Monday, March 5, 2012


I didn't even know what to call this shit, but I have a bone to pick with ... well, with ... who the fuck knows. Just a bone to pick. Cuz I'm overwhelmed.

I have a serious problem with the fact that companies were so quick to fire but are so slow to hire. I'm well aware that I am extremely fortunate to have been employed through this great recession - I get that. And my complaint here comes from a place that is completely cognizant of the ... well, privilege that I enjoy as one of the ones that has remained employed over the past few years. I'm not even trying to front, ok? Privilege. I get it. I know it. I'm not trying to gain sympathy here.

But I am trying to convey my own frustration with the speed (an oxymoron) with which we are recovering jobs. As much as the unemployed need work ... we need you, too! There's a lot to do - and no one expects less because there are fewer people around to get the job done. In fact, the expectations have grown and I, personally, have been stretched thin, and thinner, and then steam rolled to damn near a trillionth of a millimeter ... and, as even metal, when so pressed, I'm feeling brittle.

I struggle pretty hard on a consistent basis with not losing my cool, or just plain snapping (ethnically). I need a reprieve. Some release. You know how when a train rolls into the last station and you hear the HISS of release hydraulic pressure? Like that.

And that's not coming from "just hold on a little bit longer," or the pizza you order in for lunch. Holding on a little bit longer just means ... well, hold one a little bit fucking longer! And pizza? That just now says, "don't leave for lunch - eat here."

(I'm not ungrateful for the pizza itself. After all, pizza is YUM! Thank you.)

But really, when are we going to get more people? We need people. People needs jobs. On either side of the unemployment line there's pressure building ... that's really my point. Those people that are losing their homes, getting collection calls, turn off notices or angry visits from the landlords? That shit is stressful ... and they truly, honestly just want to work.

And there's plenty of work to do! PLENTY. OF. IT.

It's a peg and a hole of the same shape and size. And yet here we still are ... anxious, stressed and worn out. Giving our lives to nothing ... because either we're working like slaves and can't figure out how to really have a life outside of work ... or working on resumes and finding more job applications to fill out and unable to really have a life outside of the house.

(Maybe this is bullshit - but here my mind lays)