scenario, but I just can't bring myself to believe it.

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Letters

It's difficult not to write you every single day. The first week you were gone I struggled to find a way to find stamps and envelopes as cheap as possible. Stamps I had to pay for, but friends were happy to give me envelopes.

I wrote the first letter on a Sunday after I read the letter you got to me. I drove to the post office Monday morning to get stamps and send my letter. Monday night, I kept myself busy with friends. Tuesday, I still had more to say. I always have more to say to you. We never once ran out of words with eachother. Tuesday night I wrote my second letter. Wednesday, I walked my happy ass to the post office as soon as I woke up to send my letter to you. It was definitely worth it. It's Thursday now. I just worked a 9 hour shift (11:30pm to 6:30am) and I have to be back at 5:00pm. I'm staying up to write another letter to you to tell you how everything went.

I really want to find a "wish you were here" card, because I really really wish he was here.