After almost 17 years in the same job I now have to look for a new job. Obama care. I went from 40 hours a week to 29. I was in that (willfully) oblivious world where I was happy at my job, happy with the people I work with and then realized that if I don’t get another job or find one that pays more than this one I am going to be that crazy lady shuffling down the sidewalk in filthy pink bunny slippers screaming at the sky and the piece of McDonald’s cheeseburger wrapper flying by on a gust of wind. I’m trying to fill out a resume and so far have this: “Worked a long time at one place. Tolerated a lot of bitches. Made a few great friends. Realized my capacity for taking shit from others is shallow.” There’s one job I’m putting in an application for even though it has one mega panic attack inducing requirement: knowledge of basic math. All I can think if some old guy with a paunch wearing a tie from 1978 yelling at me to add and multiply fractions in under 10 minutes.
So I feel like this little kid who has obviously had enough and is telling the world he’s had enough.