Confessions of a hopeless fuck-up

They always tell you: "Do your best."  The advice is less forthcoming when your best sucks.

I've got this job. There are some things that suck about it, but it's a good job. The people are fair and nice, and that alone is pretty rare, and makes me want to do well.

The thing is, I keep fucking up.  For a while there, I had good reasons to fuck up - not excuses, but real, verifiable causes that a conscientious person could identify and correct. Things like insufficient sleep, lack of training, inexperience and trying to work quickly at the expense of  of working thoroughly. 

One by one, I have corrected those problems, and things have improved.  But not enough.

I make stupid, rookie mistakes.  People hand me paperwork with obvious errors and my signature on it, just bigger than life. And I look at it, and it's like it's someone else's work. I remember handling it, but I don't remember skipping or duplicating or fucking up whatever got fucked up BUT THERE IT IS. And I am powerless to excuse or redeem it. All I can do is accept it, and promise to do better, knowing I probably won't.

It's all compounded for the worse that I am currently the main breadwinner at Casa de Loser; times aren't all that plush WITH me working. If I fuck this gig up, it's gonna get ugly and fast.  That pressure is the final turn of the screw, and there were times last year when I really thought I was going to succumb to it. I really felt like a mental, physical or emotional component was going to just give out, and shit would get real. All I could do was trudge miserably ahead and keep showing up as long as they'd let me. 

I'm a big boy, and I know that it's just a job. But I've tried not giving a whit of a fuck about my job, and it doesn't suit me. I can't get the math right. When I try not to care, I'm really good at it, and it shows. And it's unsustainable. It's not long before I speak and behave as if I really don't care, and at that point I may as well just quit and get on with it.

On the other hand, I have managed to disconnect some of the gnawing shame associated with tripping over my dick on a regular basis, and it's a good thing. Being a witless fuckup is pretty painful, if you don't handle it properly (and I don't).  I have somehow managed to step back from the sting of failure, and while I still want very badly to do well, the cascading anxiety of relentless, ridiculous mistakes has become a little bit removed. All I can do is patiently surmise: "Well, they'll either fire me, or they won't." I don't exactly look forward to that, but I have to say I have learned to look on the bright side of that eventuality and recognize the good that comes from change.

But I'd much rather do well and enjoy the benefits of a secure position that pays the bills. And I would really like to enjoy the well-being that comes from competence and a job well done. That is much more my speed, and while I'm capable of it (in theory), I miss it.

Problem solver

If people are ever forced to carry around RFID-type chips in their bodies (I assume I'll be dead by then, or in jail from firebombing to protest lost civil liberties), one piece of information that is absolutely vital is one's résumé, in editable form. Carry around your driver's license, your medical history, passport. Sure, carry all that, but for god's sake, don't forget your résumé.

Because when I return to work after two scheduled days off and find a note from you that says: "we're out of hand towels in the bathroom," I want to be able to (again, I realize I'll be dead - fair enough) bring up your vocational credentials and on the bloody spot irrevocably delete the portion that says you're a "top-notch problem solver," and replace it with "useless, barking moron."

A last, evil laugh

You remember that scene in the first "The Lord of the Rings," where the group struggles through some dark, stinky crevices underground, running from a fiery, angry demon, and although Gandalf makes a portentious stand, ruining not the ugly demon but the ground upon which he stood, sending him to the anonymous darkness never to be seen again? And then the evil demon, hurtling towards its ignominious demise lost in a forgotten hole lashes out with one final, desperate and unlikely bid to save himself and ensnares Gandalf by the ankle, dragging him down with himself? It was like that.

In other, unrelated news, she quit recently, but staged a spirited comeback attempt by appealing to an uninformed and apparent democratic majority when her chief critic was out of town.

I only mention the two because, you know, it's faster than making two separate posts.

Tumult

My boss quit a few days ago, and the workplace is in relative chaos. As much as livelihood issues square dance around my panic button, I find it very instructive to watch how individuals and groups react to the stress, strife, threats and opportunities that upsetting an apple cart provides. It's pedagogical to see who grabs for apples, and who tries to right the cart.

Even more so, it gives me an opportunity to read people and their reactions, which become transparent when there isn't sufficient time to cloak skulduggery in the sleight-of-hand that usually accompanies ulterior motives. With haste, these feints and grabs become naked, and even those like me who find human nature fairly impenetrable can perceive them easily. Instructive, but I find every lesson disgusting and repugnant.

Rockin' the boat

Waters are choppy here in the U.S.S. Jobsite. Makes Daddy jumpy. Will attempt to ride it out.

Machiavelli doesn't live here

We all have our strengths and weaknesses. Some people think I'm a little too quick to note my weaknesses, and they have a point. On the other hand, I find that humility agrees with me, and speaking in muted tones about my gifts and being realistic about my flaws keeps my feet nicely on the ground, where I like them.

One strength I do not have is a circuitous, conniving mind, capable of multilayered, manipulative thinking. Whatever abilities are granted to my little simian brain, they are of a straightforward nature, procedural, for better or worse. I am terrible when it comes to gauging what others are thinking, what their next moves are, and why, and how I should play my cards for my own benefit. Although I know for a fact that I could have gone farther in life much faster if I had these types of cognitive skills, I am largely ambivalent about their lack; I am not bitter or regretful about it, but I do recognize where they are handy.

My pathetic compensation for the absence of these skills is that I abhor when they are used against me. If I find that I have been manipulated in such a fashion, I am bitterly spiteful; for that, I carry a grudge like I carry my last ounce of blood. I am profoundly unforgiving when I find I have been tricked or lied to. It's closing the barn door after the horses are gone, but it's what I've got.

Also, I'm not at all comfortable when I sensed they are employed around me. When I catch a whiff of deception and evil guile, I quickly realize I'm in a place I don't want to be, whether it's personal or professional. I am learning to heed that sense of discomfort, and act upon it in a more timely manner.

I wonder if such craftiness is a skill one can learn. If so, I wonder if I would want to learn it. It's tempting...

Watch your mouth

My irascible streak continues through today. When pressed, I even shared my caustic wit (translation: I mouthed off) a bit with someone in a position of authority over me. It was quite a natural occurrence, and it was out of my mouth before I had a chance to consider it. I guess I'm getting careless in my old age.

I really shouldn't make a habit of it, but it felt so good and right, it can't have been all bad.

Deja vu

I'm at a point in my work dynamic that feels familiar. I am over the honeymoon period where everyone is nice, all projects look like opportunities and most efforts I put out bring a positive return. I am into a lurch now, where people have learned not just my abilities but my occasional downfalls, and I have learned theirs. My efforts rarely bring kudos anymore, and new tasks just feel like more work.

The vibrancy is draining out of all the colors in my professional world, leaving a drab, gray canvas that is less-than-inspiring. I've been here before. When I was, I chose to cave in to apathy, tuning out and offering less of myself. For many reasons, it only makes sense: why give and give when you get less and less back? In retrospect, I don't blame myself for these subtle implosions. The law of diminishing returns is a powerful deterrent.

On the other hand, I can now look back on those daily choices to withdraw and objectively wonder to myself: Were they the best way to handle a given situation? Sure, I probably saved myself a significant degree of workload learning to protecting my cubicle's status quo. I got to a point where I could identify at fifty yards anyone who even smelled like they were bringing me additional work; shrugging or scowling at them was occasionally useful in repelling their stack of paperwork, but what did it leave me with? I can look back now and see that I didn't learn much, I didn't grow, and I'm certain I've missed some opportunities because of it.

The key lies in finding and doing projects that align with my own goals of personal growth and learning by doing. I am fortunate in my position that I can select many projects that I take on. I should use that advantage more. Rather than empty days of avoidance, I will have learned new things and picked up the small victories that build up over time.

Maybe I will find the energy to push forward, to resist vocational hibernation in the face of a dull, sepia landscape. And don't kid yourself - it takes a significant amount of energy, and in daily doses, to trudge forward when all signs indicate that you're just throwing your best efforts on the fire to warm an empty house. Honestly, some days I just don't have that energy. But some days, I do. Best to try, I suppose.

An old enemy comes creeping back

What's my problem?

At my last job, as I've written before, I allowed an unhealthy frame of mind to dictate the structure of my work, allowed a cranky, negative voice to rent space in my head.

It's not all just my weak-mindedness, although that does play its part. It's a condition brought on by too much to do, the unwillingness to say 'no' to more projects when asked, and an inability to compartmentalize and maintain perspective under stress.

There, I said it. Typing it out makes it feel like a dirty secret, but I don't think there's anything to be embarrassed about. It's precisely that compulsion to deny a problem that exacerbates it. Follow that line, and before you know it, you get a repeat of two or three years that were among the shittiest in my life, culminating in the monstrosity that was early 'o7. Let's not do that again, shall we?

It causes me to lose what is probably the best asset of my personality: my sense of humor. I lose that, I might as well shoot myself. It's the only thing that balances out my cynicism, my negativity. I can easily imagine every good person in my life dropping me like a hot turd in that event.

What to do? Luckily, solutions are available.

Do more. One thing I have found to be as reliably true as anything else in this life is that if you want more, give more. Do more. Be more. Working to do less and less, avoiding work and responsibility creates an internal culture of fear and withdrawal, making it impossible to grow and break new ground. However, working to maintain a positive, even aggressive attitude, saying to the world: "I shall stop fearing the world; rather, let them fear what I may do" is hugely more useful and productive. It projects my focus outward, leaving less attention for navel gazing and fixation on the self, especially the negative aspects thereof.

I find that if I abandon the opportunity to goof off at work, to eschew procrastination, I can get through intimidating tasks more easily than expected. Putting my head down and actually doing what I'm paid to do allows me to reach a point where secondary, even leisure activities can be addressed without shame or unfavorable consequences. Sloughing off tasks is a seductive but poor habit to get into.

This is not the last word in pulling my head out of my ass. There must be additional answers and techniques involved with improving my workplace happiness and attitude. But, this is likely a cornerstone of a comprehensive solution. Good for me.

Customer service sucks

Having worked for years and years in support positions of one variety or another, I can safely say that spending your life in the direct service of others sucks the life right out of you.

Like any other job, its difficulty is magnified exponentially by the degree in which you try to excel. Nurses, technical support jockeys, retail clerks - all these jobs are pretty easy if you're the type to just coast along and make a concerted effort not to give a fuck about the quality of your work and the people it affects. Take it seriously though, and the job's demands will tap your soul like a vampire with a tapeworm.

Working to accommodate the needs of others takes skill, talent, planning and devotion. It's like being the cartilage in a knee, or the squishy rubber of a mountain bike tire, absorbing the impact and jolts and whiplash from every bump in the road, so as not to pass it on to the next guy.

Need something impossible, due to someone else's failure to plan their own life? No problem. Need something done in 5 minutes that usually takes 20? Hey, we'll give it a shot. Need a solution to a problem that isn't even in my field, much less my direct resposibility? You got it, champ. It takes a lot of guts to plant both your feet and shout with determination: "Sir, I am your squishy rubber!"

Not to say that other gigs aren't tough, but they're tough in a different way, I think. Overall, we're all in the business of helping or accommodating someone else, but those who deal face-to-face with those whom they serve know just how exhausting it is, compared to simply appeasing one, pointy-headed boss.

There should be a separate spa for those in the support industry. An oasis just for those who need it most. Hotel clerks, 911 operators, paramedics, teachers, but only the ones who demonstrate a willingness to do a decent job of it. A sanctuary, stocked with lots of booze and pot and hookers, no clocks and no phones but those that dial out. But most of all, they should all have comfortably-appointed soapboxes, constantly manned, where any visitor can plop down and bitch to their hearts content about the people and the predicaments they faced that week, and what geniuses they are for having braved the storm and found a solution to a problem they didn't cause. Because that's what those in the service industry need most: someone to unload on.

And the people on the other side of the soapbox, listening to all the haranguing of these special spa clients...? Heroin. All they want.

Stupid people piss me off

I regularly come into contact with people with whom I must get along, but who have an ignorance about them that obstructs not only their life, but also the lives of people around them.

Regularly tripping over, and picking up after, the same potato-headed goofball again and again wears a guy down. It really grates on me to have to smile and nod and suffer the same noodle-head ad infinitum.

I had to get that out - thanks for listening.

We friends again?

As so often happens, I found a way through my frustrating dilemma just as my weapons were loaded and unsheathed.

It's fixed, and I feel better. I need to find something easier to do that doesn't involve stupid electric boxes...

Mama's got a brand new bag

My wife has entered undiscovered territory this past week, starting a new job closer to home. I am very proud of her for applying, interviewing and taking a job, especially knowing how harrowing the whole miserable process can be. Luckily, they know quality when they see it, and snatched her up as quickly as they could.

It's closer to home and so far, low stress. Also, it's a reliable schedule, obliterating much of the guesswork involved in the last gig. It isn't all perfect, but a lot of it's good. I sure hated to see her worn to the bone with long shifts, brutal weather and marathon commutes. I really like seeing her fresher and with more time on her hands.

She may like it too, but I don't know - all that matters is that *I* feel better, right? Heh.

Where the Hell have I been?

Has it really been this long since my last blog entry? Wow. That should indicate how hectic life has been lately. I've been doing lots of fun stuff that I should tell you about, but I haven't taken the time.

I went to Sourgrass in Stanislaus National Forest last weekend with my boy. It was a busy day for babysitting, but still a great time. He could have spent the entire day tossing leaves into the river and bidding them goodbye, and was actually mad when I tore him away.

I'm getting along famously with my wife, who is totally awesome and radical, according to the child of the 80's. We don't have a lot of time together, and when we do, we're pretty burned out, but we're still tight, and I wouldn't trade that for anything.

Eh, that's all I have (made) time for. Hope all is well with you. Peace on you.

working life 1

Life is good. The new gig is enjoyable, but the commute & pay are not. The scenery is *gorgeous.*

On to bigger & better, though. I have an interview today for a closer, better-paying gig. I really want it.

Interview

I have an interview today for a computer gig in Stockton. I hope it turns into something, but I am not convinced it's a match. Sometimes, though, life surprises you...

So far, so good

I had a job interview Monday morning, went really well! I was loose - I made a conscious effort not to get penned into that space in my head where I have to say everything perfectly and have all the smooth answers. The result was that I was likeably obnoxious, and passed this portion of the process. Now, on to the background check! Wish me luck...

Testy dispatcher

I took a 3-hour test today for a gig with the county Sheriff's department. It was a tough test, timed and unforgiving. My reading comprehension and note-taking are strong, and they helped counteract some drawbacks from some skill sets that were maybe a little less robust than I had hoped.

The test was pass/fail, and I am confident that I passed. I should know for sure within two weeks. I gave it my best, and I feel pretty good about it. The time-sensitive nature was a bit of a surprise, but after the first five minutes, I realized what pace the thing demanded, and rose to the occasion.

There were about 12 other applicants testing. I am surprised how many people show up to this type of thing looking... well, pretty casual. No flip-flops today, and it wasn't like it was an interview, but some people didn't show up dressed to play.

Big props to Grandma for helping with childcare and transportation, or I woulda never made it.