Venting from the Bitch Box

I am in desperate need of some coping skills. Like on the double. Exercise seems to help a bit, but the snow has put a brief halt to that. I have gone for walks, and I do have some DVD's I could do, but man when my motivation takes a nose dive it plummets like a boulder off a cliff.

At the moment this blog is at the top of the list of things I can do to help me cope with stress and simultaneously keep me away from the pantry.

The current batch of 'what the fuck is this mess' surrounds my job.

I started working at a hair salon several weeks ago. The owner is a friend of mine - probably mistake number one on my part. I was hired to implement a new computer system (they've got an archaic paper and pencil system that's pretty labor intensive) and to help pick up the manager's slack. All fine and dandy until I realized the manager's slack was considerable, in fact I can't remember the last time I met an individual that was more disorganized. That didn't really bother me a ton, but I was starting to get pressure from the owner to get the computer system up and functional, which was getting tougher by the day since I was running my ass of doing things the manager had requested.

I told the owner that I was having trouble getting anything done on the computer and that I was getting conflicting messages from her and the manager about what my duties were. The owner cleared this up and merrily we rolled along.

Then I had a tough day dealing with my PPD/new meds etc, (which Rebecca, the owner, knew about before she hired me) and I took a 15 minute break to pull myself together, which I did. Later I got a text message from Rebecca saying that if the job was too tough for me it wouldn't hurt her feelings if I didn't want to work there anymore. I guess in today's economy it's not okay to have a bad day, probably mistake number two on my part. I apologized for my misstep and said I was definitely interested in continuing to work there.

Meanwhile, the manager, Esh, is filling my ear with information about Rebecca and how her personal bank account is the same as the business account and that she and her partner have basically bled the business dry with their out of control spending habits. What's more, Rebecca told Esh she wanted to cut back on the front desk, and that she could get plenty of people to do Esh's job for less money. Dunno what this had to do with me, so I just nodded and smiled and tried to mind my business. The next thing I know Rebecca hires a temp to implement the computer system, and conveniently doesn't tell me. And last night I get a text message saying one of the stylists who owes her money is going to work at the desk on Tuesdays and Thursdays (my regularly scheduled days) and I can just work on Saturdays for a while.

That will make me about 40 bucks a week, BEFORE taxes.

I had set up a few new things we could afford based upon the income I'd be getting from the salon. I joined weight watchers and the YWCA but namely the money was to go toward paying for Zeke's pre-school. A place where he has already made friends and it is a very real possibility we may have to pull him out of there if I can't find some other part-time position, fast.

Ben is, of course, taking it all in stride. I, however, want to smack the shit out of Rebecca, tell her to shove her forty bucks up her ass and eat an entire carrot cake in one sitting. I mean who runs a business via text message? Am I just out of the loop since I haven't been a part of the work force in over three years, or is this really how things are done these days? Whatever happened to good old conversation? Or how about a fucking phone call?

Perhaps I am getting worked up over nothing, I don't know. It's just one of those situations where you know you're probably better off having it go the way it's going but it's still seriously annoying. That and I really get my back up when I feel like someone is potentially threatening my kids happiness.

So there. Time to put the bitch box away, I got it out of my system and I didn't have to chew my way through it. I know this isn't really weight loss or food related, but it does make me feel better to know that when I don't feel like chatting with a psychiatrist or psychologist or any other kind of ist, and all my friends are busy, there is a place where I can vent without detriment to myself. I can see that eating my way through every stress, be it large or small was getting me nowhere fast, except for maybe a one way ticket to diabetesville.

Thus bringeth me to yet another small victory.