The fall blehs are setting in.
Since the washing machine has been disassembled, I took stuff to the laundromat. I finally decided that washing and drying clothes for $3 a load really wasn't that bad, considering what a pain in the ass it is to do it by hand. I still haven't found, nor bothered to look for, the washing machine leak. I don't feel like fooling with it.
I know that I'm not an idiot and that it shouldn't be that difficult to find what's leaking. The parts aren't expensive and there are plenty of places online to find repair instructions, but something stops me. My mind races, tells me I'm stupid, tells me I'll break it, blah blah blah. It's the norm these days.
The same goes for my latest, greatest, make-money-online-so-I-can-work-from-home adventure. I know what needs to be done. I know what to do. I have AWESOME ideas. But it sits there, unfinished. What if I make someone mad? What if I do something wrong? What if?
I've gone back to taking a fourth of a pill every morning at work to try to keep myself in check, like I did back when Bossholio was there. This time, my boss is the last thing causing me anxiety, it's just the whole place in general. The sales department is stressful in itself but the work doesn't bother me. I've worked in fast paced restaurants, busy convenience stores, little head shops at risk of getting raided (okay that was a long time ago) and I thrived on it. I think it was because in most of those situations I was either working alone or in charge. Now I take orders that won't ship on time because purchasing didn't order the parts or engineering isn't doing their part fast enough. I can't answer emails for the phone ringing, we're missing sales because quotes aren't done and while all this is going on, Sparkles is answering lists of stupid questions from corporate instead of doing what he needs to.
The GM works for two hours, then goes down to the store in town to play the poker machines. His car is usually still there when we come back from lunch at one. He's supposed to be on his way to the other plant, an hour away. His secretary/HR liason (we don't have an actual HR person on site) sits and reads romance novels all day. The senior engineer sits at his desk and naps two or three times a day. The Groper texts his woman/wife/whatever the hell that whole relationship is, that he no longer lives with but still shares a vehicle with, all day long, to the point that he actually did get taken in the office and slapped on the wrist. Now he only does it when the GM isn't there, which isn't hard. Thelma openly texts her kids at college, shops Craigslist and comes in and leaves when ever the fuck she feels like it. The office notice that says, "cellphones are forbidden during work hours" is located directly across from her desk. Peppermint Twatwaffle stays on her cell with her kids, who are grown ass adults, all day long, while stomping around like a Clydesdale in her three inch heels, dressed like a bar fly and hollerin' up and down the hall like a sailor on leave. She is supposed to be the plant manager.
While this is going on, Me and Lulu (she's the cost accountant) stay at our desks because if we're caught talking to each other in the hall, we're called down. The GM actually told us we were like "them hooker women" he used to see on the streets in Italy when he was in the navy. We obediently turn the ringers on our phones off and keep them hidden from view. If we speak to each other it's in hushed voices over the office phone, lest we be accused of lollygagging.
The only thing saving my job is my ability to keep my mouth shut and that's just not possible without chemical intervention.
Anywho, I'm gonna run back to town and get my clothes out of the dryer before dark. Ya'll have a good one.