Yesterday my former employees pulled the final straw, burst the final bubble, pushed me over to my breaking point. I couldn't do it anymore; I tired of the back-stabbing, name-calling, the having someone else do my job for me because I don't feel like it, the rotten attitudes, the always having to get someone into trouble, the high school mentalities and the drama that goes with them—everything! And also, I had worked for this place for five ridiculously long years and I had finally reached the pay amount I was making ten years ago at a different job—a whopping $8 an hour. This finally came about only on the last pay period, and though I deserved to be making more considering I rarely called off, was never late, did my job better than any of the other employees (yes, I truly believe this), so on and so forth, I come to find out that people who had been there only a year or even less got bigger raises and were making more than I was. I. Was. Hot. I decided then and there I was not going to do anymore extra work than what my job required me to do.
So, for the past two weeks I kept up with that mantra. I will not do more than what my job required me to do. I was not going to do other people's work for them just because they don't feel like it and so they can have more cigarette breaks. Wasn't going to do it. Then this Sunday I come to find out the reason why when I came to work and it looked like my replacement on my day off (Saturday) hadn't done much was because she was pulled away to do work she wasn't supposed to be doing, just so the rest could get out of work faster. So that left me with a pile of work, and then told I only had three hours to work on it, then the rest of the day I had to go do work that was not a part of my job, because the damn place won't hire enough help.
I did my work in the three hours I was allotted, punched out and told the manager I'll be back Thursday to drop off my uniforms and pick up my final paycheck. I was scheduled to work through this entire week until my weekend off. My boyfriend didn't like that I quit, especially without having another job already in line, but I'm going to look at this as a time to refuel and a time to push away the stress my former work had caused me. I suffer from anxiety as it is, but when the stress levels from all of the hate at work rises, my anxiety does too and I begin having heart palpitations, and those my dear readers are no fun. Not at all. When they happen, you feel like you'll have a heart attack. Stress has been known to cause heart attacks, and that place of which I worked brought upon its own drama and stress when it needn't have. Whenever anyone had a problem with someone, usually I was the one everyone came to to dump their problems onto, and why I have no idea, but it only caused me more stress and anxiety and the feeling of a possible heart attack.
I'm glad to be done there. I should have left there a long time ago, and the real reason why I didn't leave is because I'm not a people person and the job made it so I didn't have to interact with a lot of people, primarily just the fellow employees. So now that I have this time on my hands, and in a little while I'll start the filling of applications process, I'm going to clean this house, clean it good, and work on my novel, maybe do some yard work if I feel up to it (which I've been neglecting the entire year), get some reading done. I think I'm going to enjoy not working a little too much, but not having my own money is going to really suck. My boyfriend has a good job (when he works) but I still hate to have to borrow money from him to buy what I want, because then I feel as if I owe him. I feel this way with everyone. But until I do get another job, I'm going to take advantage of my free time and get to writing and other things I couldn't with the day job.