The 50th post is negative
Yesterday was so wonderful. I had a fantastic time playing a show in such a wonderful environment, and on a rediculously gorgeous autumn day. Our set went well, and I was just so happy and proud to know and love people who make such beautiful music (I'm not talking about my thing here, but my friends'). I left feeling absolutely wonderful, just incredibly happy and really and honestly in love with life.
Then I went to work.
I just don't want to get into it at this point. I made decent money, especially for the hours I worked, but I was nearly in tears at several points. It was like instead of a "kick me" sign, someone put a sign reading "crackheads, people without enough money, and drunk people who are humungous assholes for no discernible reason - WELCOME!"
I hated my fares. And hating my fares reminded me of just how incredibly wonderful I'd been feeling at and after the show. And this made me hate my job. And hating my job made me want to just turn the cab in. And wanting to turn the cab in made me hate the company, because there aren't any cabs available to purchase, and upper management (but certainly not the superintendents or dispatchers, who LOVE me) is angry at me for this incident. Which made me hate upper management, as the supers see my self-reporting as demonstrating integrity, a character trait which I've found has done me far more harm than good in this business.
Which made me hate my job even more.
And all of this made me very conscious of the fact that I'd be sleeping alone, and have no one to come home to and snuggle with and kiss and tell stories to. Which reminded me that my job makes the prospects of finding such a someone exceedinly dim. Which made me hate my job more. Which reminded me of the way too many gorgeous, intelligent, and caring women I know - all of whom, of course, have either boyfriends or no interest in someone who works nights and weekends. Which made me hate my job even more.
This made me think about getting a new job, except for the fact that this dead-end job pays literally twice as much as any other dead-end job I could get, and allows me to save to go back to college. A realization which made me hate my job more. But I can't get a girlfriend to spend all the extra money on, or go out with my friends, because... I have a fucked up schedule. Which made me ready to burn the garage to the fucking ground.
The guy at 4:45 in the morning who had his 8 pieces of luggage in the driveway along with his wife and two small children spilling yogurt all over themselves and said "gosh, I forgot to ask for a mini-van, didn't I?" has no idea how close he came to death.
So now you know why so many cab drivers are misanthropic troglodytes with copies of "Death Hunt" that may or not in fact actually be porn in their glove compartments: because they are sad and lonely and sexually frustrated and feeling sorry for themselves. And you, knowingly or not, have likely just done something to fuck with them.
I'm listening to So now, and things are not quite so bad. I think I may have driven myself to on-line dating, which seems like a good place for misanthropic troglodyte cab-drivers with some youth and looks left to meet their female equivalents.
(Actually, our female equivalents are strippers, and they don't take out on-line personals unless they're looking for some side business. I guess I'm better off just continuing to hope that the woman of my dreams will magically knock on my door at 3 AM some Wednesday morning)
If you haven't quite picked up on it yet, tonight was the first night I've ever truly hated my job.
Then I went to work.
I just don't want to get into it at this point. I made decent money, especially for the hours I worked, but I was nearly in tears at several points. It was like instead of a "kick me" sign, someone put a sign reading "crackheads, people without enough money, and drunk people who are humungous assholes for no discernible reason - WELCOME!"
I hated my fares. And hating my fares reminded me of just how incredibly wonderful I'd been feeling at and after the show. And this made me hate my job. And hating my job made me want to just turn the cab in. And wanting to turn the cab in made me hate the company, because there aren't any cabs available to purchase, and upper management (but certainly not the superintendents or dispatchers, who LOVE me) is angry at me for this incident. Which made me hate upper management, as the supers see my self-reporting as demonstrating integrity, a character trait which I've found has done me far more harm than good in this business.
Which made me hate my job even more.
And all of this made me very conscious of the fact that I'd be sleeping alone, and have no one to come home to and snuggle with and kiss and tell stories to. Which reminded me that my job makes the prospects of finding such a someone exceedinly dim. Which made me hate my job more. Which reminded me of the way too many gorgeous, intelligent, and caring women I know - all of whom, of course, have either boyfriends or no interest in someone who works nights and weekends. Which made me hate my job even more.
This made me think about getting a new job, except for the fact that this dead-end job pays literally twice as much as any other dead-end job I could get, and allows me to save to go back to college. A realization which made me hate my job more. But I can't get a girlfriend to spend all the extra money on, or go out with my friends, because... I have a fucked up schedule. Which made me ready to burn the garage to the fucking ground.
The guy at 4:45 in the morning who had his 8 pieces of luggage in the driveway along with his wife and two small children spilling yogurt all over themselves and said "gosh, I forgot to ask for a mini-van, didn't I?" has no idea how close he came to death.
So now you know why so many cab drivers are misanthropic troglodytes with copies of "Death Hunt" that may or not in fact actually be porn in their glove compartments: because they are sad and lonely and sexually frustrated and feeling sorry for themselves. And you, knowingly or not, have likely just done something to fuck with them.
I'm listening to So now, and things are not quite so bad. I think I may have driven myself to on-line dating, which seems like a good place for misanthropic troglodyte cab-drivers with some youth and looks left to meet their female equivalents.
(Actually, our female equivalents are strippers, and they don't take out on-line personals unless they're looking for some side business. I guess I'm better off just continuing to hope that the woman of my dreams will magically knock on my door at 3 AM some Wednesday morning)
If you haven't quite picked up on it yet, tonight was the first night I've ever truly hated my job.
posted by Crabbie at 7:36 AM
2 Comments:
I feel ya, Crabbie. I think a lot of cabbies share the long, dark night of the soul. But keep on keepin' on.
This from your new "anonymous enemy"...
LOL! This was a very good read! I did bring myself to read more!:)
Keep this in mind...
The places that you do not think of, the times that you do not think are appropriate, are where and when you are most likely to fall in love.
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