Ranting.

I lied in an earlier post.

I'm not a compulsive liar or anything, but sometimes I feel I have to tell the lie.

The truth is, I hate my job.

Not like the bog-standard 'oh my job sucks' bit, I mean I actually, actually hate it. Right now, two fingers on my writing hand have deep gouges in them, I caught them on a bit of metal. I've got cuts up my arms from other cleaning projects. I've just about healed from a burn I had the other day.

I feel like I work with children. There's maybe one person in that entire place right now who has a decent work ethic. I don't mean me, I mean a guy who transferred a few months ago (who has an awesome accent. He's Welsh, I love it when he shouts 'can we get a total?' and I make him repeat himself, a lot. I love the Welsh.) but one person in about 100? That is not enough of a support system for the stresses of this job.

I mean, it's always kind of sucked. It was meant to be a means to an end 8 years ago, so why the fuck am I still there? It used to be worse in a way because there was one person who when they were in, made the atmosphere so horrible. She's moved stores now (and I'll be in her store for two nights in a row this week. Kill me) and a lot of things have improved, but the attitudes of the people I work with is not up there.

I don't think I'm explaining myself very well, probably because once again I'm at the tail end of a long ass shift (though thankfully, not as long as yesterday) and as I explained yesterday, the after-effects of my TTP are worse when I'm tired. So no writing for me when I'm not (which is why I'm kind of on haitus from writing right now. Screw you work!).

I think that's the bit that bugs me the most. My heart isn't in burgers and fries, my heart belongs to telling my story about Lamb and Carter, it's in the ideas that I get daily and don't get to plan out because they occur as I'm rubbing bleach onto stainless steel. But there's no time to write, so I'm giving up a huge part of myself to work with people who honestly, are less well-rounded than my five-year-old. I do not leave him for 50+ hours a week, plus sleep time, to have to work with people lazier, slower and less fun than him. I feel like I've been forced to give up being mummy to help clog other people's arteries. I don't have a life around work, so it bugs me an unbelievable amount when I see people doing things I want to do or enjoying the sun, going places I want to - like when my family visit my nieces or nephew and I'm there or asleep - and I just, why am I even putting myself through this?

It's because the alternative is just as stressful, being on benefits and trying to balance my life and having to give up my laptop (which I'm still paying for), my phone, the boy's trust fund ... I don't like money at the best of times, but especially when it's trapping me in a place where I'm seriously unhappy. If money didn't exist, I would spend all day writing and then spend time with my boy while he's still young enough to appreciate it.

The shittiest thing about my job is that I know I have a banging CV, and I know I would be a great employee to have, but for some reason, it's hard for me to get anywhere with it. Like, I went for that interview and didn't get it (though the guy I spoke to sounded sad he had to say no, and my friend who works there says he's a pretty straight up guy so I choose to believe he wasn't acting on the phone) but that interview was the first one I've had in about 2 years. It's not the first job I've applied for, and it was nerve-wracking, because one of the side-effects of my illness is that I get really weird about confrontation (I don't know what it is beyond my self-confidence leaking out with all my waste blood maybe?) but I thought I did well despite almost freezing outside the building. I just don't get what more I can do to get out of this place? I know there's one person who reads this who has done just that, and I really wish I knew how you did it, how you escaped the overnights and smelling of stale chips and the constant blame-game the other managers play. I can't do this anymore.