This should be interesting. I’m attempting to write this post on The Husband’s computer since mine is still in the shop. He has an old mac, a desktop computer circa 1999, but hey – it’s still running, so why get a new one? That’s my philosophy about pretty much everything nowadays: (nowadays? good lord! how old have I gotten?!) if it ain’t broke, don’t pay to fix it, if it is broke, buy one cheap at Goodwill (and P.S. let it be known that I’m well aware of the grammatical errors in the previous sentence. In fact, let it be known that if you see a grammatical error in my post, 99 times out of 100 I’m aware of it and did it on purpose. The other times I’ve probably been eating peanut butter and crack sandwiches). Speaking of Goodwill, I got 2 new shirts today, neither of which were green. Ha! And, a jacket with buttons instead of a zipper. Take THAT, Universe!

Okay, onto the real reason for this post. My nasty mood. I woke up with it. Does that ever happen to you? Oh, and by nasty I mean foul, grumpy, mean and mad, not slutty and/or in the mood for kinky, dirty sex. Just so we’re all clear on what I’m talking about. I’m trying to keep the work talk out of this blog for fear of getting canned so I’ll try to be as cryptic as possible, but the nasty mood with which I awoke was severely exacerbated by my job and I feel like writing about it.

One of my colleagues annoyed me so much that I almost quit my job and stormed out. Then I remembered that my husband did that three weeks ago, and I’m currently the only one of the two of us with insurance and a retirement plan. So I stayed. And stewed. And realized that I cannot do this forever. I cannot work in a job that is beneath my intellect just to earn enough money to barely squeak by. I also began to wonder how in the hell this happened? And how did it go so far?  I am so unfulfilled and unhappy and maybe it has something to do with The Depression, but maybe it doesn’t? That whole big lie that they tell you with the work hard and get a college degree and then you can do anything? Yeah, if you haven’t figured it out yet, let me enlighten you – that’s bullshit.  I did that. Worked really hard. Got a college degree. And here I still am, doing the thing that I started doing to put myself through college. Why don’t those work-hard-and-get-a-degree people tell you to get a degree IN SOMETHING USEFUL? See how adding those three little words makes that sentence so much more logical?Those liberal arts degrees? They’re doing nothing for you. Especially right now!  Come on people! They’re a dime a dozen and unless you want to be a teacher don’t bother. Teach your kids that it’s either business, nursing or pharmacy. MONEY MAKERS. Had I my life to live over again I would get a business degree, work for five years and then get an MBA. Huge paycheck. Pharmacy also pays ridiculously well, but the hours suck nuts. Unless, of course, you’re a big fan of working on the weekends and possibly taking on-call shifts.  In case you missed it, I’m kind of bitter about the 50K debt I’m in for my liberal arts degree. [What’d you major in? They ask interestedly. Science. She replies in a barely audible, embarrassed whisper. With a minor in community health.]

Wow. That was a giant digression. I’m not even sure I can recover from that and go back to the original point. But, I shall try. I don’t have very many specific duties at my job. The colleague, he stole one. And didn’t tell me. I began to notice something was awry and thought perhaps I would have to involve the IT guys. Do you have IT guys at your job? Are they rude and condescending?  I thought so. They’re also hilarious and fun, and I really do enjoy talking to them, but still, if you don’t have to involve them, you won’t – am I right? Luckily, The Still Small Voice (yes, I’m busting out the Mormon terminology again, suck it) inside of me told me to ask my colleague before I did anything. Sho ’nuff, it was him. He stole my job. His reasoning?  He was trying to help out “because you’re overworked”.  Um, no. I’M NOT. In fact, I’m usually just the right amount of worked, and occasionally I’m underworked, but I am definitely not overworked. And, for the record, despite my complaining about how it’s beneath me, I take my job seriously. I do it right, I do it efficiently, and when people mess with it, I get a little annoyed. Especially because he was being all sneaky, behind-my-back about it. So I sort of blew up. I’m a Taurus, I deal with things poorly, but this incident was also a straw on the back of a very impatient camel who happens to already have a lot of straw on her back. This colleague? He does other annoying things. And always under the guise of “trying to make it easier” – hey, guess what? When you do that, and say that? It makes me actually think that you don’t like the way I’m doing my job, that I’m not doing it fast enough or correctly enough, and that you think you can do it better. And it doesn’t make things easier, it actually makes them more difficult. And AND! There’s an actual way of doing things that is the correct way! They’re called standard operating procedures and they are there for a reason! So, Captain Passive-Aggressive, YOU are doing it wrong, and  I’m giving you the finger.

Then I went to pick up The Husband from his temp job for the week (did I mention he’s working this week? Well he is. It’s a crappy, temp job but hey, it’s 40 hours of work and when mama has to pay the rent that money will definitely come in handy) and discovered that he had worn my favorite hat to cover his head while he walked in the soggy, Portland weather for ten minutes to get from the bus stop to the warehouse. Then he shoved it into his bag where it sat all day. And now it’s all soggy and smells slightly mildewy. My favorite hat. That I got in Canada. That ten people compliment me on everytime I wear it. And I got mad. And he didn’t understand. Men? You are all from another planet. I just thought you should know.