Sixteen Tons

  • Dreaming the Dream

    I’ve had my dream job twice now. Luckily for me, I realized both times that I loved what I was doing while I was doing it. Unluckily for me, I’m not doing either at the moment. C’est la vie, and all that. Is this not the definition of maturity – sacrificing immediate pleasure for the greater long-term good? One day, one or both of those jobs will be mine – or perhaps another that is completely fulfilling and nourishes my soul and makes me bound out of bed in the morning, ready to face the day. Aw heck, even when I had a job I loved I did NOT bound…

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  • Slap My Hand!

    At the place where I work, we make stuff.  We make stuff that has to stay clean, because it can be used in medical supplies, baby wipes, and other similar need-to-be-sanitary type products.  When making this stuff, in order to avoid the deposit of human DNA and other nasties, we wear uniforms and hair nets.  You get so used to seeing people walk around with big white bouffants on their heads, you don’t even notice it.  Except sometimes you do – in the most inappropriate of places.   So I was in a disciplinary meeting the other day.  There were four of us in there along with the offender – something…

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  • Adventures in Chemotherapy

    You know work is bad when you prefer spending the day at the chemotherapy treatment center.   My job has myriad, disparate tasks.  Myriad.  And disparate.  And here lately these pesky insistent little duties have all hooked their long fingers around one or the other of my limbs and started trotting off in their disparate directions, threatening to tear me apart, medieval execution style.  Then yesterday, the Biggest Baddest Need of them all stepped up, swept away all of his grabby competitors-for-my-attention, and demanded all of me, for 6 hours.   This Biggest Baddest Need was a friend’s cancer.  A key employee is needed at a key meeting that cannot be re-scheduled.  His wife is due her…