Well fuck you too, work.

This post is very work related. Sorry perverts :)

I walked into work the other day for my shift, like any other day, and took a quick peek at the rosters. The notably shorter rosters. The roster which was missing 4 people. Including me.

Seems my favorite little Irish pub did a jig around the money tree and decided we were all commodities to be let go, which as casuals, let's face it, we are in the quiet times.

Furious, upset and embarrassed, I confronted the manager on duty who had no idea what was going on. No doubt he was left in the dark simply because of his departure -- it was his own last shift, but he was leaving on his own terms.

Now, i'm pretty placid about life. I tend to accept things, avoid confrontation, keep a stiff upper lip and jaw, and continue on, but i'm such a softy and this really broke my heart; I loved that pub. I love its creaky walls and its reasonably classy atmosphere and its gentle owner and the way it floods out and we have to block to doors with bar-mats when it rains. I like the staff and the way I always have something to do. I missed it the second I saw my name removed.

I finished that shift. I finished it and left in a fury, leaving skid marks across the highway in front. I may be placid but I'm also as nervous as a deer in headlights, and this singed a nerve right off. I couldn't believe the hours, the free work, the extra time, the extra effort I'd put in only to be removed, much like 3/4 of the other staff couldn't. Two were some of their best, hardest workers.

Pissed off and hurt, I sent my ex-manager/fuckbuddy a message. "What happened with the roster?"

"Fuck you too. Stop making me the bad guy, I didn't take you off the roster, I don't even know anything about it."

Ensue a battle of the fucking wills via little tip-tap messages on a touch screen. Condescending, rude, controlling and arrogant, I was quietly glad I'd dodged a bullet there and happily realised I no longer had any feelings for him at all. A little bit of sugar in a big-ass salt bowl. Even a week later, not a morsel of feeling for him, just a lot of resentment for the kindness I showed him and the treatment I received in return.

So last night, while out, I quickly dropped in to speak to my favorite manager. We've gotten along like best buddies from day one with no hint of sexual attraction to ruin the friendship... we used to do Sunday afternoons together every week and he'd been in trouble more than once for giving me a wealth of shifts for long hours. I get into the pub and he's happy to see me and smiling. Suddenly I'm not pissed off anymore, he looks happier than I've seen him in years. And although I had a quick, positive chat re: my job, ie, I'm NOT fired and will be getting hours again, the issue was rectified, as much as ex-fb would like to think not, he happily told me he had a new girlfriend.

I met her, and although drunk and kind of contentious, I was happy he was happy, and watching him wrap his arm around her shoulder protectively and kiss her cheek and forehead, stroking her hair back, had me wishing them both the very best from the bottom of my heart.

However, even if they roster me back, I'm not sure if I want it after that fiasco. I'm losing my forgiving nature a little, and this hurts me to say. I'm getting very, very sensitive to the idea of being used in all aspects of my life; for my body, money, house, time and car, that removing me without so much kindness to mention it really hit home. I love helping people and I, for a few, I'd do most anything just to be there -- but being kicked in the teeth hurt.

So I took up more shifts at the newer workplaces. A golf club, which I can't really stand, pretentious twats, and a small-town pub hotel in which I was made duty manager on my second shift. I now pull Thursday and Friday nights on duty management, and Saturday mornings as well. Every other day is the gold club, which is long, strained hours which usually leave me wishing I had an uzi after I painfully crawl into my car after every strained shift.

This is something my ex had said to me. Actually, most things the snobby jerk had said were true; don't get too attached to your workplace, don't work extra, and for gods sake don't work for free. Don't expect anyone to care about you as a worker; you work for THEM, not the other way around. Do your job, go home.

And, only recently, I've started becoming genuinely concerned about my body as a direct result from working long hours on concrete.

My hips ache. My knees and joints ache. My back is out and my spirits are being dashed a little.

I'm getting moodier and more upset about trivial things because of the sheer strain of the workload, mainly placed on me by the golf club. It is a HUGE workload for any staff, even in hospitality, due to the failing profits they hire the best they can afford -- quality over quantity, so the staff they sourced get worn out like old greyhounds off a track very rapidly. This massive stress, plus the desires that keep cropping up -- for a steady, content, protect/nurture style relationship and much less focused on sex, the small hopeful ideas of having children now that my savings are up, my living situation and financial situation are good are not helping -- I won't have kids for years, not until I'm in a very long-standing steady relationship, anyway. I've been smart enough to get a good education, a good income, a good house and the ability to afford luxuries -- I'm not going to blow it all now by nagging little urges. Simply not going to happen.

In the same vein, I'm getting more jealous and stand-offish than I have -- ever. I went out, sober, to a pub last night with friends, and every one who hit on me was met with a "fuck off" or a very pissed off look. Absolute zero tolerance for sleaziness and an almost growing disdain for careless promiscuity. I'm getting caustic and abrasive.

I love sex, it's obvious just from this blog. I love to FEEL. I love sensations and aggression and the way bodies move when they know, primitively, they're going to fuck. I love letting go and giving it up to him, letting him take me and be inside me, show me his strength and let me show him my softness and eagerness.

But after 3 years of jostling around, I miss the comfort of someone who I know I can trust to give it all up to, to accept everything. To give those last remaining pieces of me you only show someone you're actually with; the vulnerability, the enthusiasm, the sheer desire for that ONE person. I'm very very promiscuous, but also fiercely faithful. I need someone who can fulfil my intense libido and give me someone to please. More and more I hate the thought of booty calls and just want to do dirty, filthy fucking things with one man.

I really hope he's not right about that side of it, either.

However, not particularly stressed about it, things come.

With time, a positive outlook and good spirits.
And boy, am I looking forward to that day when I can breathe relaxed again.