Tonight We're Gonna Party Like it's 1999..

This past Saturday was my 10 year class reunion. I should feel more grown-up, but I don't. I was so dreading this whole experience, I simply did not want to go. However, I knew if I didn't, I would regret it later on. Plus, I truly needed a weekend away from work and back at my parents' where my mom could cook for me. And she did!

A little background about my class. I graduated in a class of 39 students. Yeah, 39. In the last few years, we've actually lost 2 of those students. Everyone was pretty much related to each other, and by the middle of Senior year, most of the cliques had disintegrated, and we all got along. Mostly.

I was going into this reunion with so much trepidation, and I have no idea why. Granted, I was not one of the "cool kids" in high school, but I had an amazing group of friends that to do this day, are some of the greatest people I know. And due to the wonders and addiction of Facebook, in the last year, I've reconnected with most of my class, and everyone genuinely seemed to be looking forward to seeing everyone else.

But still. I did not want to go.

I did. And I'm glad I did. Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion, this was not. Oh no, our reunion was held at a classmate's hunting camp in the middle of the woods. It was a potluck dinner, that most of us admitted having our mom's make our dish for us. (Really, I could have made a pasta salad Friday night, kept it in the office fridge for 8 hours, then drove with it another 5 hours in my car, and then put it in another fridge until the party... OR, mom could make it for me. I stand by my choice.)

Anyway, we were at a hunting camp. With a bonfire. And snacks. And keg beer. Oh, the keg beer. I'd say there were probably a total of 35 people there, and from noon until at least 1 am, we went through 3 and a half kegs. Good to know we all still know how to drink, eh?

I'm seriously glad I went. I may not consider most of these people close friends anymore, but we all survived high school together, and really, that's a bond we can't really get away from.

Besides, where else would I have been forced into a baked potato eating contest?

No seriously.

Those four pictures are literally the length of the contest. Pose with potatoes, first bite, second bite, Greg wins! I came in a distant third, because yeah... have you ever tried to eat a baked potato with no butter or sour cream? And on a full stomach of beer?

I really did have fun. I kept telling my mom, that if I got there at 3, and dinner was at 6, I would surely be home by 8 at the very latest. Oh yeah, I waltzed into my parents' house at the charming hour of 1:45 in the morning.

And oh boy.. that's where the fun begins! See, I'm horrible at packing for trips. I wait til the last minute, and then I usually end up forgetting something vital. Luckily, my mom usually has whatever it is I need, but for this particular trip, I had brought two options of footwear - flip flops and the heels I had worn to work the night before. Now, my mom and I are alike, but my shoes are size 7's, hers are 9's... won't work.

Naturally, I wore the heels. And then stood for nearly 10 hours on either a hardwood floor, or in really soft ground because it had stormed all weekend.

I was wide awake still (and slightly drunk) when I got home, so I made myself a snack and watched some tv in the living room. Fell asleep on the couch. No big deal, my mom was asleep on the other couch actually... this was pretty convenient.

At 5:30 Sunday morning I woke up in the most intense and agonizing pain I have ever been in. Seriously, the soles of my feet were killing me! I stood up to go into the bathroom to look for some tylenol, and nearly fell down. I hobbled my way to the other room - a mere 25 steps - and it took me almost 5 minutes. Didn't find any tylenol. Literally crawled back to the couch and tried to will the pain away.

An hour later, I was crying from the pain and actually had to wake my mom up and ask her if she knew were any painkillers were. Her brilliant answer was in the bathroom. Thinking that maybe I had overlooked them, I painstakingly stood back up and attempted my way back.

My mom found me curled up on the kitchen floor 10 minutes later. I hadn't made it. Assuming I was still drunk and coming up on a vicious hangover, she began laughing at me. Then, she saw my tears and asked me what the hell was wrong.

I told her about my feet, and she began laughing again. But, she helped me back to the couch, and found me some painkillers from outside in my dad's truck. Such a good mommy I have!! I swallowed the pills and was able to fall back asleep. When I woke back up, the pain was still there, but I could at least hobble around. And to tell the truth, I wish I had had a hangover, because it would have been more pleasant than this was!

Needless to say, I was mocked senselessly the rest of the weekend for my decision to wear heels to a bonfire out in the middle of the woods.

So, Class of 1999... we've lost some along the way, and some think they're too good to acknowledge us, but you know what? I'm happy to have seen those of you that showed, and am looking forward to the next time!

First Date Fail... Again!

I got stood up last night.

Remember the guy from a few posts back that I had tried asking out and he was so completely oblivious to the fact that I just let it go? Yeah, he's still in the picture. At least, he was up until last night.

I've spent all summer talking to this guy - I fully enjoyed conversations with him, and all of that... but seriously, even I can get tired of just talking. So three weeks ago, I told him I wasn't going to do this anymore, that no offense, I have enough friends, and if he's not willing to step it up, then well, it's been fun.

He agreed that we should meet and we set tentative plans to have dinner the next week. We agreed on a day, and then it was getting late, so we agreed to confirm details over the weekend.

That dinner never happened.

And in fact, to this day, it's never been brought up. I think I need to start being more demanding and assertive if I ever want to date again.

Then yesterday around noon, I got a text message from him. "Dinner tonight?" he asked. By this point, I wasn't really feeling it, but I thought I at least owed it to myself to give him a chance if he was finally willing to commit to, you know, meeting. So I replied with "Sure. When and where?" We both live on total opposite ends of town, so it would make more sense for us to just meet wherever instead of him picking me up.

An hour later he gets back to me with, "Sorry, seems I was premature, All I have with me is my work clothes and I haven't even thought of where. Can we talk about it later when I leave work?"

Oh hell no. My biggest pet peeve when it comes to first dates is when the guy doesn't have a plan in place. I fully believe (it's even in my dating profile so he can't say that he doesn't know!) that it is up to the guy to come up with a first date plan. After that, I'm okay with throwing in my own ideas, but if you're going to ask someone out, you have to be the one to come up with a plan.

So I said "Okay" and went about my day. Was I surprised when he didn't get back to me? Nope, not one bit. Did I confront him? I wish I could say I did.

I'm defintiely a passive-agressive person. I saw he was on facebook around 9 last night, so I changed my status to "Stood up for dinner, at home with a bottle of wine and listening to Dolly Parton on iTunes, how jealous of my life are you?"

Let's face it, that IS a pretty awesome way to spend a night...

And then I sent him a text message stating, "So, thanks for dinner?"

God, I love technology.

I haven't heard from him since. I'm really not that broken up about it. What I am pissed off about is the fact that I spent an entire summer trying to date this guy and I have nothing to show for it. There are three events this summer I kind of wanted/needed a date for, and now at least one, possibly two of them I will be going solo too. I suppose that's my own fault though, so I can't really blame anyone.

There are a couple of guys I'm talking to again off the dating site (I really don't have the time or energy to go out to the bar to meet people anymore, so I'm last chance-ing it at online dating once again) and I think one or two of them has potential. They both know right off the bat I'm not looking for an email/IM buddy, so hopefully I have better luck this time.

But seriously? Dating blows. I wish I could just jump full on into the relationship part. I rock at that part.

~*~ Big thank you's to everyone who contacted me about yesterday's job blog! Believe me, the bottom line is that I will be leaving, but I've given myself a deadline of one month to get everything in order before I walk out. One month, 12 days of work... I can handle this! Thank you all again!

Wordless Wednesday - Pretty Much Says It All!

It's Enough to Drive You Crazy If You Let It...

I have a job. A fairly decent paying job actually, and right now, not many people can say that in my state. I really shouldn't complain, but...

I hate my job. Loathe it. Despise it. And even those words don't do justice to the hatred I have for my job. And I'm not without my reasons.

Without getting too specific, I work for a over the road transportation company. My actual job title is "emergency driver manager" but a more accurate description would be "glorified babysitter" because honestly, all I do is listen to grown men whine and cry and complain. For 12 hour shifts.

I started there just over three years ago. I was working a 2nd shift schedule, working 4-midnight four days a week, and then working a mid shift on Saturday. I had Sundays off. It wasn't a bad schedule at all. Within a month I was promoted to watching over a newly acquired account... the biggest one our company had at the time. I was going to get a significant raise and become salaried instead of hourly, with full benefits. Not too shabby for a job I didn't even interview for. (I had gotten the job through a friend who's husband worked there and needed another person on his shift.) There was just one catch though, my shift was changing, and I would be working third shift.

Actually, it wasn't even third shift. I was working 7 at night until 7 in the morning. Three days one week, and four the next. And the cherry on the top of that cake? I was working every other Wednesday, and then working every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.

25 years old and working straight weekends EVERY weekend? Bye-bye social life.

But I took it. I didn't have much choice at the time, and like I said, it was a significant raise I took. It wouldn't be so bad. Or so I thought.

Turns out, when you work that particular shift, if you call in sick, or need to take a vacation day and the only two people qualified to work your job either work the days you don't, or are your boss and works 8-5 and likes to drink his nights away, you're kind of left on your own.

For two and half years, I missed out on family reunions, friends' birthdays, holidays, and really, just plain old socializing. The schedule was a contributing factor to the downfall of my engagement at the time. By May of last year, I'd had it. I had two graduation parties for cousins, a anniversary party for my grandparents', and several other things going on where it became clear, I simply could not work that schedule anymore.

I tried to be accomodating. I suggested that instead of alternatating Wednesdays, we alternated Saturdays instead. No dice. It had to be Wednesday though I don't know why. So finally, I threatened to quit unless the schedule had changed. It worked, I was given the opposite schedule, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and every other Wednesday.

Of course, when this happened, the co-worker who worked opposite of me suddenly wondered if maybe we could alternate Saturdays instead. Funny how that works.

This was May of last year. By the end of June, they were telling me I had to go back to the other schedule because my co-worker couldn't handle the nights because they were busier and things were being missed, and we were in danger of losing the account.

I thought about it, but here I was, 27 years old, recovering from a breakdown, and really wanting to start dating again and finally settle down. I was angry with the company, because they were still denying me my earned vacation time, and holidays.

I gave my two weeks notice. My last day was July 2nd. Truly, a Fourth of July for the books. Instantly, I was a much happier person, I was learning to sleep through the night again, I was working day hours, and sure enough, I was finally socializing and dating again. It's much easier to visit your family who lives 5 hours away when you have weekends off than when you can only visit on Tuesdays. Everything was going really well.

Then, September happened. I was growing disenchanted with my current job, and could tell I was also on the verge of being laid off due to being the newest person there. When my former boss called and asked me if I would come back "part-time", I so should have hung up the phone, changed my number, and not looked back.

He promised me part-time. Whatever hours and days I wanted, and Fridays and Sundays off... if I worked during the day on Saturdays. He also promised me a slight raise. In short, he was desperate, and I could pretty much do whatever I wanted.

I went back. Big sigh. Big mistake.

Within six weeks I was back to full time, and oh! I was working Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. Since November, my schedule has changed at least 4 times, and currently, I am working 4 days a week, 4 until midnight on Mondays and Fridays, and 8am until 8 pm on Saturdays and SUndays. Can you say sucktastic? Because that right there, is the epitome of sucktastic. Think about it; I get out of work at midnight on Friday night, drive 20 minutes to get home, maybe get to sleep around 1:30, and have to get right back up at 7 am to be to work at 8 am the next morning.

Needless to say, I'm not dating anyone at the moment. I barely see my friends as it is.

The hours are not the only thing that sucks. Again, they are refusing me the vacation time I have earned. There are times when I'm the only one there, and am expected to watch over 700 drivers, answer all the phones, reply to the messages coming from the trucks, deal with the customers, AND handle any breakdown issues.

Now, I know a lot of things, but when a driver calls me up and tells me his brake chamber is busted, the only reply I have for him is "Wow, that sounds really bad."

Did I mention the company filed for bankruptcy several months ago? And that every couple of weeks a new wave of let-gos sweeps through the company? They've cut my department down from 11 people to 5. Every day, I go in wondering if I still have a job or not. Not a pleasant feeling, by the way.

The job itself? Leaves me physically and mentally exhausted every single night. In the last three months, here's an example of what I've had to deal with.

~ A driver in Los Angeles calling me (In Michigan) telling me his truck was on fire and that I needed to call 911. And then he screamed at me and called me a fucking worthless bitch when I told him he needed to call because I was 1800 miles away from him.

~ A driver calling me from a truck stop. He had gotten out of his truck, locked the doors, went inside, came back out, unlocked his door, got back into the truck, and somehow lost his keys, so I needed to call a locksmith out to him. And I had to do it soon because there was a line of trucks waiting behind him because he had parked in front of a fuel pump.

~ A driver that constantly came into the office, clearly having not showered in at least four days, leaning over me with his cigar breath, and asking me out to dinner. Four times.

~ Another driver, this time female, sitting on my desk and asking me if I knew she liked girls. And then asking me if I wanted to go to breakfast with her the next day.

~ My personal favorite conversation with a driver. Him: I'm here at the delivery. Me: Good! You're early! Him: I'm at the front of the building. Me: Okay... Him: How do I get to the back of the building?

Seriously. Glorified babysitter to grown men. And women.

By the time I get home Sunday nights, it's become routine for me to break down into tears in the shower and I have no idea why I'm crying. But it happens. By this time, I've sat in front of a computer for 32 out of 72 hours and my body just aches. From my shoulders all the way down to my feet, I can barely move anything, so I end up spending Sunday nights in bed, from as soon as I get home until sometime the next day. And then I still have 8 more hours of work to go before I'm done for a few days.

Again, it sucks.

It's gotten worse this past month. My immediate boss and one of the third shifters both quit with no notice, so we're expected to "make do" and cover these shifts, which means, we're stretched thin, and often, there's only one person working for hours at a time. The stress of wondering if I've done something wrong, or even just from knowing I will be working on my own for 5 hours has caused not only my migraines to come back, but now I'm suffering from TMJ - where I clench my teeth from stress while sleeping, or even at work, and it puts so much strain on my jaw, that I can barely open my mouth to eat or talk. The pain is constant, and its to the point where I may have to have surgery to realign my jaw. This has been going on for over a month now. Constant jaw pain, and no fun to show for it...

I almost walked out of my job last week Friday, when I found out that the vacation days I had been approved for months ago may be taken away because "well your department is short staffed, and you all really need to step up and be more accomodating, so we'll see if you'll be able to get the time off or not."

I honestly don't see how more accomodating I could be! This year, it was mandated that each employee work one 8 hour shift of one holiday throughout the year. Somehow, I'm ending up working three. Explain that.

But I didn't walk out. I can't. I want to...but I can't afford to. Although, is it worth it at this point to stay in a job that makes me absolutely miserable?

I called in a sick day Monday. I wasn't sick, but I had something important to do that night, and well, at this point, I didn't care if I was sick or not, I needed a night off. It was approved by my boss at noon. At five, he sent me an email asking if I was feeling any better, and if so, could I come in for a couple of hours?

I was not a happy camper. And no, I didn't go in.

I so just want to walk out. I can't keep doing this, I can't keep living in pain and exhaustion and the job makes me a total bitch to everyone I speak to, whether I'm at work or not. Plus, I don't think my mom can take anymore "Mom I hate my life" phone calls.

I keep weighing the pros and cons, and as much as I think I need to quit, the fact that I don't have another job lined up is a huge factor I can't ignore.

Ugh... what should I do?