Posted by: jamesotis | July 25, 2008

Paradise Burned

Yes, Call Me When You’re Sober by Evanescence is my ringtone… for all numbers relating to work. My current employment is a fiasco tucked away in a snafu rolled up in a whoopsie. And I still love it. Still not sure how I feel about being in a dysfunctional/codependent BDSM relationship, but it’s one of the few things in life that makes me happy. in my work.

  As Bob is fond of saying, minds fly at the 4th of July. As with any seasonal service job life guarding is typically thankless (apart from Bob), dirty and unhealthy (not merely in the physical sense.) My recent week of asthma attacks were the result of breathing the air at my facility for 8 hours a day. My unscheduled absence yesterday due to the severity thereof. And I agreed to stay for 3 extra hours today to cover for a co-worker’s oversight. I. Am. Burned. Out.

  But where else would someonean elderly female patron assume that the family locker room communal area would never have males present? And be able to point out to said topless retiree the dad that just entered wi/ his kid in tow. Or find not-so-recent immigrants barbecueing in the sauna? Parent’s frotting withtheir kids within arms reach? The mentally disabled getting off in the hot tub? Also the cutest kids on the planet, some of the wisest elders of our era and some of the daftest parents that came in between. Stories to last a lifetime, and lessons that are worth their weight in gold.

  I recently took stock of my workplace happiness. I love my job, it’s easy and I have a mostly wonderful boss. Conversely the pay is only workable for students wi/ roommates and then after several years seniority. One’s health is compromised, on all points of the spectrum. One’s coworkers are typically immature and the bureaucracy is Vogonistic. A net negative.                                            In my opinion a very worthwhile excercise, I recommend it to all.

  Back in the dark ages of ’04 I graduated as a Nurse’s Aide and went off to seek my fortune. I also quit completely the career that I had left three times previously, each time swearing never to return: Aquatics. Now for the same bridge, different destination. I think I’ll put away my matches this time. Reverse Murphian psychology? Yes, but more than that. This is a job where I can return any time and  be welcomed with open arms and an outlet for my OCD (pools will never be clean). Not that I hope to return as anything but a patron, but a second income with flexable scheduling is difficult to pull from seemingly thin air. It’s also where my heart is and where it’s welcomed. So as I read Vogon poetry memos and plot my escape I can’t help but feel a bit wistful. Sober or not, Nandreeson Memorial can call me if the Maker of the Anti-Rain Buddha is needed.



  1. For your amusement

  2. I’ll enter the latest memo

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