You're spaced out on sensation like you're under sedation
My supervisor at work, the young guy who started there less than three years ago and who I trained, was on vacation last week. He determined that I needed to be on site all day while he was gone. Of course, I didn’t need to do anything that I couldn’t have done remotely, but it’s what he does, so it’s what I had to do.
During that week, since the work was fairly slow, I did a lot of thinking. One of the things I noticed was that, apparently, the building sits on a temporal sinkhole. Time moves at a completely different speed there.
Just my luck, the speed wasn’t fast forward.
Business was slow, but there was still mindless stuff to do, so even if there were no actual jobs to work on, I kept busy. I had been busily working away, and from the feel of it, I knew the day must be half over, which for my hours would make it 9:00 a.m. When I looked at the clock, it was only 7:30.
Needless to say, the week passed by extremely slowly, but I made it.
Another thing I thought about, a little more philosophically, was about how much I hate my job. I know, I’ve talked about it before, so that in itself is nothing new. But I was thinking about it in relation to the rest of my life, and it’s a huge contrast.
I’m not saying that I’ve lived a charmed life, by any means. On the contrary, my life has been a fairly bumpy one, paved with parents who tended to be critical of me, other bad jobs, bad marriages (plural), repressive religion, etc.
But I got out of the religion almost ten and a half years ago, and out of the last bad marriage a little over seven years ago. Since then, my life has been much happier. Finding Linda was just the icing on the cake. The woman who turned out to be my perfect complement lived just four miles away from me!
And to find that we even have corresponding likes and dislikes, similar dreams and ambitions, including traveling and/or moving to Europe, is almost beyond my comprehension. So, despite the general unhappiness of my first fifty or so years, my life now, finally, is quite happy.
Except for my job.
Let me state again that I am grateful for the job. When so many people have lost their means of support over the past year due to shut-downs related to COVID, I’m thankful that I was able to keep mine.
But my job is still, to me at least, the most mind-numbingly boring and tedious thing I could possibly spend one third of my day doing! However, I wondered how much of that feeling is because of the contrast with the rest of my life. Does it just seem worse because I am so happy the rest of the time?
You might not realize how happy I really am since I tend to write like a grumpy curmudgeon. But let me assure you, that’s just my author persona, my psyche de plume. I’m not really like that.
Anyway, I didn’t come up with a conclusion to those ponderings. My job really is boring and tedious, but I don’t know if it would be more tolerable if the rest of my life sucked. And I don’t want to find out. I’m happy sharing my plans and dreams with the love of my life, and working towards making them come true.
Eventually, we’ll find ourselves walking down a cobblestone street in Lisbon or Madrid, or maybe in the south of France or Italy, and the twenty-five years I spent at that job will just be a distant memory, a fleeting blip in my bumpy past.
And wouldn’t you know it, the time warp there probably will be fast forward.