May 23rd, 2018

You owe me a dollar from a previous post.

The job is still going. Almost quit the first night, but got back on the saddle the second night and now moving toward a third. It’s a really easy job and I was just complaining because my feet were killing me. Just using muscles I haven’t used in awhile.

Essentially,  I’m maintenance. I sweep this soda warehouse for 8-12 hours while guys zip around on electric pallet jacks picking orders. With the summer upon us, soda is big business (apparently) and there is lots of work. No, I mean LOTS of work. People who start this job usually quit and they seek more people all the time. They were surprised I came back but I realize my job is the ultimate in simplicity and I thank God for it. I truly thank the lord for it. He knew this was the job I needed and mentally could do. WITHOUT Zoloft.

You know my aversion to people, right? With this job, I come in and sweep the floor. Maybe even mop here and there. I don’t have to talk to anyone. The full-time workers there have quota’s to make (so many pallets of soda on trucks by a certain time). They get paid per pallet or something like that so they have no time to talk to me. I clean up spills and sweep the broken pallet wood from the floor so they don’t get slowed down.

Easy fucking peesy. $12.00 an hour to sweep floor, plus time and a half for overtime and they often ALWAYS go 12-16 hours a night.

Weekends off.

Like I said, at first, I was going to quit because I was a pussy. My feet were swollen the first night. My legs were killing me. I was looking at getting out at 4am and I was bitching like a bitch. Drove home almost crashing the car I was so sleepy.

After a personal struggle that morning to stop being a pussy, I decided to go back to work the next day and I think it impressed some of the guys. They apparently seen people come and go. I hear them talking about people who didn’t come back. I’m even on a “hi” “bye” thing with some of the guys. It’s social baby steps.

At first, I thought my job was non essential. I’m not trying to make my job any bigger than it is, but I was told by a guy last night that he appreciated the work I was doing because it helps him and the other guys out. When there is soda all over the place and wood and the place is a mess, they can’t get the job done fast as they need.

I walk around at my own pace, sweeping like ‘old Leroy’; mopping when I need to mop, picking up cans, emptying trash. My math is bad, but I think I came up with $150-$160 per night for 11 hour shift (after lunch). That’s overtime (time and ½). Five day shifts and I get paid weekly around $750-800 a week. After taxes and child support (grrr) about $500 a week.

Can I live with that? Fuck yes. It’s free money to walk, sweep and shut the fuck up. I’m working out the leg and foot pains which will turn into firm muscle sooner than later (lugging around steel toed shoes all night).

My first check is next week Friday. It’s already Wednesday of my first week. I don’t lead anyone. I don’t need to talk to anyone. Not even management talks to me. I have no responsibilities other than sweeping a damn floor and I was going to quit???? This is why I keep this journal. I need to document my potential fuckery.

Is it a professional job? Like tech support, or working in a law office? No. My pride was hurting a little in the beginning. But it’s money. Legit, bill paying, child support lowering, cash saving, credit paying off cash flow that I’m getting in my pocket for standing on my feet rather than at home playing video games and bitching about how broke I am because nobody is reading my work. I’m not working on ANY projects so money is just going directly to the necessary things of life. Like my children finally.

Except every now and then. On my second paycheck (around the 9th of June), I’m taking my wife down to Savannah. She liked it down there when I was researching for a book I was writing. I’ll be happy to take her knowing it can be ‘my treat’. I’m off weekends so why not.

Still going to school. Still going to take the paralegal classes. 

I’ll push through and adapt to these long hours for a few months before I start it. I couldn’t do it right now if I tried. Way too tired after work. 

The good news is I’m adapting. The first night was hell. The second night was better. Tonight will be a walk in a sore park.