so we have these folder type deals at work.. they're like our very own grown-up versions of those "cubby" spaces given to children who make crafts.
we are alphabetized by last name. on one side, veteran drivers; on the other "rookie" drivers. its not a big deal.. its just a folder wherein pay stubs and advert flyers can be placed. its easy and efficient and.. color coded.
but i'm getting too far, now, from the point. i guess, though, i just wanted to make it clear about the use of space. that we're crammed in. that everything about this job has to do, in one way or the next, with space. the use, abuse and caboose of the whole durn thing.
ok so the original idea was that i was to get this job for which i can sink into the role of being a cog in the wheel.. the idea was to blend in with the other serial numbers.. the idea was/is to do the job. and that is all. the goal was to work real hard in the hopes that i might come around and enjoy my off-time to the fullest.
ok. so i'm looking in my folder this morning.. because i don't check the thing and who knows what gorgeous paperwork is awaiting the scritch and scratch of my eager searching fingers. so i'm lookin.. sort of feeling around (and thats not saying much seeing as how these are your regular old filing folders). i come up with three pieces of paper. two are official things having to do with pay and/or state and/or federal tax stuff and then there's this thing.. a slip of paper which congratulates me or some such nonsense.
its sad. the half-sizedness of it, the font, the poor-quality background pic all smeared across the page. it makes me sad. there's my name in print.. there's my name in some god-awful font, all bold and souless.
i mean, don't get me wrong.. its cool to be recognized for something. i understand that people at the top feel the need to take care of the morale of their underlings.. but this was just sad.
i mean.. ok, i'll admit that my initial reaction was not sad. in fact it was sort of like i giggled to myself. but even that, what kind of cop-out was it, even? but then that's when the sadness kicked in. the whole sorry thing of it came rushing at me like a run-a-way freight train or a spanish bull, seeing red and running amock.
it was sad because they were trying to "recognize" me for basically doing what i'm paid to do. i mean.. it isn't like i did anything out of the ordinary. i didn't save a bus load of people from death by b.o. suffocation or some such thing. i just "left the stops in a timely manner" and "gave a smooth ride"... what the hell?
i know this whole thing just sounds as though i'm some sort of ingrate. but really. i thought about it and i have never felt so much like a cog in the great wheel in all my born days. there are people that work like dogs their whole lives to get that.. to get a kind word.. to get the scraps of a kind word.. to get the scraps of a kind and supremely ordinary word of recognition.
i thought it would feel different.
as ever, i am the outsider looking on.. taking notes.. attempting and failing to be sly.
in the air: movie credits with for your eyes only playing against the slow crawl of names and job titles. the names and names and names of everyone.. of every one of those cogs..
i go now to deal with the wreckage of my sanity.
goodbye cruel world.... why don't this place have a melodrama diaryring? i'd be all over that, shooooooot
~grrrr
10:27 p.m. - 2004-01-27
Recent entries:
oday.html">the 3 month countdown begins - 05 May 2018
anothrburst.html">another burst - this used to be my playground
newlife.html">begin at the beginning. - 10 April 2008
moody.html">a blanket for a bad mood under the sun. - 25 March 2007
emilludwig.html">...kissing a fool... - 05 December 2006
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