It's been over nine months since I started work at my place of employment and it's pretty easy to see how things work. The firings have started which means that the panic of finding enough employees is over and the weeding out process has begun. The turnover rate in the industry is 5 months, so I'm told. Our stats are better, but mostly because of the area. There really isn't much else that will offer better wages or more importantly, better reliability.
Key terms tossed around are 'team players', 'use your resources' and 'one and done'. It's all motivational bullshit, but I find I don't mind it so much. Not like some people I know. I've become as laid-back at work as I am at home. I'm never going to be the best employee, but I'm definitely not the worst. I show up, do my thing, joke around with my co-workers and head back home to my family for a bit, and do it all over again the next day. I get along with pretty much everyone there. I don't have any actual complaints about the job except that its work, if you know what I mean.
I'm trying to figure out what I want. It's a pretty damned hard thing to do.
I figure that I'm here in Peterborough, at least until the summer. I'm half-assedly sending applications out to other places, but I can't see being able to move any earlier than that. After some important discussions with family, its hard to figure on getting a job that offers enough to cover the daycare and living expenses that I have for as good as free here. And, really, I know more about what I don't want, than what I actually want. I don't want another 3 - 6 month contract job. I don't want to have to guess when my paycheck is going to arrive. I don't want to have to know how long my shift is going to last for. Simply put, my job pays me so much an hour for exactly 8 1/2 hours of work a day. I get a check deposited into my bank every two weeks. I like that reliability.
I've been writing a lot. Its not good stuff, but at least it's stuff. It was getting to the point where I couldn't write one damned thing.
I could write a book about my relationship with my sister. But you've heard it all before.
I give up on men. Or, rather, I give up on the idea of me and relationships. I'm going to hate it a hell of a lot more by tomorrow, that much is true.
I am sick of winter. Literally. This is the second time in a little as a month where I've been ill. Horribly ill. But I think I'm getting better.
Just in time for work tomorrow.