Hello, friends. Please bear with me while I vent. Maybe you can even relate a thing or two to your own experiences and silently lend support with a shake of the head and a sighed, “Been there…”
So yesterday was a MONDAY. It was a Monday to the extent that I tweeted an exasperated:
It took no less than a half hour to get my sleep-through-a-nuclear-annihilation child out of bed in the morning. No matter how early she is sent to bed, every Monday morning is still a battle, some worse than others. We ended up running late in getting her back to her dad’s house but after we’d left, it came to realization that she’d forgotten her notebook of homework so we had to turn around and get it.
I barely skidded into work on time and no sooner did I sit down at my desk to log into the phone did my team leader come by, “I’m sorry, I have to send you home to change.” What the? See, during the summer, the dress code is pretty lax, with shorts and hats allowed in the call center. Friday however, apparently an e-mail had gone out notifying staff that we had corporate company coming this week and were on a “business casual” dress code – no shorts, jeans, hats, etc. This notice went out at 4:45 p.m. on Friday – my shift ends at 4:30. Brilliant. Trying not to miss *too* much time, I lead-footed it home and ended up getting stuck waiting for one of the Tropicana trains that snakes slowly across several intersections in the neighborhood, leaving no way around it. I get home, I change, RUSH back to work, log in 32 minutes late and start having trouble breathing.
Rummaging through my purse, I cannot find my inhaler (I have chronic asthma) – Ok, I’m thinking, I’m going to drop dead at my desk. Calls are pouring in, I’m trying not to sound like a pervert breathing heavily on the phone and trying to basically meditate myself out of this asthma attack between calls. I make it through to lunch and call the pharmacy who has been trying to reach my doctor for an inhaler refill for two weeks now. They still haven’t gotten a response but the pharmacist offers to try calling her directly to get an emergency refill. I only made it until 2:30 when I could no longer talk on the phone and had to flag down my team leader to tell her I needed to go get a breathing treatment. She said I could leave but would have one “occurrence” against me. This is essentially their writing me up. We are not allowed any time off for anything, period. Screw it. Breathing is kind of important. I drive myself to the hospital and decide to take one last look through my purse, dumping the entire contents out onto the passenger seat. Wouldn’t you know it, there stuck in the *lining* of my bag is my inhaler. I contemplated going in for a treatment anyway because by then the asthma attack was so bad the inhaler wasn’t working fast enough but I eventually did get it under control. As I was pulling out of the hospital parking lot, I get a call from the pharmacy that my prescription is in. Of course, the price of it ended up being too much for me to afford this week so I would have been screwed anyway.
The majority of my bad day ended there thankfully. I did leave out one bit that I didn’t think needed to be aired here, but still… yesterday was one of those, “Enough already!” moments when I just wanted to break down and cry and be held. But of course crying would only give me a headache and there is no one to hold me anyway, so I just kept pushing through it all begging for it to end. Anyway… signing it off here, writing off yesterday as just another day in hell and waiting to see what kind of mood the roommate is in once he wakes up. Then again, with him just staggering out of the bedroom, my asking him, “How you feeling?” and his response being a sinister, “Don’t. Talk….” I can see how this night is going to go.