Detrimental
Work has been insane these past two weeks. I think I’ve clocked about 70 hours one week alone. IN-frickin-SANE. I mean, I like my work but they really don’t pay us enough to do all that we do. And the worse part is that we have to be nice about it to students, our co-workers, our bosses, and the other departments who wanted this done "yesterday." We get props every once in a while and that totally keeps us going, I guess. It’s funny but nowadays I value "thank yous" more than a paycheck. Sometimes I think its like I’m a "volunteer".
People are quitting right and left. Another lady quit last week saying that she didn’t earn a masters to be making phonecalls. "HA", I say, frickin’ "HA". It makes me totally rethink the reason I’m here. I mean, I have a masters too. I think I’ve simply convinced myself that this self-inflicted trial is supposed to gain me experience which, by default, it does. However, it is detrimental in so many ways.
We are so submerged in work that we don’t have time to think of our plight. We just "do or die", so to speak. There is not one person in here that doesn’t shoulder an inordinate amount of stress when they go home. It’s funny because some days I’m so tempted to take up drinking just so I can de-stress at the end of the day. My co-workers tell me that they didn’t have health problems until they started working here. So, it’s kind of li—
(wooooaaah, a hot guy just walked by my window…)
Anyway, ahem, getting back to wo—
(woaaaah, now he’s walking back….what a hottie!…hold on….lemme go peek through the blinds…)
Where was I? Oh, yes, so work is so detrimental to my well-being. Yet, I’m still here. My mom asked me the other day, "Who are you working all this over time for, monay? All this and what have they given you?" And honestly, I don’t think I have an answer that would satisfy her. Or one that would satisfy me either.
