Last night I, your friend Behr (Friend Behr), received a telephone call. It was the Secretary General of the Straight White Men's Cultural Centers of America notifying me that I had been nominated to become the next President of said organization, which I have been a member of for many years. Initially, I went there to use their lending library, but then I was handed a number of brochures that seemed very legit to me and I decided to become a member.

Apparently they are impressed with the work I have done in breaking the wills of the lazy slobs I put to work in my North Dakota based coal mine (soon expanding to include a 19th century type textile mill). I am happy to accept the nomination.

I don't know if any of you reading this are members of the Straight White Men's Cultural Centers of America or not. If you are, I would appreciate your support and your vote.

The other day a friend called. We had played phone tag earlier in the day, with him reaching out first, but me making the connection when he answered. During the opening comments he said he had wanted to call to hear what I had to complain about. This evoked a combination of feelings in me, laughter, and then a deeper hurt. After thinking about it for a moment, I told him that I didn't have anything to complain about, and he challenged my statement. Nothing? Nothing at all? No, I said. I have nothing to complain about. My bills are paid, my new job is going as well as a new job can be expected to be, I'm trying to remember if this was the day I found out I was getting a temporary pay increase, or not, but regardless, to have a job at a time like this, much less a full time one where I am learning new things, and people are pretty good to me, is a great achievement and accomplishment. Sometimes I take a look at my life and see where improvements can be made. My sister asked how I can make progress if I am continually starting over, and another friend said she has found greater contentment in accepting things as they are rather than trying to change them.

I wrote down a list of things that I want. Anything and everything my heart desires went on that list, until it filled a page in my notebook, and I will need to start another one. My new thing is trying to identify what problems these purchases might solve, what new problems buying them may create, and is an effort to get me to focus my energy into buying things on that list rather than making compulsive, or impulsive purchases. My emotions have been volatile, and I'm trying to find ways to soothe myself without resorting to an excessive application of retail therapy. Yesterday I received my first paycheck. I stared at the amount thinking that there had to be something wrong, but I had forgotten how much of my previous salary had gone to various types of insurance, and retirement funding. I think I have written about receiving duplicate unemployment monies, yesterday I went online, and sent an email alerting people to this fact. I'm having trouble with this because I want to keep that money when I know it does not belong to me. 

It feels unfair, but the truth is that giving back money that I am not owed is the right thing to do no matter how it may hurt in the moment. I'm grateful that I spotted the error, and transferred the money to a safer place for the eventual day when it was called back. A deep part of my mind wondered, what if the error is never spotted? But even if that could happen, walking around with money that isn't truly mine is not good for me in any way, shape, or form. I would never spend it, knowing that the government can, and will come after those who take advantage of a burdened and inefficient system. People who are much worse off than myself can use that money, and like the old tale that tells of the monkey getting his paw stuck in a jar because he will not let go of the goodies inside, I chose the wiser and higher course of action by proactively letting people know that I was the recipient of what the Monopoly game might describe as a bank error in my favor. It's kind of funny because recently a bank came after me for what they thought were monies I owed, and further investigation proved that this was not actually the case.

The other night I was using my old phone when an app caught my eye. I've wanted a condo for a while now, but either the time, the money, or the place were missing ingredients in the recipe to find Jessica a new home. I had been in one of the nearby condos that the listing showed, so I mostly knew what to expect, but this person (people?) had a slightly different layout, and I was in favor of the new location of the kitchen. The paint was more suited to me, my sister made a comment about it, some of it is quite dated, and not my taste, but the main living area, and bedrooms seem to be colors that I enjoy and like. The bathroom had a strange minty paleness on the walls, and the cool shade seemed at odds with the warmer blues in the bedroom. Previously I might have sent this to my realtor, this time I went straight to a loan officer that I had worked with back in 2018, explaining that I know I may not qualify for a loan at the moment, but I needed a game plan so I can start jumping through the hoops set up on this invisible obstacle course.

One item is staying at my job a longer time, I had guessed that might be coming, but to hear it was unpleasant, irritating, and angered me, however the words of this particular loan officer rang in my ears, he had said that the banks and underwriters were focusing on my income and employment when my credit score was a much better indicator of what type of a risk I represented. Not long ago I forgot to pay my electric bill. I'm not sure how this happened since I was home for approximately 98% of the time, but when I opened the bill, there were two months on there instead of just one. Just for kicks I went online to check my credit score, and astonishingly, it has risen rather than fallen, and I'm at a loss to explain how this appears to be true. I'm not really questioning it as I do tend to be the type of person who pays bills in a timely fashion, in my new quest for acceptance I have not tried to implement any sort of new system, I told myself that sometimes people forget to pay bills, forgave myself for the relatively minor incident that did not cause any severe degree of harm to anyone, and dutifully paid my late charges instead of asking for them to be dropped.

There are things about my job that I do not like, other things that I do, today I feel compelled to address the racism and class issues present there. Interviews are a silly way to go about determining whether a person is a good fit for a particular position in my opinion. Both parties are on their best behavior, and it's a very contrived and sometimes formulaic affair of routine questions with stock answers unless one, or both parties chooses to forgo the time honored tradition of grilling the applicant, or being cagey with clever responses. I try to be myself, thankfully I am blessed with a large amount of self confidence in these issues, and generally interview well. I left the office that day feeling as if I had nailed the interview, and that was validated when I received an actual job offer. They are happy with me, I'm pretty happy with them, and generally speaking things have gone quite smoothly considering the typical adjustment period employees and organizations make when a new person arrives.

While I fully understand that there are currently health and safety reasons for keeping the radius around us small and tight, I'm bothered by the remarks, and general airs of disdain and supremacy that pepper conversations, if they can be called that. It's also interesting to be on the other side of the phone after I tell a customer that we are not traveling to their zip code due to the current public health crisis. One woman told me that her home was quite large, and that she and her husband would undoubtedly have many projects for us in the future, but I was not swayed. I have probably been able to envision the imaginary carrot another has dangled in front of me, and view it much like the shiny poisoned apple offered to Snow White by the cunning witch. She was none too happy with me, but I came from a scheduling job, and one of the pieces of advice I pulled from that came to me by the man who was ultimately given my job after it was taken from me. He said that it is my schedule, I am in charge, and not to let people bully or threaten me, which is really what this woman was trying to do. Wealth will only do so much to protect someone from this virus.

I took on too much too soon, and now am trying to dial back, scale back, whatever you want to call it. I feel like we could use more people, a narrower scope, and a better way to define roles, but I am also very new, and treading carefully until I learn more about the personalities in power. For the most part I am super thankful for the woman I work with most closely. We are a good team, and we have our differences, especially politically, but manage to bring different strengths to the table which has been great for our team, and us too. The other day she forgot her lunch, and I shared some of mine with her. We have a newer employee who is a very interesting person, I said a thing or two about him, and suggested that praise and kindness be utilized in abundance. Without getting too much off track, he seems to need an amount of coaching that none of us are interested in, or equipped to provide. He's very intelligent in certain areas, and super reliable which is a great comfort to me given the contrast between one of our other employees who is brilliant, yet wildly inconsistent as far as punctuality and attendance are concerned.

Owning a business is no small chore, but it is also the choice one has made, just as it is a choice I have made to accept a position there. There are days when I miss my old job so much it feels like the pain is too much to bear. I miss the wide open spaces, the abundance of windows, the beauty of the environmentally kind materials that were used during construction. I miss the guy who sat behind me, the people in the parts department, the shop employees, and I sat in a sad crumpled heap sobbing about past opportunities that were lost to me out of my own fear. The day that a wrench was thrown, I could have had more emotional support and comfort from the person I wanted it from, but neither he, nor I, knew how to take those first steps. It was as if we were on a bridge only the two of us could see, and neither of us was willing, or able to make that first bid for connection. It hurts me when others I love and care about are hurting, and for the first time I am better able to see his position. He probably didn't want to assume anything, and that actually makes me respect him more. 

I'm tired. Exhausted. New job, virus still lingering over us, eventually we will probably all be exposed, normal is simply a setting on a washing machine. I don't fit in at work, and thankfully I am not the person, or people saying things that make me wonder how bigotry, racism, and classism prosper. It's mind blowing to sit at a desk listening to others say what they are. I won't repeat any of it, none of it is nice, it's not funny, and I keep thinking about how over time, and with continued exposure, I might become more like them rather than them adopting more of my tolerance.

*****

I no longer see the faces that are so familiar to me today. It's been almost a year since I first walked into that place as an employee, and I hope I will always remember the tremendous love, and outpouring of support that I received when I was there. I don't understand why this had to happen, it is difficult to accept the fact that I may never be able to see, hear, hug, or laugh with people I saw on a work day basis, people whose hurts and fears I felt as keenly as my own, and those who seemed standoffish at first, as I'm sure I did to many. I'll never forget the guy I met in the parking lot, just a random chance encounter, one of us walking west, while the other continued on eastward. It was everything, it was nothing. I want to go back to eating my lunch on the alignment rack, to the shouting matches we had in the shop, to the times when we were reprimanded for our faults in the tantrums that took place, and the solidarity we felt when customers were ridiculous, management was a joke, and we banded together through the best of times as well as the worst moments of frustration, tears, and moments of triumph over them.

As I look back upon the past, not this job, but the one that went before that, and the one the preceded that, and the one I barely remember because I was there for four days, and the job of my dreams at Miller Park, I'd like to think that I left my organizational stamp on those places. As if they are better in some small, possibly immeasurable way, simply because I was there. I would have more money had I not given away so many paintings, and there are times when I reflect on that, but only momentarily. I wonder if the things I did are gone, replaced by posters of women wearing next to nothing to help big tool companies sell more screwdrivers, wrenches, and other merchandise. When I worked at night, the last thing I would do was walk through the shop, all the way down to the very end, to the last lift in the final row, and I'd stop for a moment, and think about what a privilege it was to have art hanging in places where people couldn't possibly miss it, only some did. A friend told me that others would think of me when they saw those pieces, and I pray that if they do, the memories are kind to them, and me.

The skies are just as bright and as blue, but they don't seem the same without you. I miss the jokes I rolled my eyes at when they were cracked, I was often the only woman around, and I was both a part of the group, and apart of the group, and I felt that respect when someone moved out of my way when I was coming through just as I felt it in another way when another man chose to stand in my way and threw a comment the whole group heard when I walked past. It's not easy to hold your own, to be new, to not know things that they took for granted, and to see their hesitation and admiration grow when they were faced with my job duties, things that often seemed simple and smooth because I was in charge of my work environment, and conducted myself profesionally (for the most part). I'm sad, I'm angry, I'm lonely, I wish I could feel arms around me, hear the timbre of certain voices, even the people I didn't care for seem more lovable now. But I can only go forward, and no matter how hard the new job is that way, it's good for me too. Perhaps one day our paths will cross again, until then, you be you, I'll be me, and that truth will continue, to set us both free.

Xoxo,

J

 

  1. I was going to write a poem,
  2. but nothing seems to matter
  3. anymore...

 

 

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.