Okay, I like my job, I really do. But I do not like it so much that I am willing to give up weekends, or work 12-hour days (or 22 hour days, as I had to do last week), or miss college football.
I had to work on Saturday. And last Saturday. And Labor Day weekend. Without going into too much detail, it was not exactly planned. My boss always compares us to firefighters: sometimes we might sit around playing cards (if only we actually got to play cards, that would be sweet!), but when the bell rings, we are there to restore order. So there was a “fire,” we had to put it out.
I got phone calls at 2:30am, worked over the holiday weekend, missed the Penn State season opener, and just generally ran myself ragged. And in all fairness, there were people who ran themselves even more ragged, but I’m learning that some people just do that and them working more than me doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to be tired.
D commented yesterday that he thinks I’ve been working too much. What could I say? I have been. It’s stressing me out! And next week I fly to California for some training (and OK, I’m stretching it into a long weekend visiting my sister). In October I’ll be traveling again, up to Pennsylvania. I may have to work a semi-graveyard shift from Halloween to Thanksgiving.
There is no end in sight, and it’s stressing me out! It’s hard to believe that I took a vacation only last month. I’ve been go-go-go since we got back.
See, I’m the kind of person who needs to go hide in a cave in order to decompress. I need a few days of doing nothing to start feeling rested. In lieu of a day off, I’ve just started turning down every social invitation I get because it just sounds like too much work. I even have to avoid just chatting with my coworkers because the earlier I finish my work, the earlier I can go home.
Here’s hoping I get a few days off and that balance is restored before too long!