*Blog post was started on April 7, 2021.
I can now see why David Shoemaker a.k.a. The Masked Man does not write much these days. With two podcasts and and The Ringer website to maintain, how can he find the time? Is "NinetyForChill.com: The Podcast" worth the time if the written word is lost? The podcast was a New Year resolution.
Obviously
the answer is to resolve to write more in 2022. Will I have the energy
to do so is the question. I have been winding down my nights at around
midnight. This does not sound like a bad idea since I am in the midst of
a 13-day work week, but I got a podcast to record. Currently, a guest
has not been officially scheduled, but I have some leads. The latter
portion of the prior sentence indicates that I have some research to do.
Which in turn means, there should have been opportunities to have some content
to review if I stay up a couple more hours.
Without that, the only thing I have to inspire me to write today is a comment that would not fly with my very Central Illinois employees who sit to both the available sides of me.
Did you hear about the two year-old who got shot last night?
That's horrible?
My Desired Response:
Yeah. To accidentally shoot a toddler is awful. They are such easy targets, there is no reason to accidentally hit one. To sentence someone for doing that is to sentence them for their incompetence, not their intentions.
That is the type of morning mood I was in after getting ratted out for forgetting some of the closing duties one day when the openers have not been doing their duties for the past two days. I try to avoid tension with these folks (hence the need to avoid my satire from being considered anti-children), so to see that they will not reciprocate irks me a little. Curse this passive aggressive stuff. Tell me I screwed up, I can take it. To refer me to the manager, here is too hoping you did that because you feared you would forget to advise me of my mistakes.
And do not be pissy about it. That is my life at the retailer. The primary customer service specialist (With restructuring, I have become the most senior specialist.) vents to me every weekend about she is the only one to do the opening/closing duties. She does not want to upset her "subordinates", so she tries to leave things to imply that they have to do them or tries to delegate the work by arranging meetings. If she was a manager, that would be fine, but she is not.
I suppose you can blame the restructuring to ensure that we all get the "livable wage" (despite no one being allowed to work 40 hours) leading to a lack of management roles resulting in her attitude. My problem is, the stuff needs to get done. If you know that, make sure it gets done. If this means you have to do it yourself, fine. Perhaps I am just a masochist when it comes to all aspects of my life, but I would rather everything be done right, so I am fine with taking on extra responsibilities. Or I rather that than deal with the bitching of coworkers.
Working two 13-day stints a month is enough of a headache. Why make it worse? Let me beat myself up. I can at least do that right. Why would I let someone who does not know what they are doing have a chance at that? (See: Feeling Like Punk: CM Darth versus the Order of Saint Francis)
This is all probably just an indication that I need to quit the retail gig. I am trying to stick it out until the pandemic ends. Without an improv/wrestling scene to focus on, what else am I going to do with my time? Maintain my sanity I suppose.
I
guess I worry about how I would use that time. With all the video games
that I own, it would be like Burgess Meredith after the nuclear
apocalypse.
"There was time!!!"
But time has to be dedicated to my creative outlets. Once there is a sense of normalcy, my creativity was to be the focus of that time. It almost makes me regret any narrative video game, but I should have realized that when I purchased a dome chair to sit and play games from. This chair quickly became the throne of Eva the Queen Kitty. And with Skimble, if you sit down that mean you want to be sat on.
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