Today I am thinking about the past, specifically, jobs I have had that did not end well. I started working more than thirty years ago, it seems like forever, but how I was treated at various places has been burned into my brain, given extra significance, become more important to me than many other things that happened back then for some unknown reason, perhaps the fact that it gave me the power to earn my own money. I've written about that before, how I wasn't allowed to keep what I made to the extent that my parents made me give some, most, or even all of what I made to them. Today I have children whose father gives me a check every month, but is very far away from treating me, and thus them, fairly. I've been offered a job and I'm going to take it. I can't wait to get out from where I'm at. I took the job for all the wrong reasons; I thought I needed one, it paid better than anything I had had before, I knew I could quit, but I forgot how hard it can be to leave a place where there are familiar patterns.

Yesterday I went to the new place after work. The manager asked if I was related to people he had gone to school with, I haven't heard my maiden name attached to me in some time. It was odd to hear him talk about exploits from so many years ago, people I knew, places I had been, what are the odds that the manager at my new job went to school at the same place I did? We talked about the spiders that seem to have invaded, my hunch is that they are attracted to a food source and there are actually other insect populations that the spiders like. I offered to bring in a shelf for the women's bathroom, I told him he needed some plants, he said he was worried about bugs, but I said that plants shouldn't have bugs on them unless there was an infestation, or some other poor health indicator. We laughed, he let me talk, he showed me around some, the other guy was pretty quiet, I'm not sure if that's his style, he wasn't interested in the conversation, or perhaps some combination of factors.

One thing I really like about my new boss is how direct he is, I prefer that style. I'm comfortable with it, the boss I loved most and best was like that. I knew where I stood with her. He described himself as blunt, that's probably true too, but I prefer the term direct even while I can see how a lack of tact might be ascribed to him as well. The other guy's car had been in an accident, I felt bad hearing that. Fortunately he wasn't in his vehicle when he was hit, but the damage is still there, and I know from experience how upsetting that can be. I'm so excited to be leaving my old job, but a part of me is very sad too. I don't want to tell my boss that I am quitting. Even though I am supposedly leaving on good terms, it's kind of hard to explain. Psychologically the job wasn't safe, and that's the main reason I'm looking forward to the new place. I feel like I can be very open and honest with my new boss. That type of safety is critical to me. We don't have to agree, but this passive-aggressive dismissiveness will be a thing of the past, and I'm so grateful for that.



The server spoke that he "believed" a dish to contain X and was teased by the guest for lacking a definitive knowledge as to the composition of the menu. Maine was not where the oysters were from so the cosmopolitans were spilled out of spite or rather rite after the taunt to be blunt you cunt can't you find the core's rect—

Um, that's a bindery. Bilk by bulk, booked for life, the book of life as writ by wit less and less each winter the pages port nothing of the sort of torte


I'll fold in my own time.

Faith was not a thing that ever required certain knowledge anyhow opening and closing the little free library lent an air of familiarity to the parting of one text from the next.

Digital always did it better, the face interring chance sans choice, chanting sands under the longing. For the story was stolid, staunchly steeped in raunch so to retch their fawning brunch branch by branch the library system reintegrates from apoplexylem.

Creating has a way of destroying the nothing in the indefinite sense. Not feeling helps but so does being negative in the negative space. Remember when you were sung.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.