Ah, Labor day. The day where we work our tails off in complete irony. Today was supposed to be my day off, but just as there is no such thing as vacation during a holiday weekend, there is no such thing as a weekend off during a three day weekend. For years I worked a flex schedule and never questioned the significance of not having a weekend. Saturday held no greater importance than Tuesday in my retail/ server mode of thinking.
For the last few years I've worked Monday through Friday and enjoyed the same thing as the rest of the world. Friday night football games, mowing the lawn on Saturdays, sleeping in on Sundays. I wouldn't trade it for the world. One of my managers suggested I go back to a flex schedule and I'm very proud I kept a straight face and didn't tell her to go to hell. Once you give a person a taste of freedom, (or in my case feeling like a human being.) you can't make them go back. Well, you can force somebody to do that, but historically it's a bad idea. Revolts and revolutions have started for less.
Today was supposed to be my day off, but hold up there cowboy, everybody works today. Especially when a truckload of appliances comes in. Not for nothing, but it was my third truck this week. The belts they give us leave a lot to be desired. The only reason I haven't gotten a hernia yet is because I change them out often. My back is still messed up and my fingers are falling asleep typing this post. Just a reminder to keep looking for a better job.
After we took care of the truck (we're good at unloading it, but we still hate to do it more than once a week.) we went where ever there was work to be done. Paint this. Mop that. Carry, pull, push. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Then the epiphany hit me. The realization a cashier ten or fifteen years my junior, was ordering me around like I was her servant. A few people treat me as an equal there. They work with me or have a conversation and realize: hey, this guy is okay. Still, for every one person I impress, there are three who think less of me. I haven't lost any sleep over that, but one more reason to get out.
Here's the problem: I've tasted freedom and seen how other people live. Is it any wonder I'm having difficulty going back into the tiny mind set?
Why do I stay? The powers that be want money and this is the quickest way to pay them off. We recently had a meeting with Social Insecurity and it may lead to a reduction in the debt I owe. I'm not going to apologize for feeding my family or keeping a roof over our heads. Still 300 bucks a month goes back to da guberment. That money may not mean a lot to others, but I could make a lot of stuff happen with that amount of cash.
I may be working in retail purgatory, but it could be worse. And perhaps, just perhaps, there is a part of me that wishes to pay the government back for keeping me alive and my family together. Still, if it's a few years off my sentence (penalty box?), I'm going to take it.
I suppose this is why I'm brewing and writing, because I can't keep going on being in the herd. Friends of mine have had heart attacks and seizures and they can only find work in the big box stores. What's wrong with this picture? The current economic mindset is killing our brightest minds.
Later in the month there will be a mead festival in Gruene, Texas. Right next to where family and friends vacationed a few months ago. The wife and I will be going. I want to network with these folks and see what there is to see. Pieces are falling into place.
A chef who could design a menu around what I brew.
Friends who know about the restaurant industry along with my knowledge and experience.
A computer savvy person to help design the infrastructure.
And finally, a location where I can produce and sell what I brew.
I'm thinking a tea room brunch style place. Mead and sandwiches sort of stuff.
The kids may not care about what I'm making, but I'm refining recipes people like. Perhaps there is a way for this to become profitable.
If you're not the lead dog, the view never changes.
For the last few years I've worked Monday through Friday and enjoyed the same thing as the rest of the world. Friday night football games, mowing the lawn on Saturdays, sleeping in on Sundays. I wouldn't trade it for the world. One of my managers suggested I go back to a flex schedule and I'm very proud I kept a straight face and didn't tell her to go to hell. Once you give a person a taste of freedom, (or in my case feeling like a human being.) you can't make them go back. Well, you can force somebody to do that, but historically it's a bad idea. Revolts and revolutions have started for less.
Today was supposed to be my day off, but hold up there cowboy, everybody works today. Especially when a truckload of appliances comes in. Not for nothing, but it was my third truck this week. The belts they give us leave a lot to be desired. The only reason I haven't gotten a hernia yet is because I change them out often. My back is still messed up and my fingers are falling asleep typing this post. Just a reminder to keep looking for a better job.
After we took care of the truck (we're good at unloading it, but we still hate to do it more than once a week.) we went where ever there was work to be done. Paint this. Mop that. Carry, pull, push. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Then the epiphany hit me. The realization a cashier ten or fifteen years my junior, was ordering me around like I was her servant. A few people treat me as an equal there. They work with me or have a conversation and realize: hey, this guy is okay. Still, for every one person I impress, there are three who think less of me. I haven't lost any sleep over that, but one more reason to get out.
Here's the problem: I've tasted freedom and seen how other people live. Is it any wonder I'm having difficulty going back into the tiny mind set?
Why do I stay? The powers that be want money and this is the quickest way to pay them off. We recently had a meeting with Social Insecurity and it may lead to a reduction in the debt I owe. I'm not going to apologize for feeding my family or keeping a roof over our heads. Still 300 bucks a month goes back to da guberment. That money may not mean a lot to others, but I could make a lot of stuff happen with that amount of cash.
I may be working in retail purgatory, but it could be worse. And perhaps, just perhaps, there is a part of me that wishes to pay the government back for keeping me alive and my family together. Still, if it's a few years off my sentence (penalty box?), I'm going to take it.
I suppose this is why I'm brewing and writing, because I can't keep going on being in the herd. Friends of mine have had heart attacks and seizures and they can only find work in the big box stores. What's wrong with this picture? The current economic mindset is killing our brightest minds.
Later in the month there will be a mead festival in Gruene, Texas. Right next to where family and friends vacationed a few months ago. The wife and I will be going. I want to network with these folks and see what there is to see. Pieces are falling into place.
A chef who could design a menu around what I brew.
Friends who know about the restaurant industry along with my knowledge and experience.
A computer savvy person to help design the infrastructure.
And finally, a location where I can produce and sell what I brew.
I'm thinking a tea room brunch style place. Mead and sandwiches sort of stuff.
The kids may not care about what I'm making, but I'm refining recipes people like. Perhaps there is a way for this to become profitable.
If you're not the lead dog, the view never changes.
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