Strange Days

Twelve hour days. Thats what my work life is like right now. Every day is another 12 hour day. Not by my choice but due to the incompetence of the people I work with. I’m not exactly scheduled for 12 hours, but it is ‘suggested’ I come in early or stay late because nobody else can do my job. Instead of compromising and have someone come down from our other store to cover my shifts when I’m gone, they hired this idiot who can’t pull together a coherent sentence let alone do my job. It’s an intolerable situation and to make matters worse: I opened my mouth and said I was free tomorrow on my day off. And of course, it was ‘suggested’ I come in and help since I’m available. Arrggh!

Why do I do this to myself???

I wanna say I can’t complain because my paychecks are awesome. But, as a friend pointed out today, all the money in the world is worthless if you have no life to spend it on. Sitting at work today, I kinda realized that although I’m sorta indespensible, the job is kinda killing me. I keep telling myself that when I finally meet someone special and settle down, I’ll find a job that doesn’t require 60 hours a week. I’ll find something fullfilling, satisfying and rewarding. A job I can be proud of.

But, because this job sucks so much of my life out of me, I find I have less and less time for myself and the people I love. And lets not even get into trying to meet someone. My dating record for the last year speaks for itself: stood up 3 times and no real dates. I find myself going nowhere fast.

Today, the 12 hours seemed especially long, dragging on and on. I filled out surveys on myspace all day, counting the minutes. Exchanged messages with friends as the hands on the clock slowly ticked away. Finally, 8pm rolled around and I leapt from my desk and bolted. I drove home as fast as I could, changed and headed out. I needed to be out of small spaces and around people I didn’t work with….so I headed to the new Chicken Wing Place in North Hampton.

Now I know what you are thinking: Chicken Wings? Come on George, there must have been something decent open.

Actually, this place took over the space of a failed restaurant and seems to be doing quite well for itself. The place was hopping, the bar was full and the food looked good. So I wandered in, hopped up to the bar and ordered a widmer.

The Bar was cozy, with a warm brown and tan color scheme that was very mellow and unobtrusive. The walls were lined with 8 large flat screen tvs, some showing the Boston Bruins (who were winning!!!) others showing ESPN HD and one tv showing the results from Iowa. So of course, since I’m a political junky, I watched the Iowa results. 🙂 I ordered a quesadilla called the Chi CHi Rodriguez, which was chicken, chipotles, cheese, salsa and sour cream. Once it finally came, it was delicious. Crispy and sweet with some nice smoky heat. I barely made it through half.

While I waited for my food, the seat next to me was taken by a woman I didn’t see come in. I smiled and said “Good evening”. She smiled, taking off her coat and draping it on the chair on the other side of her. She had the librarian girl look going ong on: dressed in a sweater, slacks, sensible shoes, funky scarf and little glasses but something was off. She had long (way past her shoulders) straight brown hair and there was glitter under her eyes.

So I couldn’t help myself, even though she looked like she just wanted to quietly eat her dinner and hang out, I struck up a conversation. To my surprise, she was very friendly. She was shivering despite the sweater and it was almost 80 degrees in the bar so I had to ask:

“How can you be cold here?”

“Oh Ah’m from Texas,” she said, the drawl very aparent. I laughed. “Ah wasn’t expecting this kind of cold when Ah moved here.”

“Itt’s awful busy in here,” she continued. “Ah was expecting it to be quiet. Ah really needed to come someplace mellow. My job is so loud.” She lauhed, sipping her iced tea.

“What do you do?” I asked.

She paused and I realized that she didn’t really want to answer. “Ah’m a dancer..Ah mean, Ah’m a stripper.” She gulped down more of her iced tea and looked at me. Don’t know if she was expecting me to be shocked or what, but I didn’t miss a beat.

“I can imagine after a day of dance music, a little peace and quiet would do you some good.”
She started laughing. We talked for an hour about everything from her job, to my job to her previous jobs (para legal!) and making fun of our waitress who was obviously new and more interested in getting the attention of the boys at the end of the bar than tending to the other patrons needs.

At the end, as she was suiting up to face the cold again, I extended my hand and said, “I’m George, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

She smiled and shook my hand, “Nice to meet you to! Ah’m….” and she paused. A slightly confused expression came across her face. She looked up at me “wow, Ah had to think there for a minute because Ah almost gave you one of my stripper names.”

“Well,” I said, “I would have called you on it if you told me your name was Chantelle or Candy or some shit…”

She laughed and told me her real name, a simple boring name like the rest of us. We parted ways, hoping to run into each other agin at this place. I watched her leave as I finished my beer and sat back in my chair. For the first time all day, I felt relaxed, the 12 hours that had weighed on me so heavily had been lifted from my shoulders. I breathed easier and smiled.

Strange encounters like this seem to happen in my life alot and I realize that in the mind numbing 12 hour days I spend at work, I have this tendency to coast through the off hours of my life and not notice the strange and unusual things around me. Meeting a paralegal turned stripper at a chicken wing restaurant while watching the Bruins win a game and Obama to take Iowa, a trifecta of events I wasn’t expecting, and if I had just spent the night at home, I would have missed out on. Twelve hour days may rule my life right now, but I’m not going to let them ruin it.