Appearances
As I have stated in a previous post, my life was not so simple growing up. I wasn't ever really expected to be anything great. People mostly wrote me off as being "damaged" or "having issues." I think it was decided that I was the family fuck up. Filling that position was no easy task, seeing as how my lovely little clan is full of alcoholics, pill poppers, manic depressives and narcissists.
Somewhere along the way I got tired of living as a walking stereo type and cleaned myself up. I enrolled in college and actually did well. I paid my own way, bartending evenings and weekends to cover school bills and other expenses. I worked as a club dancer (not a stripper,) a Bacardi girl, and a restaurant hostess. All these jobs paid cash and counted for nothing on my resume. Upon graduation I worked for a small family company until the bank came knocking.
The day I told my family about my corporate job was one of the proudest days of my life. It was my little fuck you to all of those who had written me off and put me down. No longer was I the comparison to be used by my cousins to make them look better. I was doing things right and I did them on my own.
This past weekend was my grandparents anniversary. I was due to take Friday off. On Tuesday I was told due to a client meeting that I could not, so I requested Monday off instead. This was approved and I changed my travel arrangements so I could still spend time with my family.
4:30PM Friday I was told I couldn't take Monday off.
I did the family thing and listened intently as my grandparents acknowledged how far I had come. They were proud of me as was the rest of my family. I wanted to cry, but could not for fear that the fuck-up title would make a comeback. I bit my cheek to break my emotional concentration and smiled externally when everyone asked how my new job was. I excused myself a day early explaining there was much important work at the office and I had to return to it.
I had non-refundable tickets so I waited in the airport from 4AM looking for a standby flight that would get me to work on time. The company will not refund my money for changing flights.
When I got to work on Monday I was asked to order lunches and clean the pantry.
I guess it's important, I mean someone has to do it...
Somewhere along the way I got tired of living as a walking stereo type and cleaned myself up. I enrolled in college and actually did well. I paid my own way, bartending evenings and weekends to cover school bills and other expenses. I worked as a club dancer (not a stripper,) a Bacardi girl, and a restaurant hostess. All these jobs paid cash and counted for nothing on my resume. Upon graduation I worked for a small family company until the bank came knocking.
The day I told my family about my corporate job was one of the proudest days of my life. It was my little fuck you to all of those who had written me off and put me down. No longer was I the comparison to be used by my cousins to make them look better. I was doing things right and I did them on my own.
This past weekend was my grandparents anniversary. I was due to take Friday off. On Tuesday I was told due to a client meeting that I could not, so I requested Monday off instead. This was approved and I changed my travel arrangements so I could still spend time with my family.
4:30PM Friday I was told I couldn't take Monday off.
I did the family thing and listened intently as my grandparents acknowledged how far I had come. They were proud of me as was the rest of my family. I wanted to cry, but could not for fear that the fuck-up title would make a comeback. I bit my cheek to break my emotional concentration and smiled externally when everyone asked how my new job was. I excused myself a day early explaining there was much important work at the office and I had to return to it.
I had non-refundable tickets so I waited in the airport from 4AM looking for a standby flight that would get me to work on time. The company will not refund my money for changing flights.
When I got to work on Monday I was asked to order lunches and clean the pantry.
I guess it's important, I mean someone has to do it...
posted by selling my soul at 4:19 PM
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