Crawling up from the depths.....
Hanging in there. Very, very tired, I've noticed. Working alot and getting adjusted to the news sleep schedule ( which does NOT permit me to sleep til 12, unfortunately). Plus, fall is rolling in, which I LOVE but also makes me want to snuggle into the covers even more.
And all the changes. It feels like an eternity since last Friday, but it's only been a week. Already, adjustment is setting in. I guess that's because none of this was a surprise, really. Angel is doing what Griff did when his sister died- following me everywhere, latching on, making sure I don't go too. Although this is aggravated by the fact that it's Inside Time for Black Kitties ( it's October, and 'round here, that's serious business) and he's bored out of his mind. Poor guy.
Anthony and I are in a better place, mostly because he stepped it up and apologized, and because I've been getting my much-needed break. I did check in with him this week once, though- he's got the flu, though, and he's stuck in Global Hotspot with it. Can you imagine? Oh, THAT's good times. Apparently, he's been prescribed some sort of kill-everything-within-a-50-mile-radius-of-your-body antibiotic, since this flu also comes with a respiratory aspect brought on by the fact that given the lack of adequate, erm, plumbing ( because of of Hotspot-ed-ness), the people are forced to dispose of their waste publicly. Yes, that means the air is tainted with...all kinds of stuff. That you might not want to inhale. Ahem. When he told me that, I probably had the biggest ICK reaction in the history of the Western world. UGH!
Me? I've gotta figure out how to make more money ( when do I NOT?). Or start taking the bus to work, because gas prices are insane and the drive is killing me. I meant to call The Boutique this week to see if I could come back to work on Weds and Fris, because that would mean if I had to scale back my MoT time untill gas prices come back down ( *snort!!* I think I just hurt myself laughing at the prospect). Or at least give me more in my pocket in general. I think I am seriously going to look into that bus option. I only work there three x a week and if I could do that for two of the days, I can carpool with another girl who's new on Sundays. And on Sundays traffic is not too bad.
I am getting used to the dour topical information, mostly because a.) the people there are great and b.) you really do get inured to it. Yesterday I was working in this area we call Photo 3, because it's at the end of the tour, and it's where you find out the fate of "your" child. Well, one of the computers was on the fritz and wouldn't take a patrons card, and so I was trying to trick it into going in. It just wouldn't work. I turned to the woman and said, "sorry, I think this one's dead"-- meaning the CARD, not the kid ( I actually had no clue about the kid). I immediately realized my HUGE faux pas, and said, "Uh. Ahem. I meant the card. I, uh. Would you like another card? " Luckily she was good natured about it. My coworkers, though thought this was the HEIGHT of humor. I'm sure my boss would have NOT felt the same way.
After she left, I went up to Darren, my Floor Coordinator, and I said, "OH MY GAWD, did you hear that? I am such an ass." He jsut laughed and said, "Oh, Jessica. PLEASE. After awhile you have to laugh about that stuff. I mean, it's terrible, but there's only so much you can take. Humor gets you through."
And indeed, later on he was explaining something to me about crowd control, and how everyone always gets stuck in the Hall of Testimony ( otherwise known informally as the pseudo-gas chamber. It's designed to look like one, and a short film runs in there). People get confused as to where to go next, so it's our job to open the doors after the film ends and usher them to Photo 3 and a short film on the liberation of the camps. So Darren is saying, "Okay, you're peeking through the doors, and you see this last shot of two little girls, open doors, explain the short film, yadda yadda." I say, "Got it. Death, death death, shot of two girls, Liberation film, 'yay, we're all free!' and hustle 'em over." Without even BLINKING he goes, "Right. Exactly. " A pause. I blurt out, "I'm sorry." Another pause. Then we both cracked up.
Oh my GOD, I'm the worst person EVER!!! But he's so right. You cannot keep at this job if you don't develop a thick skin. Of course, I would NEVER do that in front of a patron ( er, the aformentioned incident notwithstanding). I would NEVER do it in front of a Survivor ( of which there are quite a few working there- and children of Survivors, etc.) . I wouldn't do it in front of ANY of my bosses and certainly, most importantly, I would NEVER let it get in the way of making sure the Museum has its maximum intended impact and its mission. I seriously support and believe in that, and I honestly want to assist in it. Otherwise, why would I BE there?
But I'm serious. You've got to get through it somehow and short of coming home and wanting to die, what are you going to do? I mean let's be realistic: I have a boyfriend who's over in the middle of a fecal-atsmosphered shooting range, my cat just died, and I work here. Thank god for therapy, and yet, there's just gonna be days I have to break the ice, come home and watch absolute crap and make inappropriate jokes. I just have to be super careful who hears them.
Humor does get you through. Even if it's gallows humor. You're dealing with a girl who, upon being released from the mental hospital, got cut off in traffic, and leaned out the window of her car and yelled, "HEY LADY! Don't mess with me! I'll kill ya! I'm certified, and I'll get OFF on an insanity plea in COURT!!!" ( I thought Dani was gonna burst a blood vessel laughing.) I don't think she heard me, and that's probably a good thing, because by the way she was driving, she needed the drugs MORE. The important thing is that I felt better, and nobody really got hurt.
I have to be careful, so as to not let stuff slip, like with that patron. But I also need my sanity. It's sort of useful to have a grip on, I've discovered. Slippery in times like these, but neccessary.
And so it goes, one day at a time....
Hanging in there. Very, very tired, I've noticed. Working alot and getting adjusted to the news sleep schedule ( which does NOT permit me to sleep til 12, unfortunately). Plus, fall is rolling in, which I LOVE but also makes me want to snuggle into the covers even more.
And all the changes. It feels like an eternity since last Friday, but it's only been a week. Already, adjustment is setting in. I guess that's because none of this was a surprise, really. Angel is doing what Griff did when his sister died- following me everywhere, latching on, making sure I don't go too. Although this is aggravated by the fact that it's Inside Time for Black Kitties ( it's October, and 'round here, that's serious business) and he's bored out of his mind. Poor guy.
Anthony and I are in a better place, mostly because he stepped it up and apologized, and because I've been getting my much-needed break. I did check in with him this week once, though- he's got the flu, though, and he's stuck in Global Hotspot with it. Can you imagine? Oh, THAT's good times. Apparently, he's been prescribed some sort of kill-everything-within-a-50-mile-radius-of-your-body antibiotic, since this flu also comes with a respiratory aspect brought on by the fact that given the lack of adequate, erm, plumbing ( because of of Hotspot-ed-ness), the people are forced to dispose of their waste publicly. Yes, that means the air is tainted with...all kinds of stuff. That you might not want to inhale. Ahem. When he told me that, I probably had the biggest ICK reaction in the history of the Western world. UGH!
Me? I've gotta figure out how to make more money ( when do I NOT?). Or start taking the bus to work, because gas prices are insane and the drive is killing me. I meant to call The Boutique this week to see if I could come back to work on Weds and Fris, because that would mean if I had to scale back my MoT time untill gas prices come back down ( *snort!!* I think I just hurt myself laughing at the prospect). Or at least give me more in my pocket in general. I think I am seriously going to look into that bus option. I only work there three x a week and if I could do that for two of the days, I can carpool with another girl who's new on Sundays. And on Sundays traffic is not too bad.
I am getting used to the dour topical information, mostly because a.) the people there are great and b.) you really do get inured to it. Yesterday I was working in this area we call Photo 3, because it's at the end of the tour, and it's where you find out the fate of "your" child. Well, one of the computers was on the fritz and wouldn't take a patrons card, and so I was trying to trick it into going in. It just wouldn't work. I turned to the woman and said, "sorry, I think this one's dead"-- meaning the CARD, not the kid ( I actually had no clue about the kid). I immediately realized my HUGE faux pas, and said, "Uh. Ahem. I meant the card. I, uh. Would you like another card? " Luckily she was good natured about it. My coworkers, though thought this was the HEIGHT of humor. I'm sure my boss would have NOT felt the same way.
After she left, I went up to Darren, my Floor Coordinator, and I said, "OH MY GAWD, did you hear that? I am such an ass." He jsut laughed and said, "Oh, Jessica. PLEASE. After awhile you have to laugh about that stuff. I mean, it's terrible, but there's only so much you can take. Humor gets you through."
And indeed, later on he was explaining something to me about crowd control, and how everyone always gets stuck in the Hall of Testimony ( otherwise known informally as the pseudo-gas chamber. It's designed to look like one, and a short film runs in there). People get confused as to where to go next, so it's our job to open the doors after the film ends and usher them to Photo 3 and a short film on the liberation of the camps. So Darren is saying, "Okay, you're peeking through the doors, and you see this last shot of two little girls, open doors, explain the short film, yadda yadda." I say, "Got it. Death, death death, shot of two girls, Liberation film, 'yay, we're all free!' and hustle 'em over." Without even BLINKING he goes, "Right. Exactly. " A pause. I blurt out, "I'm sorry." Another pause. Then we both cracked up.
Oh my GOD, I'm the worst person EVER!!! But he's so right. You cannot keep at this job if you don't develop a thick skin. Of course, I would NEVER do that in front of a patron ( er, the aformentioned incident notwithstanding). I would NEVER do it in front of a Survivor ( of which there are quite a few working there- and children of Survivors, etc.) . I wouldn't do it in front of ANY of my bosses and certainly, most importantly, I would NEVER let it get in the way of making sure the Museum has its maximum intended impact and its mission. I seriously support and believe in that, and I honestly want to assist in it. Otherwise, why would I BE there?
But I'm serious. You've got to get through it somehow and short of coming home and wanting to die, what are you going to do? I mean let's be realistic: I have a boyfriend who's over in the middle of a fecal-atsmosphered shooting range, my cat just died, and I work here. Thank god for therapy, and yet, there's just gonna be days I have to break the ice, come home and watch absolute crap and make inappropriate jokes. I just have to be super careful who hears them.
Humor does get you through. Even if it's gallows humor. You're dealing with a girl who, upon being released from the mental hospital, got cut off in traffic, and leaned out the window of her car and yelled, "HEY LADY! Don't mess with me! I'll kill ya! I'm certified, and I'll get OFF on an insanity plea in COURT!!!" ( I thought Dani was gonna burst a blood vessel laughing.) I don't think she heard me, and that's probably a good thing, because by the way she was driving, she needed the drugs MORE. The important thing is that I felt better, and nobody really got hurt.
I have to be careful, so as to not let stuff slip, like with that patron. But I also need my sanity. It's sort of useful to have a grip on, I've discovered. Slippery in times like these, but neccessary.
And so it goes, one day at a time....
posted by Jessica @ 10:30 PM
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