Resolving Timeline Issues

Remembering to BREATHE

Posted on: July 16, 2006

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The problem with working two jobs is, well, working two jobs.

The Bread-and-Butter job that pays the bills and fills my fridge (which for some reason is currently quite empty) and that shall not be talked about too much as I do not want to be dooced, has been, shall we say, hellish lately. I’ve had to do about 3 weeks of work in one week. ‘Nuff said.

The Dessert job (or as my mentor calls it, “your cruise job” which makes it sound more glamourous than it really is) is on top of this. It pays for my vacations.  And I love it. Really. Its such a part of me that when I went cold turkey off it a couple of years ago, I literally felt like part of me was missing. It was a bit of a rough patch until I figured out that it wasn’t the JOB I hated.  It was the recreation aspect and the sense of entitlement people had coming into public community centres.

But there are days where going into the dessert job is not all its cracked up to be. I walked in on Friday, the third-to-last day of doing some apprenticing on a certification, after having pulled out on the stops, worked through lunch hours for two weeks, not getting home before 7:30 for two weeks (and usually more like 8:00) and having my best friend say to me earlier in the day “Why are you IGNORING me????” (to which I replied, if anyone cares, “Go AWAY.”

I got there 15 minutes before beginning. My mentor got stuck in traffic after dealing with his own work problems all day and was almost late. I stuffed a sheaf of papers into his hands and got the class going, all the while thinking “I want to go HOME, and curl up on the sofa with my honey and watch a MOVIE.” I could feel the tears starting to come

Except, then, the candidates for the course? they.got.it. Their swimming strokes were fantastic compared to the previous week.  They were pleasant. They were happy to do what I needed them to do, even though I was grumpy about it.  And I remembered why I was there.

My mentor, after getting changed into appropriate swimming attire came out and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I responded. “I’m breathing now.”

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