To Change or not to Change… September 17, 2008

“Why do I have to go to work” Viviva whined as she made a slow exit from her bed. Her morning prayer and devotion sessions were done a long time ago. As the days went by, her bitterness over her job situation grew stronger. Who would want to wake up every morning and go to a job they couldn’t stand? Well, at first glance it looked like Vivica Phelps did. She hated her Customer Service Manager position. She worked for a large, but privately owned insurance company and hated every moment of it. Even more than she loathed her bothersome customers, she loathed her quick-tempered, worrisome, and unappreciative micromanager of a boss. She couldn’t stand the forty minute drive it took to get from her home in Northeast, DC to her boring office in the small Maryland town of Edgewater. But it wasn’t like she had a choice. She needed to work. She had a home to pay for. She had a brand new Jeep Cherokee to foot the bill for. And she had a twelve year old daughter who was constantly begging for cash.

Vivica was a CSM by day, but she was an aspiring thespian by night. She loved theatre and back in high school, there wasn’t a school play she didn’t star in. If she was going to wake up every morning to do anything, acting is what she wished it could be. If not acting, then writing, because drama was her life. But trying to launch an acting or writing career was no easy task. It took much time, much patience and a whole lot of prayer and faith. Meanwhile, her recurring nightmare of being a customer service manager forever was beginning to come true. At thirty two years of age, she desperately wished for a way out.

“Laelani! Wake up!” Vivica yelled, as she walked down the hall to her daughter’s bedroom. She turned the knob to her door, but as usual, it was locked.

“Mom, I’m awake!” Laelani said. But the sleepiness in her voice convinced Vivica that she hadn’t been awake for long.

“Yeah, right” Vivica said. “What did I tell you about locking this door, Laelani? If something happens and I need to get in, well, you’re going to be out of luck. The next time this door is locked, I’m taking it off the hinges.” But even as she said that she knew it wasn’t true. Vivica was full of empty promises. Promises made to others, and definitely, promises made to herself.

“Okay, mom,” Laelani said, and Vivica could tell she was tired of the ‘don’t lock your door at night’ speech. Laelani didn’t believe for a second that Vivica would do anything to punish her.

“Don’t just tell me okay, Laelani. I don’t want you locking this door at night anymore. Nothing is going to come after you! Now get showered and dressed. Get some breakfast and hurry so we can head out. You cannot be late for school, and I cannot be late for work!”

“Okay mom,” Laelani said.

“By the time I head downstairs you’d better be right behind me.”

“Okay mom, I get it,” Laelani said.

Vivica sighed as she headed back to her own bedroom, and into her bathroom. She ran the water in the shower. It would take a while for the water to reach the temperature she desired, so as usual, she first brushed her teeth, washed her face and let her hair down.

Having a Hawaiin mother and an African-American father had given her the most beautiful long, curly hair, which she opted to wash every single day and wear in its natural curly state. She never did anything different to her hair, and the revelation of that irked her. She was tired of being so predictable. It was all her life had become; from the menial tasks like getting ready in the morning to the redundancy of her career. Despite her dream of becoming a writer and actress, she continuously found herself in jobs that had nothing to do with those goals. She continuously found herself doing the same thing over and over again, yet wishing somehow that things would, out of the blue, turn out differently. Well, she was insane, and she knew it.

“Mom!” Laelani said, bursting into the bathroom uninvited.

“What?” Vivica said, startled and annoyed.

“Can I borrow your blow dryer?”

“Okay, I just bought you your own blow dryer, Laelani.”

“Okay, first of all, you bought me a cheap blow dryer that makes my hair frizzier than anything. Second of all, because it’s cheap, it doesn’t even get that hot! And all the teeth on the comb are broken. I cannot use that thing.”

“Well, my dryer cost me over one hundred dollars. You think I’m going to lend it to a seventh grader?”

“It would be nice, especially since I’m the one who knows what to do with it. I don’t even know why you bought that dryer because you never do anything to your hair anyway. People are always talking about how pretty our hair is. But I’m the only one who cares to do something with it every once in a while.”

“Okay, Laelani. Insulting me will never get you want you want.”

“It’s not an insult, mom. It’s called constructive criticism. We learned about it in our English class yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. We’re doing creative writing right now and we had to exchange papers and do critiques on each other’s work. It’s really fun. Everyone loved my story.”

“Really? What did you write about?”

“Well…I wrote about a woman who wakes up every single morning and asks herself the same question.”

“And what is this question?” Vivica asked, folding her arms. Her daughter was far too grown for her age.

“Well…she asks herself, at the top of her lungs, in the most annoying whiney voice ever, ‘Whyyy do I have to go to wooork?”

Laelani busted out laughing, and even though Vivica laughed along, she was so embarrassed. “Tell me you didn’t write about that for real,” she told Laelani.

“Yup. And everyone loved it. It’s the beginning of a short story,” Laelani said.

Vivica was silent a few seconds, and then she asked, “So what will happen to this woman in the end?”

“Well…I’m thinking she’ll have a dream. A dream of what life will be like if she never went to work again. She and her daughter will go broke, eventually. They’ll get kicked out of their nice city home. They’ll be living in the park with the rest of the homeless people. They’ll be eating out of trashcans and begging people for spare change. It’ll be a really ugly scene. In the end, the woman will wake up and be thankful that she even has a job to go to, because so many people don’t. She’ll never ask that question again. The story will end with the woman saying, ‘I can’t wait to go to work’!”

Vivica was frozen. She knew her daughter was writing a story about her life. But she didn’t like how it ended. She was thankful for her job, yes, and the end of Laelani’s story was fine for what it was. Fiction. But in real life, Vivica needed to make some moves.

“Laelani. What if the woman had a dream to fulfill?”

“A dream? What dream?” Laelani asked.

“Say she wanted to be an actress, or a writer. Say she had a dream of what it would be like to fulfill her dream, and in the end she decides to stop being afraid…and go for it.”

“Mom, please,” Laelani said, laughing. “My story can only be one page. That’s like…a whole novel. Plus, what are the odds of that ever happening? If that’s the woman’s dream, then she needs to wake up fast.”

“Okay, fine. Shoot down my idea then,” Vivica said, chuckling. Bit deep inside, she was a bit hurt. Right there, without even knowing it, her daughter shot down her dreams.

“Well, can I borrow the blow dryer or not?” Laelani asked.

No, Vivica thought. I have to make some moves. And fast, she thought. And she figured she may as well start on her hair.

“Mom what are you doing?” Laelani asked, as Vivica pulled her blow dryer out from under the sink and plugged it in the outlet.

“I’m going to blow dry my hair. For the first time in…well for the first time in a long time.”

“But what about me?”

“Your hair looks fine Laelani. It’s like you said. I need to start caring about what I do with my hair every once in a while.”

“Okay…” Laelani said, looking confused. “But what about your shower? You do know the water is running, right? If you do your hair now it’s just going to frizz back up.”

“How about you stop worrying about me and take your own shower, in your own bathroom? Get dressed, eat your breakfast and wait for me to take you to school.”

“Okay, mom. Fine. What is your problem? Are you mad I didn’t like your story idea?”

“Laelani, leave. Now.”

“Boy are you crazy,” Laelani said, rolling her eyes.

Yeah, I am crazy, Vivica thought. She was crazy enough to believe that she could actually make it successfully as an actress in theatre, let alone a writer of theatre. Who would perform in her plays? Where would she find the money to fund a production? Who would even come out to see these creative works of arts?

She made good money as a Customer Service Manager. Sixty thousand dollars a year was good enough to keep her bills paid, keep food on her table, and keep Laelani in that fancy Anne Arundel County private school. But she wasn’t happy, that was the problem. And the bigger problem was that the one thing that could make her happy seemed too far out of her reach to achieve.

This is why she stayed in her current situation; because no sooner than she’d muster up the courage to hope for the better, reality set in and she ended up right back where she started. She knew of people who’d dreamed big and achieved bigger, but could she ever be one of those people? Would she ever have enough faith in herself to believe she could be one of those people? Her disbelief in herself annoyed her. She couldn’t stand herself. She knew everything she had to do to get where she needed to be but she was too afraid of failure. Maybe she was waiting for something to tick. Maybe she was waiting for that argument between her and a customer. The last disagreement between her and Ray, her boss. When would she come to terms with the fact that her dreams could be achievable if she only worked hard to achieve them? How fed up with her current situation did she have to be before she decided to make some moves?

Too Late May 29, 2008

“Marleigh woke up.”

“What?”

It was nearly three o’clock in the morning and Patrick wasn’t sure he heard his mother in law, Yvonne, correctly.

“Patrick, Marleigh’s woken up from the coma.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, he thought, and other than that he was speechless. How do you respond to someone telling you that your wife has awaken from a five year coma? Patrick looked over at the place where his wife used to sleep and he shook his head. He had moved on. He wasn’t going to put his life on pause when he had no way of knowing the future. Right now he was in that same bed with another woman. It was the woman he had fallen in love with, and he no plans of turning back. He was not taking the news well.

“Patrick, are you there?”

“Yes, Yvonne. I’m still here.”

“You don’t seem too excited,” Yvonne said.

If only you really knew, he thought, but he couldn’t tell Yvonne that.

“Yvonne, it’s just so early in the morning, and I’m very tired, okay? I’ll visit Marleigh at the hospital tomorrow.”

“Do you remember the room number?”

Patrick knew Yvonne asked that question to be smart. She knew he had stopped visiting Marleigh a long time ago. He had stopped hoping for the best a long time ago, but again, he couldn’t tell Yvonne that.

“Refresh my memory about that room number Yvonne.”

“She’s in room 320.”

“Thanks. I’ll be there tomorrow,” Patrick said, and he hung up the phone before Yvonne could say anything else.

“Baby, what’s going on?”

Patrick looked into the eyes of his new love; Samantha Donaldson. Her hazel eyes shined beautifully against her caramel brown skin. She had irresistible lips and Patrick couldn’t stand it when his weren’t touching them. She had dimples as deep as the sea and when she smiled, he nearly melted at the sight. Her body was strong, toned, and firm, yet plump in all the right places. Her skin was spotless and smooth as silk. He loved to touch her, feel her, caress her, hold her. There was no way he was letting Samantha go.

“Baby! Stop gawking at me and tell me what’s happening. Who was that calling here at almost three o’clock in the morning?”

Samantha was sassy as ever, but Patrick loved that quality. He saw her sassiness as confidence, assertiveness, strength, and overall, sexiness. Samantha knew his wife was comatose. He had nothing to hide from her. But Patrick couldn’t find the strength to tell Samantha that Marleigh was now awake.

“Patrick, who is Yvonne, and what is it that she told you?”

Patrick didn’t respond. He wished with all his might that he was dreaming. He wished his whole life was a dream, and that hopefully, he’d wake up from it soon.

“Baby, what’s going on tomorrow? Who’s in the hospital?”

Patrick would’ve been told Samantha to shut up on a normal day. But today was in no way normal. Today, he’d received the ultimate shocker.

“Baby, talk to me! What is going on?”

Patrick still had no words. He turned the switch on his lamp, buried himself under the covers and closed his eyes.

“Whatever,” Samantha said. She too hid under the covers, but was still making comments under her breath.

What am I going to do? Patrick asked himself, and he asked that same question over and over again.

Finally, he sighed and said, “Marleigh woke up.”

“What?” Samantha said, and she shot straight up.

“That’s the same thing I said,” Patrick said. He sat up and turned the light back on.

“Why did she wake up?” Samantha said, in an ‘aww, man’ type of way.

“I go to see her tomorrow.”

Samantha stared at him for a while, and then she said, “Baby, what does that mean for us?”

Patrick honestly didn’t know. But he was afraid to tell Samantha that.

“Pat, baby, your silence is killing me,” Samantha said.

“Don’t ask me that, Sam. Marleigh’s car accident left her in a coma and that’s not her fault. I can’t just throw our relationship on her like that. She needs some time to…”

“To what? Pat I live here, honey. It’s not my fault that your wife woke up from her coma, and it’s not my fault that you and I met, dated and fell in love. So what, am I out of a home now? Do I lose you now? Huh?”

“Sam, I’m not saying any of that. And if it’s anybody’s fault that we met, dated and fell in love, then it’s mine. I knew my wife’s condition, and it was my choice to move on and pursue you. I’m sorry baby, okay?”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Pat. Where does this situation leave us?”

“It leaves you here, and it leaves me figuring out how the hell I’m going to deal with this mess.”

“So what you’re saying is, you’re going to leave me here, and you’re going to go somewhere else and figure this mess out?”

“Okay, let me rephrase. I’m going to stay here with you, and figure this mess out. Here. In this house.”

“And where will Marleigh go?”

More silence. Patrick couldn’t tell his own wife that she couldn’t move back in. But like so many other things, he couldn’t tell Samantha that.

“Once again, sweetie, the silence is killing me.”

“I’m sorry, Sam. But I…I can’t tell Marleigh that she can’t move back into her own home. You know that wouldn’t be right.”

“It would be right for me, though,” Samantha said.

Patrick looked at Samantha like she was crazy. He laid back down into the bed and rolled over, facing away from Samantha. He wasn’t trying to hear her opinion.

“Come on, Pat! I know it’s not Marleigh’s fault she got in that accident, but baby, please. You had to move on. What were you supposed to do?  Wait until she died to move on? Some people stay in a coma for years. If no one pulls the plug on them, that is. You had to move on. There was no telling whether or not she was ever going to recover. She needs to understand that. Let her go live with the Yvonne person you were talking to.”

Patrick turned back around and looked at her, but the crazy expression hadn’t left his face. He said, “I want you to listen to yourself Sam.”

“And will she even remember you?” Sam asked, clearly ignoring Patrick.

“Sam, that’s enough. Look, let’s go back to bed. Tomorrow I’m going to visit Marleigh in the hospital. Perhaps she’ll remember me. Perhaps she won’t. But I need to be there.”

After what seemed like an hour of silence, Samantha said, “Fine.”

Patrick turned the light back off and laid back down in the bed. He closed his eyes, and this time, he actually went to sleep; but not for long. His dreams were rudely interrupted with visions of the confrontation between him and the two ladies in his life.

In his dream, he flat out told Marleigh that he’d moved on. In his dream he whips the divorce papers from out of nowhere and forces Marleigh to sign. Afterwards, right then and there, he gets on bended knee and proposes marriage to Samantha. Marleigh is left standing in the background, crying uncontrollably. All Patrick can do is laugh and tell her to pack her things, followed by the infamous, “and get out.”

But Marleigh doesn’t pack a thing. Instead, she runs into the kitchen and comes back out with a carving knife, and demands for Samantha to take the ring off her finger. She tells Samantha that the only person that’s leaving the house is her.

Samantha was frightened, but all Patrick did was laugh. Marleigh couldn’t think about blood without feeling dizzy, so Patrick saw no need to take her seriously; until she charged after them.

The three were in the living room, and in order to get out, they had to fight their way past Marleigh. But she was swinging that eight inch carving knife everywhere she could reach, and that left Patrick and Samantha afraid of what would get sliced in the process, so they surrendered.

Samantha removed the engagement ring, and Marleigh told Patrick revoke the offer of engagement. Patrick refused. He told her he couldn’t do it, because he was in love with Samantha, and wanted to marry her. Marleigh got closer to him, and she told him again to revoke the offer. But again, Patrick said no.

“Patrick,” Samantha yelled as Marleigh raised the knife in the air with both hands.

Both Patrick and Samantha closed their eyes and braced themselves for what they knew would be the inevitable: their deaths.

All of a sudden they heard a grunt, and on top of them fell Marleigh. She’d taken that knife and stabbed herself, and that was that last thing Patrick dreamt. He woke up sweating, with tears in his eyes. He was breathing fast. He was nearly hyperventilating.

Samantha got up from her side of the bed and yelled, “Oh, come on, Pat. What is wrong with you? You tell me to go back to bed, and now you’re sitting here having what? An asthma attack?”

“Sam, shut up? Okay? Just shut the hell up!”

“Okay, no he didn’t,” Samantha said, walking towards him. “Let me tell you something, sweetie. You may have been able to walk over your hope-to-be ex-wife, but you’re not going to have the same luck with me.”

“Sam, get off my back, okay. I have a lot to worry about right now. You could at least try to understand.”

Samantha backed off, but just a little. “I’m sorry, baby. But this situation is stressful for me too. You might…decide you want her back, and I…I can’t deal with that. I don’t want to deal with that. So try to understand my frustration too.”

Patrick understood, alright. The right thing to do was take his wife back and serve Samantha her walking papers. But his heart was telling him to do the opposite of that. Frustration was an understatement. There were no words to describe the impasse he’d come to.

“Baby, you don’t have anything to worry about. I love you.” He took Samantha in his arms and kissed her softly on the lips.

Samantha looked up at him and said, “I love you too, baby,” and then she rested her head on his shoulder, and held him tighter than she ever held him before.

Patrick sighed. He didn’t know why he told Samantha she didn’t have anything to worry about, because at this point, he just didn’t know if that was true.

Changes, Part II May 27, 2008

“So, how was the job interview?”

“Regina, it went so well! Mr. McKinley offered me the job on the spot!”

“Really?”

“What you say it like that for?”

“Say what like what?”

“’Really?’ Like you don’t believe I could get a job like that!”

“Oh, that’s not how I meant it girl, stop trippin’. I’m just shocked to hear that they hired you on the spot. That doesn’t always happen to people. What about the other candidates?”

“What other candidates? It’s all about me now, girl!”

“Don’t get a big head, Candace.”

“Okay girl, what is wrong with you? Are you not happy for me? This is a big step for me, and I have a lot at stake. Like the ability to use hot water. The ability to flip a light switch on and actually see a light come on. And the ability to not have to move back to Richmond with my mamma.”

“Candace, it doesn’t really matter. You’re still gonna be broke. $16.50 an hour is not a lot of money these days.”

“Regina, why are you doing this?”

“Candace, what am I doing?”

Regina wasn’t even looking at Candace. She was moving back and forth, finding things to pick up, clean up, or scrape off. Why was she avoiding her?

“You’re ignoring me, and now you’re acting as if my news isn’t important to you. I have a job now, Miss Regina! We need to be celebrating. You’re acting as if you’re….”

“As if I’m what?” Now Regina was looking at her. Dead in the eyes she was looking at her.

“As if you’re jealous, which I don’t understand. Doesn’t your cousin pay you about the same thing, if not more?”

Regina didn’t say anything; she just kept pretending that she had something to clean. She was rearranging the couch pillows when Candace walked over, snatched the pillow from out of her hand and flung it across the room.

“Regina, come on!” Candace screamed.

“Candace why are you throwing my stuff around like that! Don’t you see me trying to get my living room straight?”

“Your living room is fine, Regina. You need to tell me what’s going on.”

Candace folded her arms and looked Regina straight in the eye.

Try to lie, Candace thought, as she waited for Regina to respond.

“Candace, get out.”

“Regina, what is going on?”

“Candace, I want you to leave my apartment. Now. I don’t want to talk to you right now. When I feel like talking to you, I will talk to you, but right now-”

“Fine, Regina. Fine. I’m out.”

Candace called for her kids, and heard the usual sighs, murmurs and complaints about having to go home.

“Why does Auntie Gina look mad, Mommy?” Misha asked.

“Don’t worry about Auntie Gina, baby. Get your stuff, and let’s just go.”

“Did you make Auntie Gina mad, Mommy?”

“Misha! Leave Mom alone and let’s go.”

Nicholas let himself out of the apartment and marched down the stairs. Boy did he think he was the man of the house; but at ten years old, Candace had news for him. She stepped outside of the apartment and yelled for him to come back up the stairs.

“Nicholas, first of all, you don’t yell at your sister. That’s my job. Second of all, I know you’re not about to step outside of this apartment building without me, and cross that street without me. Are you?”

“Mom, I’m ten years old.”

“And you’ll be staying ten years old forever if you talk back to me again.”

Embarrassed, Nicholas looked down. His friends were outside, and he didn’t want them witnessing his verbal lashing.

“Sorry, Mom,” he said.

“All right now. Let’s go see what we have to eat.”

“Nothing,” Misha said, and the sad thing was, she was right.

“Well, guess what. Mommy got a new job today, and she’s going to be making some really good money.”

“What’s really good?” Nicholas asked.

Candace couldn’t believe what Nicholas had said.

“Are you serious?” she asked him.

“Yes,” he said. Candace just laughed, because her son obviously didn’t realize he was being so rude.

“What’s good money, Mom?”

“Stop asking her that, Nicholas,” Misha said.

“Thank you, Misha. You know Nicholas, it’s not good when a five year old has to teach you a lesson in manners.”

“Mom, is it good money or not? Because sometimes parents tell their kids little white lies because they think those little white lies will make their kids happy, or shut them up, or ease their minds. You get it? Are you one of those parents?”

Why don’t you ask your father that question? Candace thought, but she could never say that to her child. And where does he get off being ten years old and using phrases like, ‘ease their minds?’ Who was this boy hanging around?

“Um, no, son, I’m not that kind of parent. I really will be making some good money. Or at least better money than I’m making now at the community center.”

“Will it be enough to get me an allowance? Say…ten dollars a week?”

“Um, no, son, it won’t,” Candace said, and she left it at that.

“Mommy, will it be enough to get the lights turned back on?”

Candace nearly cried when her daughter asked that question, and she told her daughter that it would be enough. She felt so ashamed.

Who lives like this? Who let’s their children live like this? But at least she didn’t have to ask herself that for long. She’d be starting her new job on Monday and she could hardly wait.

“Mom, we really don’t have anything to eat. We should’ve stayed over Auntie Gina’s. She was ordering Pizza before you came. Can I call her and ask her if we can come back over.”

“No,” Candace quickly said. “You cannot. Grab your things. We’re going to McDonald’s.”

She expected her kids to scream, shout, jump up and down and do cartwheels. But they both stood with their mouths and eyes wide open. Pure, unadulterated shock.

“McDonald’s?” Misha asked.

“Will we have to share? The burger? The fries? The free cup of water? Cause we had to last time.”

“No, babies. Everyone gets their own meal this time.”

Candace grabbed her purse and headed towards the front door. Just as she reached for the knob, she heard a knock, and it startled her.

She looked through the peephole and saw that it was Regina.

“I’m ready to talk,” she said, letting herself in.

“Right now?” Nicholas asked.

“I was about to take the kids to McDonald’s. Wanna come with?”

“My kids have pizza. Look, just meet me at my place when ya’ll get back, all right?”

“All right. Are you sure?”

“She’s sure Mommy, she’s sure!” This time it was Misha’s mouth running.

Candace shot both her children a warning stare.

“She’s right, I’m sure. Take care of your babies.”

“All right, girl. Whatever it is, you know I’m here for you, right?”

“Just go,” Regina said.

They all left her apartment and again, she found herself running to the bus stop, realizing she still had her interview clothes on.

Running was easier this morning. When I didn’t have the kids, she told herself.

They reached the bus stop, and she sighed when she saw there was no where to sit on the bench. All that running in those heels, and she had to stand up. She started praying for the bus to get there soon.

“Hello, Miss. You can have my seat.”

Candace looked down and saw the same man from the bus this morning. The same man who asked her if he could sit down next to her. The same man she had snubbed on the bus was being nice in spite of her snotty attitude, and boy did conviction strike her hard.

“No, that’s okay,” she said. She couldn’t possibly take a seat from this man. She was so embarrassed.

“Please, Miss. Take my seat.”

“Mommy, if you don’t take it. I will!” Misha said. She didn’t even wait for an answer, she just took the seat.

“Go ahead baby. You can have it.”

Candace couldn’t take her eyes off that man. She had disrespected him so badly, and now here he was; being the perfect gentleman.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he said, and Candace still couldn’t take her eyes off him. She had to force herself to look the other way, and she decided that it wasn’t just because he was sweet. He was fine too!

He had smooth, chocolate brown skin, gorgeous brown eyes, and luscious lips. He was clean shaven, well dressed and he smelled like heaven!

He looked like a model from the cover of GQ magazine, and Candace just had to ask him, “What is your name?”

“My name?” he said, startled. Apparently he hadn’t expected her to give him a second thought.

“Yes. What is your name?”

“Quincy. Quincy Middleton. Might I ask what your name is?”

“Her name is Candace Alicia Parsons. And I think she likes you.”

Candace covered up her son’s mouth with her hand. She expected that crap from Misha; but not from the ten year old boy who thought he was a man.

“Is that right?” Quincy asked.

“No, that’s not right,” Candace said. “I don’t even know you.”

“Things could change, mom. Things change everyday. This man looks like he’s got some money.”

Nicholas was working Candace’s nerves, but at least he set her up for her next question to Quincy.

“If he’s got so much money, why is he riding the metro bus?”

“Dang Mom! All in the man’s business!”

Candace playfully pushed her son to the side, though she never took her eyes off Quincy.

“I believe that’s the type of question you ask on a first date.”

“A first date, huh? Wow. I just found out your name five minutes ago.”

“More like one or two minutes ago, Miss Candace Alicia Parsons.”

He walked over to her and pulled out a business card. “Give me a call when you get the chance,” he said.

Candace took the card and studied it, and then she looked up and said, “You’re an attorney?”

Quincy didn’t say a word. The bus had arrived, and all he did was wink at her as he hopped on.

Oh, my life is getting more interesting by the minute, she thought. She and her kids boarded the bus, and headed to McDonald’s; for the first real meal they’d had in weeks.

 

 

 

Letter to Junk Food April 30, 2008

Like most of America, I had a New Year’s Resolution. Well, I’ve this NYR for about four years now. 2008 will be the year that it happens, and so far I haven’t been on a totally horrible weight loss journey. (Weight Loss is my NYR. Among other things, LOL.) I actually have a weight loss blog on VOX: www.divatemple.vox.com. I posted this letter to Junk Food, or, J.F., there, and I wanted to post it here too….for some reason….LOL Here goes.

Dear J.F.,

I must apologize. I have been taking advantage of you for so long – and blaming you for my problems. You know, my severely expanding waistline, my rapid depletion of breath and energy, my thereisnojoyinshoppinganymore-itis… among other things. After a long, hard day I’d race into the grocery store for no other reason than to find you – in any form I felt like having you. I’d wait for minutes in a fast food line just for the satisfaction you bring to my mouth, my tastebuds, my soul.

I’ve tried to avoid you, but my efforts to avoid you haven’t been successful. You’re simply unavoidable, and I can’t take it anymore. Why is it that everywhere I look, there you are, looking back at me? I can’t even drive without seeing the bright flashing lights of one of your numerous fast food chains. In the grocery store, I can’t even check my items out without you gawking at me. I might have a cart filled with healthy choices, but once I lay eyes on you, I’m immediately reminded of all the day’s problems, all my life’s current stresses, and all of a sudden I’m telling myself how much I need you. All of a sudden I’m back to browsing down the aisles. This time, I’m looking for something to calm me down, relieve my stress, and make me happy – and I usually find it in you.

I’ve been treating you like you’re some kind of therapist. You’re not a shrink, J.F., you’re junk food. You’re sugary, fattening, calorie infested, greasy….and oddly and unfortunately, great tasting. You’re not a form of therapy. You’re not a substitution for loving relationships, a remedy for a hard day at work, and you’re not a solution for all of life’s problems. But that’s how myself and others have been using you, either now, or at some point in our lives.

Maybe it’s my lack of decent self-control and will power. My lack of ‘doing the right thing’ maturity. In a perfect world, I’d be able to handle you. But this is no perfect world, and I’m no perfect woman – so I know it’s me with the problem. I just can’t seem to control myself when I’m around you and it’s crazy!

What I should have done is taken more time to get to know you and see what you’re really worth. If I had taken the time to notice your nutritional value – or even care for that matter – then perhaps I wouldn’t have been so committed to this dysfunctional relationship. I’ve been looking for love and peace in all the wrong places, and I don’t think you were put on this earth to live up to my high standards. You were created to be a pleasant, tasty treat, for every once in a while. But I’ve used you, abused you, cursed you, and ignored you. You don’t deserve all that negativity and stress. You’re too good for that.

I mean, it’s not like you can talk, but you still manage to tell people what they’re getting into as soon as they pick you up. But like me; most people who abuse you only want you for one reason – to relive themselves of stress. We’ve all failed to take a deeper look and see what’s really inside you, and what you really have to offer.

J.F., I am seeking to find healing for the disorders listed in the beginning, and there’s only one thing holding me back. J.F., that thing is you. The sad part is, you don’t even know it. You can’t put up a fight when I pick you up off the shelf. You can’t jump out of the french-fry pit, land on the windshield of my Saturn and start screaming, “Please! Don’t do this to yourself!” A big juicy cheeseburger doesn’t remind me how much fat and how many calories are contained in each bite. Sodas don’t remind me how many pounds I’ll save myself from if I avoid them altogether (any guesses on what I’m eating right now?).

My point is, I’ve been mistreating you, and overworking you. Hell, I’m practically putting you through slavery! You should be charging me for all the services you provide for me. I work my anger out on you, my frustration, my stress, even my happiness. Got a raise at work? Let me treat myself to a box of HoHo’s or something…….

J.F., I’m sorry for all of that. This whole time I’ve hated you for what you have done/have been doing to my body and I’m sorry. You’re not my enemy; I am my own enemy. I am overweight, unhealthy and can’t fit into my clothes because of me – not you. Yes; it’s me, not you.

So J.F., I wish I could say this is the end of our friendship; but knowing me and my uncontrollable taste buds, will and emotions……and knowing you and your irresistible (and therapeutic) taste……..I’m just going to keep hope alive and pray for the best. I’m glad I’ve had this opportunity to get this down in writing, though.

J.F., you and I can have an amazing relationship; one that is stable and healthy at that. But if it seems like I am distancing myself, it’s because I am! I need to, in order to make the relationship between us better. Please, don’t get offended, but understand that if our relationship doesn’t get better; it might just cost me my life.

Best Wishes,
Tina

Taking Care Of Business!!! April 25, 2008

I’m just writing in to say that I am sooo proud of myself! I just finished chapter five of my debut novel….currently untitled, LOL! I’m one of those people who will title the novel after it’s done. I just write, and write and write until I’m done. When I used to be a dance teacher, I’d choreograph the very beginning after all the rest of the song was done. There’s something about working backwards, LOL…

I’m not even sure I know where my whole story is going. I have four main characters – each with their own heavy share of drama. It’s going to be a challenge getting them out of their individual predicaments, but I have enough craziness and creativity to figure something out for each of my lovely characters.

I also want to start adding to some of the stories I have posted on here already. Who knows? If I continue to add to these stories, I might actually end up with a nice book of short stories. I may even have a whole novel depending on how dedicated I am to the story!

But I’ve come to realize that I cannot get by on passion alone. Passion is not going to write my books. Because of my passion, I will write the book. But I have to put forth the effort and write! I’m tired of talking about it…it’s time to truly be about it. I am so tired of waking up every morning and going to a job I’m not in love with. Seems to me to be a waste of forty hours a week. Why not take those hours and dedicate them to something far more productive?

I know it will be a while before I’ll be able to make a complete and total living out of writing, but I also believe God that it will happen – because it’s a passion God placed within me – and I have no passion to do anything else but this!

I don’t think God’s going to sit back and watch me fail. He’s going to lead me, guide me, direct me and bless me along the way. Help me with this journey God. Help me to believe in my calling and want it for the reasons you want me to want it. Help me to embrace it and love it more than I already think I do, in Jesus name!

If I get to the point where all I have to do is work a day job part time, then I’m happy, because I’d at least be making some kind of a living out of writing! Part time will turn into no time, and eventually, I’ll be writing FULL TIME! And that’s my ultimate goal.

But nothing will happen if I allow myself to be and stay discouraged. Life comes at you hard. Sometimes you don’t want to do anything but sit back, shut up, and accept the status quo. But God’s given me a higher calling than that. God’s given me something better to do than to accept mediocrity. The beginning of me understanding what I’ve been placed on this earth to do began when I realized and understood that I’m not supposed to be normal. What Christian is supposed to be normal? We’ve all been called to be peculiar. But I had a really strange feeling I was called to be a tad more peculiar than others.

None of us are called to be mediocre. I’m sure God doesn’t appreciate anything halfway done, or half heartedly done. I had a feeling that what I was called to do would take me out of all levels of my comfort zone and push me into some things that I’m afraid to be apart of. Things that are mere dreams….no where close to reality….but are supposed to be.

Maybe I’m making sense, maybe I’m not. But I know what I’ve been called to do and I can’t really sit around and ignore it too much longer. I can’t treat it like it’s some kind of pipe dream. I don’t have anything else going for me and I certainly don’t feel I have a future in sign selling. I’d rather jump into the Bay from off the Bay Bridge!

I mean, there’s nothing wrong with my day job. It’s only a waste of my life because it’s just not for me! Since I know what is for me…I’m going to keep writing until I can scratch project number one off my list and start working on getting an agent and getting my book published.

It just makes sense!

Changes April 15, 2008

“Regina, I can’t tell you enough how grateful I am to you. Thank you so much for watching the kids for me. I really have to go to this job interview.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it. As long as you have my money. I don’t babysit Bébé kids for free.” Candace Parsons knew better than to take her best friend and neighbor, Regina Baker seriously.

“Girl, I don’t even have the job yet. It’s going to be kind of hard to give you any money now,” Candace said, laughing. “Plus, I don’t even have my lights turned back on yet. Whatever money I make first will have to go into my ‘let there be light’ fund!”

“So Candace,” Regina said, with her arms folded, and her head cocked to the side. “Are you trying to tell me you won’t have my money?”

“Regina, girl, stop messing with me. I will pay you back a thousand times when I can afford to.”

Regina made a sad face and said, “I guess I’ll never see my money, then.”

She and Candace laughed and then Candace said, “You just make sure my kids are taken care of. Misha was sick last night with a headache, but she woke up feeling a lot better this morning. Nicholas is in a funk because his daddy was supposed to pick him up last night. But you know how baby daddy’s are, right?”

“Rude, inconsiderate, untrustworthy punks.”

“Yeah. Pretty much. At least the two in my life, anyway.”

“Oh, and mine too,” Regina said, shaking her head. “How long has it been since either of your BD’s seen their children?”

“Well as you know, Terrence is a deadbeat. He calls and makes promises and never follows through. That’s why Nicholas is so upset now. I told Terrence to stop making prmises he knows he won’t keep. It’s breaking Nicholas’ heart.

“Misha’s dad stops by almost every weekend. But he ain’t dropped me no money in a while, and now I know why. Ran into his mamma last month at the Easter Day service. She said Ronald was laid off and was having a hard time finding work. He was making pretty good money as an IT agent. But his mother said that the little community bank he was working for couldn’t afford to keep him around.”

Regina shook her head and said, “That’s the story of our lives, girl. I’m sorry to hear that. Ronald’s a half decent guy. Except that he’s like, fifty five years old, and you’re like, half of that!”

They laughed and joked about Candace’s taste for ridiculously older men, and Regina continued, “I’m just lucky that my sister owns that salon in Largo. Granted, I hate having to work in Maryland when my kids are in school right here in DC. Quincy’s always getting into trouble, and you know how these bus schedules run! And I know I just shampoo and sweep up hair for a living, but a job is a job when you need to eat, right?”

“Well you’re even luckier that your sister pays you as much as she pays you to do it. Mr. Bennett only pays me $7.50 an hour at the community center. Which reminds me. I’m going to be late for my job interview, so I need to run. Thanks again for watching the kids for me!”

“No problem, girl. Anytime.”

Candace raced across the street to the bus stop, and she was right on time. She was surprised to see that the bus came earlier than its scheduled time, and she prayed for a smooth ride downtown; where she had an interview with an accounting firm. She noticed in the Post that they were hiring a receptionist. It’s what she currently did, except this firm was going to be paying her $16.50 an hour to do it. She desperately needed that opportunity. She was dressed to impress and in her mind, she was rehearsing answers to potential questions.

“Hello, ma’am. Is this seat taken?”

Candace jumped when she heard the voice of a man to her left. She let out a small sigh and realized that the man was actually trying to pick her up. It was an early Saturday morning and not too many people were on the bus. There were plenty of available seats for him to have chosen from.

Candace didn’t have time to play games with this man, nor was she in the mood. Her mind was focused on one thing; that job interview. Besides, the man of her dreams would be driving a Mercedes, not riding the Metro bus picking up random chicks.

She plopped her purse down into the empty seat and said, “Yes. This seat is taken.”

She rolled her eyes, looked away from him and continued to rehearse the dialogue between herself and the interviewer. Twenty minutes later she was out of her Southeast neighborhood and in Downtown, DC.

When she reached her stop she ran off the bus; and she didn’t stop running until she reached the glass double doors that lead to the office of Vincent P. McKinley, CPA. She was interviewing with Mr. McKinley himself, and all of a sudden she was a nervous wreck. Consumed with doubt, Candace backed away from the door that she had so confidently approached.

I can’t do this she thought. $16.50 is a lot of money. He’s going to tell me I’m not qualified enough. He’s going to laugh in my face!

Candace looked at her watch. It was almost 10:15 in the morning, and her interview was scheduled for 10:45. She had thirty minutes to pull herself together. She had thirty minutes for her confidence to return. She had thirty minutes to convince herself that she was capable of doing this job.

She said a prayer to bring her pre-interview jitters to a halt. God needed to help her, because her trying to convince herself wasn’t working. No sooner than she said amen, Candace had peace that everything would work out for good – whether she got the job or not. She knew God had her back, and she was ready to tackle the interview with more vengeance than before. She opened those glass double doors and told the security guard at the desk that she was in to see Mr. McKinley.

After receiving her visitor pass, Candace headed down the hall to the elevators. She had never been in such a beautiful building. She wanted to stand in the lobby forever and gawk at the gorgeous works of art lining the beautifully painted walls, and the classic design and layout of the furniture; but she had work to do. She stepped inside an elevator, and on the ride up to the seventh floor she said one more prayer: that God would do all the talking.

In the Morning April 7, 2008

NOTE:

*This is something I wrote – while I was bored at work.

It’s not very long, so I might add to it or improve it later.

But anywhooooo, these are just random thoughts that I’m trying to figure out how to put into action – so that’s why I said I might improve it.

But since I’m at work my boss will dang near fire me if he caught me trying to do so, LOL.*

Here goes:

 

Patrice nearly fell out of bed; startled by the sound of her alarm.

            Stupid alarm, she thought to herself. How dare that thing wake her up from her deep, much needed sleep?

            She didn’t have time to complain though, nor did she have time to hit the snooze button. She made a New Year’s resolution to read the Bible each and every morning and so far, she hadn’t skipped a day and it was nearly April.

            Patrice threw on her bathrobe and headed downstairs to her living room. She plopped down on her loveseat and started her time with God off with a quick prayer. She thanked God for waking her up, she prayed for her safety, and she begged for a stress-free day.

            She yawned as she opened her Bible to Psalm 30; but she stopped after reading the fifth verse. She read the verse over and over again, but her mind just couldn’t process it. The verse stated: “Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”

            She thought, well then, God. Why do I feel so miserable? She slammed her Bible shut, tossed it back on the loveseat and said, “That’s enough reading for today.” Then she headed back upstairs to get ready for work.

            An hour later, Patrice was in her car headed to Kramer, Johnston and Associates; a law firm at which she had been trying to make partner for two years. Today would be the day she’d find out if any of her hard work would pay off; as Mr. Kramer and Ms. Johnston would be announcing the firm’s new partner at noon.

            “Shoot,” Patrice said, realizing what she forgot to pray for during her ‘God time.’

            “Lord, please let me make partner. Lord, pa-lease let me make partner!”

            She was praying, begging, pleading and making promises to God, even as she pulled into the parking garage and headed towards the elevator. She was nervous and nearly shaking; wondering if her bosses knew how much this promotion would mean to her.

            But in the back of her mind, Patrice knew that making partner was impossible. She had only been an Associate for five years, and her skills and level of expertise couldn’t compare to the ‘seasoned’ professionals who had been there much longer. Not to mention, several other Associates had won far more cases; obviously making them more qualified than her.

Who was she kidding to think she had this partnership in the bag? Last year she was so confident she would make partner – until Mr. Kramer called Melinda Johnston’s name. Ms. Johnston had nearly twenty years as an attorney under her belt and there was no way Patrice could compete with that kind of experience.

She decided to wake up from her dream and face reality: she’d never be good enough. Not just for this job, but for most things in life. It made her bitter to think that everything she had, someone had something better. Everyone she knew, someone knew someone better. Everything she was capable of doing, someone could do something better. She would never be good enough – never.

 

 

Thank You March 24, 2008

    I want to say thank you to every employer I have ever had. Thank you for giving me a chance to show you what I’m made of. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your team and contribute to your company’s growth. I appreciate the opportunity, I appreciate the experience, and I appreciate you. Because of you and the opportunities you’ve given me, I know what professionalism is. Really, from the bottom of my heart, I appreciate each and every one of you: Kathleen from ABC; Margaret and Liz from AIP; Nikki from St. Thomas More; Bob from BJ’s Wholesale Club; Penny, Christine, Lorine, George, Linda, Charletta, Betty, Anna, Mercy and Juliet from Bank of America; and David and Velora (parents) from Signs Now. Oh. I suppose I should thank Stacy and Vania from The Washington Savings Bank; though I only learned how to be discouraged and bored out of mind there.

    I also want to thank employers who did not give me a chance. I have been on many an interview and received many a sweet little ‘DENIED” letter; wishing me luck on my job search. Thanks a lot. No really, I thank all of you: The lady from Bowie State, the lady from PGCC, the lady from that lame furniture store, the dude from MNCPPC, the HR department at Safeway. (Yes. I was denied employment at Safeway. Safeway….). I appreciate the rejection. I also appreciate the countless ignored job applications and resume/cover letter submittals. I applied for jobs and it seems like my application disappeared into thin air; as no one ever got back with me. But that’s okay. I thank everyone who saw fit to deny me the position by paying my resume no mind. From the bottom of my heart, I thank all of you.

    “Why are you thanking these people?” you ask. As for past employers, it’s always nice to be given a chance. It always feels good to be chosen; whether you end up liking the job or not. I love being able to flip through a brand new employee handbook. I love new employee orientations. I love new employee training sessions. All that makes me feel special. I love new opportunities. I love it when people say yes to ‘me.’

    “I understand that, but why are you thanking the losers who didn’t do all that for you?” you ask. Because the people who have said yes, though they don’t know it, have created a way of escape for me. I am thankful for them, nonetheless, but all they’ve really done is create a ’safe haven,’ so to speak. A way out of me doing what I know I was called to do. The people who have said yes have been holding me back from reaching my full potential. While I thank all of them for the chance to work for them (bills would be going unpaid without them), I thank the people who have told me ‘no’ more than I thank the ones that have said ‘yes.’ Would I have chosen to follow my dream of becoming a writer if I didn’t have people turning me down for jobs all the time?

    If you’re looking for a job and it seems that you’re getting nowhere in your search; perhaps it’s time to stop your search. If you need to get back in school, then get back in school and focus on that. The sooner you finish up, the sooner you’ll be able to walk through more doors. If money is an issue, here are a couple of solutions – some you may have heard, some may seem a little desperate; but aren’t you desperate? So here are some solutions:

    You can apply for scholarships, financial aid, or take advantage of your current job’s tuition reimbursement program if applicable. If you’re pressed to get a new job, at least get a job working at a university or college in your area. Heck, if you have to throw bake sales every Sunday after church for the next six months to raise the money – you have to do what you have to do. My cousin raised a bunch of money for her daughter to be able to go on all her expensive cheerleading competitions! Old fashioned fundraising was how she did it. Have a yard sell, have a bake sale, raffle something off or do what my cousin did a couple weeks ago and have a fish fry. That went over really well and was the last fund raiser she did before heading off to sunny Florida for her daughter’s big competition.

    If it’s entrepreneurship you hunger for, take a minute to study up on how to get started in doing what you love to do. Yes, I know a lot of start-up businesses fail at first; but get some Guerilla Marketing books and don’t become a statistic. Be fueled by your passion to escape a dead end job situation. Rely on God (sorry, I’m a Christian folks….) to get you through and realize that if you are His child, He doesn’t have plans to harm you, He has plans to prosper you – especially if you KNOW that the passion you have comes from Him. Why would He give you a passion, a calling and a destiny? So He can sit back and watch you NEVER achieve it? No, He wants us to achieve it! He’s given us skills to match the passion and wants us to act on it! We just need to believe that!

    But yes, it is said that a lot of start-up businesses fail within the first year or so; but DON’T rely on the statistics. Don’t even rely on the people in your life who tell you that what you’re doing isn’t secure enough, you’ll need something to fall back on, you’ll never make it, you’ll be broke for the rest of your life, it’s too hard to break in and succeed in that field…..don’t base your life decisions off the nay-sayers. They say ‘no,’ but what does God say? You know God, right? He’s the man who created you. Does anyone else know your innermost thoughts? Does anyone else know those secrets that you have hiding behind closed doors? Can anyone else say they knew you before you were even formed in the womb? Can anyone else say they know the approximate number of hairs on your head? No. Chose to trust and rely on God.

    So I thank the people responsible for not hiring me and not considering me. I thank the people who have ignored my cover letters, resumes and applications. I thank the people who maybe even took those before mentioned documents and threw them right into the circular file. You see, if you employers had told me yes, I would have no reason to walk the path which leads to a destiny fulfilled. For the rest of my life I could be serving you. Typing your documents, fetching your coffee, sitting at a stuffy cubicle in your office, taking your deposits to the bank…..but what would I be doing for me? I’d be helping you, but what about me? What about the tasks I was put on this earth to complete? What about my purpose? I’d be helping you fulfill your, but what about mine?

    By saying no to me, these employers have forced me to stay at a job that’s not for me. You see, I realize the only way to escape a job that’s not for me is to go out and look for a new job. But by not getting anywhere in my search because these employers don’t want me, won’t hire me or won’t consider me, I have no other way to escape the situation I’m in but to follow my dreams and allow God to provide a way out for me.

    We Christians pray and pray for God to pick us up and take us everywhere WE want to go. But for once can He take us where He wants us to go? For once can we consider that we didn’t create ourselves? We didn’t just evolve – certainly not from no danged ape! God created us…and a good inventor never creates anything without having a purpose for it. So God ‘invented’ me. My purpose is to write. No job I had or have now enables me to live out my purpose. Yeah I get to write a business letter here, and thank you card there, a company blog entry here and an advertisement there. But that ain’t hardly the type of writing I’ve been called by God to do. No job I wanted to leave another job for would have enabled me to live my purpose, either. I can only live my purpose when I decide to stop running away from it.

    So one last time, I say thank you to the rejection, the missed opportunities and the cold shoulders. Because of you; I have no place to run. Thank you God, for my purpose. I know I was created for a reason – and you didn’t have to even create me – but you did. I thank you that I am because of you. Forgive me for running into the arms of everything that felt safe to me. Safety really lies in Your arms. Help me never to run again.

Secrets Don’t Live Behind Closed Doors Forever… March 20, 2008

Karen Michaels was floating on cloud nine. It was a long day at work, and though traffic was crazy, she was relieved to be driving down 395 to her home in Alexandria, Virginia.

Despite the arrival of Spring, it was still quite cool outside; but that didn’t stop Karen from letting the top down on her red Mustang convertible.

Indeed, work was crazy, but it was well worth it. She was a Financial Advisor for Smith & Bearns; a mid-sized financial management firm based in Washington, DC. She dealt with clients who had far more money than they knew what to do with. She landed clients who weren’t afraid to pay a hefty price for some sound financial advice. Her newest client was a ‘new millionaire;’ having gained an inheritance from his late grandfather.

Many of her clients gave the word ‘bothersome’ new meaning, but Karen knew that people were sensitive about their money; always worried whether the right decisions were being made. She loved her career and she was a great asset to the company, and because of her, Smith & Bearns was leaving mid-size status behind. They were starting to become a force in the financial world, and today, Karen’s management team saw fit to give her a raise – a twenty percent raise at that!

Karen was with Smith & Bearns from the beginning. Howard Smith and Jeffrey Bearns were both close friends of her father. Karen started out as an Accountant for Bank of America, but when her father’s friends approached her about becoming a Financial Advisor for them, she jumped at the opportunity. She had always wanted to help people make wise decisions with their money, so being a Financial Advisor gave her a chance to do something she knew she’d love.

Karen exited off 395 and once she got on the main road she pumped the accelerator a little harder. There was still a lot of traffic, but at least she could feel a bit more wind in her face this time. She was indeed excited about her raise, but she couldn’t fight the sense of worry that kept creeping up on her. She couldn’t fight the sense of guilt that was beginning to rain on her parade.

She couldn’t fight the voice within her, telling her that she didn’t deserve that raise. Well, she deserved a raise; but a twenty percent raise was a bit much from a company that still had a lot of growing to do. Karen’s conscious was guilty because she knew the real reason why she received that raise.

But she kept rationalizing, justifying and making excuses for the truth. I deserve it, she said to herself. I work hard in and outside of the office. And that was true. She worked hard in the office by being dedicated to her clients, and providing them with the best options for financial management. Even her most difficult clients couldn’t be happier.

Her co-workers loved her as well. They respected her wisdom and expertise. She was the go-to person that everyone wanted to be like when they ‘grew-up.’

But would they still respect her if they found out the truth? What if they knew that the work she did outside the office had very little to do with financial management? What if they knew that the work she did outside the office was catering to her bosses needs; sexually?

Working…..for other people March 19, 2008

Why I just don’t like working…….for other people

    *I’m not trying to ‘boss-bash’ or anything. Just observing the reasons why I know I was called to be more than an employee forever……

    So here goes:

1. The infamous ‘schedule’. I appreciate a full time gig, but I don’t want my day to be controlled by someone who’s barely giving me enough money to live off of. Why must I be forced to wake up at the crack of dawn and pressured into working overtime?
2. Managers in the past have restricted the days/times that employees can have to make doctor’s appointments! That really got on my nerves! Not to mention, managers in the past have denied many a vacation time. So….the rest of my family is going out of town for Thanksgiving/Thanksgiving Friday; so I’m stuck here eating turkey alone while they’re off having BIG fun? Or, they have to cancel the trip altogether because I can’t go? Unfair.
3. If your company doesn’t have the funds, they can’t hire more staff. That means more work for you – at the same lame salary! Now, if you go the entrepreneurship route, this may ring true for you as well. But wouldn’t you rather be the business owner? You’ll be doing what you love, and delegating responsibilities to the little bit of staff you do have. Or would you rather be the chump working his butt off for…a minimum wage paycheck?
4. Speaking of money; making more of it depends totally on whether your boss thinks you deserve it. And he could care less that you have no heat or electricity. She doesn’t care that you’re a pink slip away from losing your home. If for whatever reason you haven’t met his or her standards, you’re not getting ANYTHING! I hate that my income is controlled by people who could care less about my financial situation.
5. I’m forced to do what people tell me to do. I just, plain, don’t want to be told what to do anymore.
6. I’M BORED OUT OF MY MOTHERPLUCKING MIND! And I can’t stand it anymore! Answering phones, plastering on smiles, pretending I care. Go home, go to sleep, do it all over again. It’s getting old. It would be different if this were like, Act I, Scene II in a play……but this is real life and I’m bored as hell.
7. What the heck am I supposed to do with a 30 minute lunch break? I spend most of my day at work, and all you give me for a break is half an hour? And what about the ‘alleged’ 15 minute breaks I’m supposed to get on the side? At Bank of America, those breaks were unheard of. At The Washington Savings Bank, I got in trouble for taking my 15 minute break; which was promised to me in my employee handbook! Where I am now, at least I finally get an hour – but sometimes I can’t even enjoy it without being interrupted and it sucks. I don’t want to eat lunch outside in my car just so people will leave me alone; but I’m not above it. What’s the point of being off the clock if you’re still gonna end up working?
8. Give me a break with dressing up already! At my last job, I swore I dressed up enough, but they practically wanted me in a freakin’ nun habit! I can’t stand it. That was the worst job I have ever had (for reasons beyond dress….I just didn’t fit in). At least where I am now, I get to be a little more comfortable.
   Psycho bosses who expect you to be psychic. “Oh, we do do such and such service….why did you just tell that customer that we didn’t?” Well, stupid, because no one ever told me we did. Guess I need to call up Ms. Cleo and get some pointers…..
9. Psycho, PMS-ing, bipolar bosses who aren’t happy unless they’re making their employers lives miserable. Enough said.
10. Lazy, irritating co-workers. Enough said.
11. Tomorrow is NEVER promised. Layoffs, you’re not meeting/exceeding expectations, you hate it so much that you quit before even having something lined up…..crap happens. When you’re running the show, you can hope for brighter days.
12. Getting written up or reprimanded for stupid stuff. I mean, stupid stuff! No more petty managers……..
13. No more referrals, sales goals, cold calls, telemarketing and contacting clients, seeing if they’re still interested in making the sale…..This one is personal. I hate it. I keep finding myself at these sales driven companies. I just want to be a freakin receptionist from now on. Maybe I’ll work at Giant as a shelf stocker…………no sales goals there. I heard Giant pays well too……..

    That’s all I can think of for now. In the middle of the night I will think of more, because I’m sure there are. But I guess there are some good things about working for other people.

1. Lots of businesses fail within the first few years. Even though there’s a risk of being laid off, most companies offer stable and permanent employment.
2. Health benefits are typically better when you’re part of a company that offers them.
3. 401K is usually offered, and matched by your company!
4. YOU get paid to go on vacation with some jobs. You might also get paid to be sick, or to take a day off.
5. Employee discounts, reward programs and incentives – even though you had to go through hell to earn the incentives!
6. Tax time is a bit less frustrating. Just hand the man your W-2 and you’re good to go.
7. Co-workers. This one is personal as well…..writing is a lonely career. I’ve really only come across a couple of really crazy co-workers. I do enjoy spending my time around people……

    But the point is, I’m willing to sacrifice the things that are good to tackle the unknown. I am willing to sacrifice a bit of the stability and do something that I may or may not end up being able to live off of. Every time I start thinking like that, God encourages me to believe that the gift and passion He’s given me for writing – will be what I ultimately do with my life; and will be used for His glory.

    But point blank, I can’t stand working for other people. I can’t do it anymore. I’m not lazy, I’m not disrespectful. Once I know what I’m doing on a job, I excel. I go above and beyond. But sometimes, that’s not even good enough….or you’re not going above and beyond in all the areas you should be going above and beyond in……and it’s frustrating. Some people have a servant’s heart and can run around baby sitting their manager’s all day long. Some people have what it takes to deal with bothersome micro managers who are shouting requests one right after the other; not even giving you a chance to pee if you have to. Some people can give of themselves so much; to venture out on their own is unheard of to them. There’s nothing wrong with being any of those people. But when you know it’s not you, you have to move on.