Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Suck it up, buttercup.

I don’t really know where my lack of work ethic came from. A chunk of my friends keep multiple jobs without any problems. My mom works three jobs, despite the fact that she’s got her house paid off, and takes about a billion vacations a year (I’m sure her surplus of work-hours has some sort of adverse effect on the amount of vacations she takes, but I really haven’t thought that far ahead). My dad has actually resigned from big-shot positions because he felt they weren’t giving him enough to do (can you imagine?). I was far from spoiled; if my sister or I wanted something when we were kids, we had to work for it. I have no problems working hard to get something done, so long as it’s something I like (for example, this masterpiece probably took me an hour to complete, and I was crazy sick), but when it comes to working a regular job, I spend the entire day rolling my eyes and complaining to myself inside of my head. I put up a pretty good façade for employers, but every day that I go to work kills me a little inside.

I do make a living. As much as it sucks, I get up every day and work my ass off for eight hours. The pay isn’t great, but due to the fact that I work for a non-profit organization, and I’m dangerously under qualified for the job, I’m not really in a position to complain. That being said, I live alone, which means that I pay for everything by myself. Although I certainly don’t miss the days of roommates, I miss only having to pay half of the cable bill, and half of the rent. Also, my spending habits aren’t the greatest… I tend to drop cash like a freshly-signed rapper, drink like Lohan on a bender, and gravitate toward anything shiny like a dirty gutter-crow. This is the lifestyle I’m accustomed to, and I don’t really choose to calm it down just yet.

Unfortunately, this means that I’ve been forced to take a second job to keep up. I suppose I could take an alternate route, and learn to budget and eat a ton of KD, but I’m really not interested in this approach (and I only like to eat KD on my time… Not out of necessity, thanks). Tomorrow night, I’m going to suck it up buttercup, and start another job at a night clinic. For now, I’ve agreed to work one weekend and one or two weekday evenings a month. Unlike my day-job, this position pays me way more than I’m worth, and the rumor is that it’s actually pretty easy-going.

The truth is, although I'll be dying inside (even more than normal!), the ice on my wrists should make up for it all. I'm pretty sure that's how it works, but I'll be sure to check with Slick Rick first.

~sarah p.

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