Dear America,
"We either make ourselves happy or miserable.
The amount of work is all the same."
Carlos Castaneda
indeed
speaking of work...this girl has been in throes of adjusting to major life changes, having taken a union job at a local grocery store! Yes, you heard me correctly -- this girl a officially a card carrying member of a union, something I never saw coming, no question.
Whatever.
Having lost my nanny gig at the onset of the pandemic, I had to immediate find employment. And while most companies were forced to work remotely, and even other companies had to entirely close its doors, grocery stores were of the few opportunities available. So yes, I jumped on that like white on rice (available on aisle two, section 12, rows 1 - 4, on the right).
I'm play a minion part within a large corporate chain; I punch in on a time clock upon arrival, going to lunch, returning from lunch, and at the end of the day; I get paid weekly; and after four months of hard labor, must still await the six month mark to be eligible for any benefits. Oh, and I start my day at 3 a.m...pretty much six days a week.
And I strangely love it.
I get up about two a.m. with my french press already filled with the daily grind and only awaiting for the tea kettle to fulfill its duties to get into some hot water. My lunch, breakfast, depending upon how you look at it, is fetched from its overnight chill and placed in a small cooler, while I've popped a bagel in the toaster. It's up and atom and out the door, aiming for about 2:22 each morn (not that I fret if I'm off a wee bit, it just seems to be about the time I make my exit into the night). All in all, this allows me to arrive in the store parking lot in time to enjoy about 15 minutes of sipoing coffee and soaking up the moonshine amidst the abundance of peace and quiet before the hustle bustle of the day shines through and then some.
Truth be told, I think this crazy hour has become my favorite time of day. Just me and God, having a moment all too ourselves. And it is good.
But no rest for the weary, a paycheck doesn't come about once a week for nothing (wait, unless you're on unemployment... bada bump ba). (But we ain't got time to talk about that right now...save for another time and place).
Anywho,
Each day, I hit the ground running, concrete floor and all, from the moment I step foot inside the automatic doors, meeting up with a welcoming committee of a rather brisk temperature, universally recognized as super cold, along with a spattering of night crew, each up to their eyeballs with product lining the aisles, cardboard and sheets of plastic strewn about, with the accompaniment of cheesy canned music bouncing off the walls from produce to the freezers to the deli and back again...nothing escapes this gawd awful collection of tunes that is repeated over and over again, day after day. nothing.
And strangely, I love it.
While at the end of the day, I am often carefully recorded as having clocked five to six miles, walking the store, handpicking grocery orders, with only a half hour lunch in the middle of it. This store takes everything I got out of me, every single day; and proud to say, that after only a few months, my arms and abs and legs are the most toned in years. Can you carry two twelve packs of Coca-Cola under each arm, place them in the cart, only to have to unload, once to a holding bin awaiting pick up, and in the second, to do it all over again to take them to someone's trunk... like multiple times in a day, and still keep standing? Yeah, that's what I thought. It might be said that I should be paying them for the personal training coming free of charge, but I'll never tell. wait, maybe I just did. ah, who are we kidding, it's not like the ole G Thing ever goes viral like the covid, right.
People thank me daily for my service, and I'm like, really? seriously? say what?
um. awkward.
According to me, G, that phrase should only be used for true heroes -- like our service men and women all across the globe, or, perhaps even more timely, our police departments nationwide. ah, yes, indeed, (That would also be a good conversation to have right about now. But, not today. I'll save that for another time, too.)
And even though my department is dealing with some gnarly growing pains these days, I can strangely admit that I still love it. I love it all. The smile under my mask tells it all, I'm sure.
Today's day, here on the old G thing, is simply about making an observation about humanity.
And a scroll to the top of the page will sum it up quite nicely. Castaneda is so right.
We are always at choice, no matter the set of circumstances, to set our attitude straight.
It is the same amount of work to be happy or miserable, indeed, indeed.
How powerful a statement is that?!
I see it play out, at work, every day; those who arrive miserable, stay miserable, and work their misery to the bone day in and day out. I see it play out at work all the time. It's rather exhausting, really, That part of my day I could surely do without.
I can't be bothered with that nonsense. All I want to do is work my ass off, give the people what they want, and go home at the end of the day fully satisfied with a good hard day's work. And besides, I'm just so grateful to have the job in the first place!
In this time of Covid -- amidst the nightly protests for Black Lives Matter -- amidst absurd calls to de-fund the police -- amidst schools moving entire classrooms to online learning -- amidst the turmoil in the headlines -- I feel so blessed to begin my day in the peace and quiet of a parking lot, communing with nature and God and the elements, while all the rest of my community is still resting under the covers in sweet slumber.
For most people, it's a rare occurrence to entertain the night while the rest of the world sleeps.
But for me, I'm lapping it up every twenty four, and strangely, I love it. I'm smiling under my mask right now. wait. not wearing a mask at the moment...now in the sanctity of my home, and sitting here, communing with my blog for the first time in months. Oh, what a joy it is.
Life is strange. It has so many turns, a winding road that leads us this way and that way all the days of our lives. You are just as surprised as I am that this girl has taken a Union job...go figure.
But what is it that I've been saying...oh, right...
strangely, I love it. Indeed, I do.
Not sure when I'll have a chance to come back, but when I do, trust me -- it will be on the heels of eight hours, six miles, four hundred items picked, all beginning at two o'clock in the morning.
two, four, six, eight, who do we appreciate?
A hard day's work.
LOVE it.
Make it a Good Day,
G
speaking of work...this girl has been in throes of adjusting to major life changes, having taken a union job at a local grocery store! Yes, you heard me correctly -- this girl a officially a card carrying member of a union, something I never saw coming, no question.
Whatever.
Having lost my nanny gig at the onset of the pandemic, I had to immediate find employment. And while most companies were forced to work remotely, and even other companies had to entirely close its doors, grocery stores were of the few opportunities available. So yes, I jumped on that like white on rice (available on aisle two, section 12, rows 1 - 4, on the right).
I'm play a minion part within a large corporate chain; I punch in on a time clock upon arrival, going to lunch, returning from lunch, and at the end of the day; I get paid weekly; and after four months of hard labor, must still await the six month mark to be eligible for any benefits. Oh, and I start my day at 3 a.m...pretty much six days a week.
And I strangely love it.
I get up about two a.m. with my french press already filled with the daily grind and only awaiting for the tea kettle to fulfill its duties to get into some hot water. My lunch, breakfast, depending upon how you look at it, is fetched from its overnight chill and placed in a small cooler, while I've popped a bagel in the toaster. It's up and atom and out the door, aiming for about 2:22 each morn (not that I fret if I'm off a wee bit, it just seems to be about the time I make my exit into the night). All in all, this allows me to arrive in the store parking lot in time to enjoy about 15 minutes of sipoing coffee and soaking up the moonshine amidst the abundance of peace and quiet before the hustle bustle of the day shines through and then some.
Truth be told, I think this crazy hour has become my favorite time of day. Just me and God, having a moment all too ourselves. And it is good.
But no rest for the weary, a paycheck doesn't come about once a week for nothing (wait, unless you're on unemployment... bada bump ba). (But we ain't got time to talk about that right now...save for another time and place).
Anywho,
Each day, I hit the ground running, concrete floor and all, from the moment I step foot inside the automatic doors, meeting up with a welcoming committee of a rather brisk temperature, universally recognized as super cold, along with a spattering of night crew, each up to their eyeballs with product lining the aisles, cardboard and sheets of plastic strewn about, with the accompaniment of cheesy canned music bouncing off the walls from produce to the freezers to the deli and back again...nothing escapes this gawd awful collection of tunes that is repeated over and over again, day after day. nothing.
And strangely, I love it.
While at the end of the day, I am often carefully recorded as having clocked five to six miles, walking the store, handpicking grocery orders, with only a half hour lunch in the middle of it. This store takes everything I got out of me, every single day; and proud to say, that after only a few months, my arms and abs and legs are the most toned in years. Can you carry two twelve packs of Coca-Cola under each arm, place them in the cart, only to have to unload, once to a holding bin awaiting pick up, and in the second, to do it all over again to take them to someone's trunk... like multiple times in a day, and still keep standing? Yeah, that's what I thought. It might be said that I should be paying them for the personal training coming free of charge, but I'll never tell. wait, maybe I just did. ah, who are we kidding, it's not like the ole G Thing ever goes viral like the covid, right.
People thank me daily for my service, and I'm like, really? seriously? say what?
um. awkward.
According to me, G, that phrase should only be used for true heroes -- like our service men and women all across the globe, or, perhaps even more timely, our police departments nationwide. ah, yes, indeed, (That would also be a good conversation to have right about now. But, not today. I'll save that for another time, too.)
And even though my department is dealing with some gnarly growing pains these days, I can strangely admit that I still love it. I love it all. The smile under my mask tells it all, I'm sure.
Today's day, here on the old G thing, is simply about making an observation about humanity.
And a scroll to the top of the page will sum it up quite nicely. Castaneda is so right.
We are always at choice, no matter the set of circumstances, to set our attitude straight.
It is the same amount of work to be happy or miserable, indeed, indeed.
How powerful a statement is that?!
I see it play out, at work, every day; those who arrive miserable, stay miserable, and work their misery to the bone day in and day out. I see it play out at work all the time. It's rather exhausting, really, That part of my day I could surely do without.
I can't be bothered with that nonsense. All I want to do is work my ass off, give the people what they want, and go home at the end of the day fully satisfied with a good hard day's work. And besides, I'm just so grateful to have the job in the first place!
In this time of Covid -- amidst the nightly protests for Black Lives Matter -- amidst absurd calls to de-fund the police -- amidst schools moving entire classrooms to online learning -- amidst the turmoil in the headlines -- I feel so blessed to begin my day in the peace and quiet of a parking lot, communing with nature and God and the elements, while all the rest of my community is still resting under the covers in sweet slumber.
For most people, it's a rare occurrence to entertain the night while the rest of the world sleeps.
But for me, I'm lapping it up every twenty four, and strangely, I love it. I'm smiling under my mask right now. wait. not wearing a mask at the moment...now in the sanctity of my home, and sitting here, communing with my blog for the first time in months. Oh, what a joy it is.
Life is strange. It has so many turns, a winding road that leads us this way and that way all the days of our lives. You are just as surprised as I am that this girl has taken a Union job...go figure.
But what is it that I've been saying...oh, right...
strangely, I love it. Indeed, I do.
Not sure when I'll have a chance to come back, but when I do, trust me -- it will be on the heels of eight hours, six miles, four hundred items picked, all beginning at two o'clock in the morning.
two, four, six, eight, who do we appreciate?
A hard day's work.
LOVE it.
Make it a Good Day,
G
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