Giving the Boot to Complacency

I didn't go to work today...I was sick. Mental health day. Or, in other words, I hate my job.

*and it's the same, old song...*

I am notorious for this. For hating my job. I've become so good at it. Oh well, "a girl's got to have a talent!"

I refuse to apologise for this. Too many people are complacent, and just stay in their jobs because, well, I don't know...Maybe because they think they can't get anything better. Or maybe they are too scared to venture out into the unknown. Alternatively, they could be too lazy, or too comfortable, and have simply resigned to the fact that the way it is, is it for them.

I refuse to be complacent. In fact, I bolt in the other direction.

I do understand that people have different priorities. Money might be tight. Or the money might be so good that it's worth the mundane path to obtaining it. Couples may be starting families, so work really takes a backseat to the more important priority of children. And then some people simply view a job as a job. They go, put in the hours and the effort, make a few jokes with fellow colleagues, then go home at the end of the day and don't think about it anymore than that.

I love doing fruit and vegie shopping. In fact, I love grocery shopping. Walking up and down the aisles in my own little world, pondering all the possibilities of exotic foods...I don't know, I think you either love it, or you hate it. And I'm pro-grocery. Anyway, I often think about the people who work in fruit and vegie shops, and supermarkets. You can tell the difference between the school/uni kids who are there purely to pay for weekend drinks. Then there are the sons and owners of the fruit shops, and the middle aged women working in Coles and Safeway, who are there for real. This is what they do, day-in, day-out. It's an important job, in terms of serving the community, and one that will always be around; we will always need these items. But golly, imagine that life. Yet, some people are content with that. They are a fruitier or vegetable-teer, and for the 60 working years of their lives, they pack, box, place, carry and shelve fruit and vegetables. I lasted two weeks, (more like 10 days), at David Jones, where I was on minimum wage ($12 an hour) to run around the store floor lugging infinite numbers of unwanted clothes, and returning them to their rightful place. Theoretically, it doesn't sound too bad. But when there are 17 coat-hangers using your arm as clothes rack, that have garments intricately weaved onto their hanger, that all belong in a different brand section of the store, it's not so fun. I began to loathe ignorant shoppers, who were careless in where they ditched their unwanted goods. So I departed. A couple of weeks later, I bumped into a girl that I had worked with there. I didn't know her well; the only decent conversations we had had were bitch-fests about how crap our jobs were, and how much we wanted out. She said something to me that I will never forget. She said "When I heard you'd quit, I was like, good on her." It was such a nice thing to hear. I felt like I had really taken one for team self respect.

It's never been about the money. I had one job that paid me incredibly well. But it involved almost an two hours in travelling time both ways, as well as bumper-to-bumper traffic and parking that required coined payment, as well as a lengthy walk to work. Money schmuny. I just couldn't do it anymore.

At the moment, I live quite a free life. I don't have any children. I am not romantically attached. There is just me, doing my thing. This is the time in my life, if any, where I should be technically married to my job. So, I'm asking you, is it such a bad thing to want to like (or perhaps love) my husband? Don't think so. CAN I HEAR AN AMEN?!

This is my justification. And I think it's a pretty damn good one too.