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If I was a guy, life would be kicking me in the junk right now. - Salvador Dali in a lawn chair.
I'm invisible without 3D glasses.
lost_angel
lost_angel
If I was a guy, life would be kicking me in the junk right now.
Started work tonight. It sucks royally. Might I say that the work itself isn't that bad. The other data entry-ists (?) and even my manager seem pretty cool. But the atmosphere of the work is outright horrible.

Maybe it's because I've worked lots of different kinds of jobs where I've been given autonomy, a sense of responsibility, that I now find this new job to be ridiculously strict and psychologically demoralizing.

To quote: "You have to sign out when you go to the bathroom. We try to keep that at a minimum around here. If you can wait and hold it until 7:00, do it."

Another quote: "They don't like us to talk to each other. A whisper under your breath is fine if you have to say something to the person next to you, but the lady that hired you keeps an eye on you all the time and then she comes and gets on my case if you're talking."

To me, this just all seems absurd. If they wanted robots to type in all their checks for them, they should have saved their money and had software written to enter all that information by itself.

Although I do need a job, it's nullifying my purpose of staying here in Oxford if my fingers are so sore that I can't even type to work on my thesis when I get home at night. And it's especially not worth my time to sit like a trained monkey, being scolded for talking (and I don't mean chattering, I mean even asking a question to get some help on something) or waiting for permission to pee for just a measly $5.50 an hour. But I keep thinking about all those over-worked coal miners from Germinal and factory workers and just the average American Joe who slaves all day at a job that s/he hates but still begrudgingly gets up every morning and goes into work because that's part of life and they just have to deal with it.

I've already become lazy and soft in my young age, and I guess that in a way I want to prove it to myself that I can handle it just like everyone else. Well at least I can wear headphones and listen to music while I'm typing.

And just in case I falter and can't take it anymore, I picked up a Papa John's delivery application on the way home from work. With tips, it'll pay double without the bullshit and grindstone environment.

And to go onto one more thing. I need to get out of EverRaven's house, bad. I can tell I've already overstayed my welcome. I really appreciate her very much for letting me stay as long as I have, but she and I both are ready for me to get my own place. But I can't find one that I can afford other than living with my cousin, and I've already talked about how uncomfortable that idea makes me. Campus housing is full-up; even the detestable adult housing apartments have a waiting list, which is what I had hoped would be my last hope. Everywhere I go, I feel like damn charity case, 'Raven, my uncle who pays the mortgage on my cousin's place, my other friends who have offered to put me up for a short period of time 'til I can find my own place. I do have money to pay; been giving 'Raven a bit every month. But gah! I can't afford $400-$500 a month just for a little one bedroom place.

I hate this feeling.

mood: anxious anxious
music: Don Henley - "Heart of the Matter"

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