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busy, busy, busy

Saturday, October 04, 2003

I love my job, but...

This week was hell. I can't quite put my finger on why it was so bad as compared to other weeks.

Maybe it was because we had stay awake two nights in a row because of faulty night monitoring equipment (usually we just arm the system and someone else watches the place from 11PM-7AM--someone who's job is to monitor the house to make sure no one, say, floods the kitchen or gets into the knives or smears shit all over the walls--so we can fucking sleep).

Maybe because it was this week that everyone started giving us shit over insignificant things we really have no control over (I personally don't care if so-and-so grabs and rips up everyone's magazines and books at the day center. HINT: when you see him coming, hide your goddamn stuff).

Maybe it was getting the crap beaten out of me for fifteen minutes yesterday while getting some guys onto a van. The particular in individual is hard enough to "restrain" when he's standing in an open space; with him in the backseat and me in the seat in front of him, trying to protect the person he initially started beating on, it was damn near impossible. He was pissed. Why? I made him get in the silver van, and he wanted to go in the green van. Christ.

I suppose other than all that, it was a good week. Fortunately, unlike any other job I can imagine, I do get paid enough to put up with shit like this.


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