Tonight is the night I realize how difficult it is to start a post without the word so. This was the third attempt before I got it right. Anyway, it is difficult to write tonight because all of a sudden I feel like I have an audience. Doesn't that suck? That whole 'look at me look at me look at me. shit, what am I supposed to do now?' attitude that overcomes us? Well, it overcomes me at least, I cannot speak in all honesty for you. I hate my job. i dislike certain people and others are complete idiots and you know what, they might be reading this and I don't want it  to get back to me somehow. Not because I love my job beyond the ability to leave every day at four thirty. But because I don't want to seek out another job that most likely will not have these hours.

So Amanda, if you are here some place, I love my job and all. Just saying.

For the rest of you, I grow weary there. I know myself, and since this is officially my pseudo bi-decade fourth step, let me just let you in on a secret about myself; I stir the pot sometimes. When I get bored or complacent or possibly even fearful I stir crap up for the adventure. And yet at work, it isn't completely like that. I mean, if the Executive Director read this, HR or somebody, they could easily tell me too bad so sad find another job. And I wouldn't have a case to say that my blog has nothing to do with work because I am sure they could find somebody at my place of employment who has heard me say these things on the clock.

And this is where the missing paragraphs would be found. I half typed them and erased them. I thought them out and didn't type them. Then I came close to posting half a blog and stopping here. The audience again. The one that I crave and desire and practically beg for and then turn down the closing curtain as soon as I have your attention. I do not censure myself. I can't and in general I won't. I am who I am, whether it be in the written word or the one you deal with at work, or in meetings for that matter. I have been on and offline the better part of twenty years now, and there is never any part of that online character that was different than the offline one.

Even still, there are missing paragraphs here. So is this or isn't it an inventory? I don't censure but there is also something to be said about restraint of pen and tongue. I bitched and moaned to my girlfriend about it enough. I can get and use another sponsor to vent in front of. I do not need to assassinate (boy that is an absolute fun word to type! Try it, now with me! Assassinate. That is one of those words meant to be typed by fingers. I may never have typed that out before.) anybody's character in here in order to know my part in it and discuss those aspects with you. But in a general way I can show you a piece of what I am dealing with.

We have this card system, called SSG (See Something Good, Say Something Good) and what it actually comes down to is that I think I deserve a lot more cards than I get. I wish I didn't care, and be like Bob, who doesn't care about it, but I guess it just keeps adding up to me not being appreciated enough. Yes, I know where to find these things in the big book by the way, I will get to that part, but this is the bitch and moan and write out your resentment part of it. My supervisor gets them all the time, and I look at what they credit her for and I say to myself that I had a part in that. She planned this big thing and I did all the work. 

Selfishness, self-centeredness. All over the place! Working on it.

So there was a water leak a month ago. A pipe broke under somebody's sink in the middle of the night. Maybe four hours later security is walking rounds in the hallway and noticed the squish underfoot of a major amount of water. Enough water to flood two apartments and about thirty feet of hallway between the two. The boss gets called and my supervisor comes out and the on call tech (we rotate that duty) comes out at two am and they deal with the situation and the tech goes home at eight in the morning. 

It took a week and a half to clear this water out. Baseboards were replaced, as well as flooring and carpet and we moved both residents out while it occurred and we all, as a team, did a great job getting this back together. Personally, I was not on call, so I didn't come out in the middle of the night. But the next day I was pulling baseboards. I was helping to move furniture, locating storage areas and finding carts for the company we hired to do the moving. The rest of the week I was setting up phones and call forwarding and cable televisions in the place where one of the residents was going to stay. I was back and forth all week, and when we moved them back I was front and center in that organization as well. Some of this stuff I did alone, and much was as a team. My supervisor did the organizing, my Director did the official apologies. But for the most part I was the face to the action. I was the one who saw them crying every morning and comforted and consoled while their lives were temporarily uprooted.

I saw some of those SSG cards today. From the Executive Director. Mike got one, thanking him for his response. He was on call that night, it wasn't like he volunteered to be there. My supervisor got one for her great response. Even my Director got one for handling everything so quickly. I was out of the loop. Again. It makes me want to scream. And when I do scream it comes back to haunt me. I get passed up for things because of my attitude. So I get ticked off and hide from the politics and I just put in too many hours doing hard work while it seems like everyone else just rides around and does as little as possible. And this is the tip of an iceberg. I know, I am whining and I hate the feeling but I am really trying lately to figure out what I am doing wrong. (Duh, Robert. You're whining, and that's what you're doing wrong.

It gets frustrating. I don't want the only thank you card. But I do want to be acknowledged. I held on to this all day long. It affected the entire day. Okay I made it affect the entire day, try not to use passive verbs there, author. Then around two o clock or so, up in front of the lobby to the main building, one of the little old ladies, one of the residents that were affected by that water leak last month, pulled up in her golf cart and we stopped to say hello and she headed straight for me to hug me. She is not five foot and less than ninety pounds and it was a great feeling to be hugged by her.

And yeah, It doesn't solve all my problems, because if I were acknowledged by some of the bosses, in public and not just one on one, it would help me love being there more. But as well, you can fuck your cards because I got hugs and y'all didn't, so thank you  Mrs. R. for reminding me what god says my job really is. Yet again.