So, here’s the thing, if you don’t want to listen to a rant that’s pretty much what this post is.
You have been warned.
I know I should be forever thankful that I have a job. It’s been ingrained in me by countless family members that even if you hate the job at least you have one. Yes, although I may not like the fact that the world runs on money it is a fact of life. When I come home and I’m mad at basically everything because my job is demeaning and the customers we draw in have a tendency to be very rude then I start to wonder if I really should be grateful.
Yes, I’ll only be working there for eight more months, and as my coworker sometimes irritatingly mentions that I don’t work very much, I feel guilty for being frustrated. The fact is all the workers are frustrated, and there are times when we take it out on each other without meaning to. I know that if I do what I have to in the early game I’ll be able to do what I want to later in life, but that just seems like it leads to a bunch of bitter in-dept young people who have degrees that they would like to use but aren’t able to in the way they’d like.
There was a point when I liked my job. It was the honeymoon phase of my barista career, and it lasted maybe four months. Now, there really isn’t anything that makes me look forward to going to work. It used to be the friends I’d made there, but they are all getting different jobs, and as much as I’d like to find one too I’m only going to be in Seattle for 8 more months and not many people are willing to hire for that short of time.
So, I’ve dug myself into a ditch. I’ve shackled myself to the job because I was so worried about not having one when we moved here that I took the first one that came my way. I love the friends I’ve made, and I genuinely hope that we stay friends after I leave, but hopefully we won’t have to work together anymore…at least not where we currently work.