So, yesterday I started working at my same job, but now instead of working from 3pm to 11pm, I'm there from 8:30am to 4pm.
It's definitely an adjustment. I don't so much care for the rush hour traffic. Both coming and going. It's not that bad though...it only takes me about 10 minutes longer to get there than it did when I wasn't in rush hour traffic.
Here's the weird part: The day seems very long. You would think that during the day, there is more to do and the time would go faster. You would think. But for some reason, the day seems longer to me than the night shift did. I think I've figured out why.
There's been a disruption in the time/space continuum, you see. No, I'm not driving a DeLorean. But before, when I was working evenings, I was still up at 7am, taking people to school, and then doing various things, from running errands to grocery shopping, seeing friends, occasionally doing some laundry, etc. In other words, I had a day. And THEN, I went to work.
Now, my day IS at work. And now I come home, nag people about homework, make dinner, do kindergarten homework with the youngest (don't panic, it's only one page), watch some TV with the kids, and clean up the house for the next day.
I kind of do the same things, but in a different order. And somehow this is completely messing with my head. The day seems so very, very long.
There are also now people to deal with, at work. Most of them, I like. One of them even occasionally reads this blog. (Hi Bonnie!) But there are a couple of people that I can see pushing me over the edge.
One of them is the bane of my existence, a temp/trainee, whom I'm going to refer to as Twink. Bonnie has thus dubbed her, and it is so. Because it's funny. Twink is 18 years old, and she has the emotional and mentally maturity of a 12 year-old. She apparently has anxiety issues, and OCD, but she's also silly and immature. I've decided that the only way I'm going to survive this girl is to mess with her head when she asks stupid questions. And by stupid questions, observe the example from today:
Twink, randomly: "Where does your hair grow from?"
Supervisor: "Um...your scalp?"
Me: "It grows directly from your brain."
Me: "Totally. It comes right out of your brain and it pokes through your head. Every time you cut your hair, you get a little bit dumber because you're cutting off brain cells."
At this point, co-workders starting laughing, thus blowing my story. In case you think Twink is just acting dumb...I assure you, she's not acting.
I also got to listen to her side of a conversation with her boyfriend on the phone today. It went like this:
"Are you mad? You sound mad." Pause "I'm at work. Why would you think I'm somewhere else? I don't get why you're mad." Pause "Because of the way you're acting. I'm at work. Why are you getting mad?" Ad nauseum. Oh yes...her boyfriend is an abusive asshole. Surprise. I swear, if I wanted to be in middle school, I'd be in one.
The answer is headphones. Big ones, that plug into my laptop and drown out Twink. Although, I think this may be good blog fodder. The Adventures of Twink. Because I swear, sometimes she says things that just...defy explanation. I wonder what kind of shit I can make up to tell her tomorrow.