Sometimes I just want to throw myself on the floor, have a good old fashioned temper tantrum, yell at my union rep, and just stop being so darn NICE! I want to be able to follow my day planner, hour by hour, take my lunch break, smoke break, and coffee break. I want to renegotiate my contract. I want amendments!
And how about a raise? This is not what I went to school for! (hee, hee, I always think its funny when people strike on that premise. Didn't you go to school so that you could be gainfully employed? Quit your whining!)
And where's my support staff? Where's my janitor? my secretary? my events coordinator? Pierre, the massage guy? Where's the cook? the baker? the candlestick maker? Where's the compensation board? Health and Safety? Where's my company car? My airmiles? Where's my paid holiday time?
Now, I know I'm being ridiculous. I know all the cute stuff about being paid in sloppy kisses and eternal gratitude and warm memories. I know the shtick about choices and the stuff that comes with self-employment. I know the horrer of office politics, whiney people you have to share your coffee breaks with, demanding bosses with sweaty armpits and nasty sweaters. I know the tedium of filing, being the "new girl" for years on end, having a sadistic witch for a supervisor. I know hurriedly packed brown bag lunches consumed in underventilated walk-in closet excuses for staff rooms. I know clock-watching, card-punching, and work evasion tactics.
There's just no clever way to wrap up this little rant about employment. I know I've got it good. I like being my own boss. (well, let's face it, the toddlers are the bosses.....) I really like little people sitting on my lap. I actually like being the flexible daycare lady who rarely says no. I like reading rhymey, silly books for years on end. I love animal crackers and little clothes.
So, my virtual support staff? What say ye? Throw me a bone, would ya?