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| Tuesday, March 27, 2007 |
| slave to the man |
I am entertaining the notion of a second job. See, I have been trying like hell for the past month or two to buy a second car for the commute to work. My credit score won't support a loan. Any loan. It's been beaten and scarred, carrying the battle wounds of divorce. The man I married isn't much higher on the credit totem pole. Second marriage is truly a hundred times harder than the first. Especially because of all of the imbittered thoughts and ideas that are unfortunately pounded into every cell of your being. You can't help but mistrust, question, worry about the intentions of another. You can't help but wonder at the validity of love. I mean, WARS have been fought because of the notion of love. Countries have fallen, blah blah blah, all that crap.
I had a teacher in middle school that used to do something we called 'birdwalking'. She would begin to talk about one thing, which led to another, then another, then another, into oblivion. Sometimes she would walk herself into a circle back to the original subject, but more often than not, she would just forget all together what it was she set out to say. I loved this woman. She was hillarious. Sometimes we would try to lead her into her stories so that she would just keep talking through the period. She had the most interesting stories. I learned a lot about life in her class.
I guess as I age I do a fair amount of bird walking. But, my friends, peers, kids, family still seem to like me. They at least act somewhat interested in the things I have to say. Recently, I started a sales job taking calls in an inbound call center. I remember when I was a teenager, my father used to jab me a bit saying that if I could have a quarter for every minute I tied up his phone line I would be a millionaire. He must be proud that at such a tender age I found, harnessed and nurtured such a talent. The vocation is truly bringing me a living. I talk to people from all over the world. We discuss gardening, kids, bugs, sports, even very personal things like divorce. Just recently a customer called upset because her deceased husband's name appeared on her new checks. (That's what I do.. help people reorder checks) She was crying and inconsolable. I felt terrible because we aren't to take names or address changes from customers over the phone. After I had called to get verification from her bank and followed through, she and I had a long discussion about her love gone past. She said she was eighty seven years old, he was ninety something. She said they both knew eventually one of them would die, but that he always wanted it to be her, because he feared she wouldn't carry on with out him. She said she never learned to drive, never brought an income to the family, never balanced the books, she didn't have to. She said she had a loving and decent husband, that he did all of that for her. She'd said before he passed they would go to the park on little outings and feed the birds. He always took care to hold her hand and lead her through. She was such a lovely person. Her story touched my soul. At the end of our conversation she told me how they first met, bringing a smile back into her voice. She said that it was nice to talk to someone outside her little box of a world, so that she could bring light to a terrible situation.
Ach... if only I had her sunny disposition.
That's right! I was saying I wanted to get a second job, probably waiting tables, if I can figure how to arrange my kids. I think it will be a good thing, we can pay our bills, save a bit, and get ready to buy ourselves a nice home to live in. Hopefully the process won't break us. What's an additional five hours on an eight hour day?
Someone has to be the slave to the man. May as well be me. |
posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 2:32 PM  |
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