Tuesday, 10 May 2016


This has been a week of change. For the first time in almost five years I've gone back to work. After five years of no boss, no responsibilities beyond that of normal everyday living and child rearing, nobody to report to, nobody telling me when to be where, nobody telling me how to dress, or get my hair cut. Nothing. That all changed this week and quite suddenly. 

I went for a job interview on Thursday at 1pm. It wasn't an interview, it was a deliverance of terms. I was asked to start at 6pm, a short five hours later. I hummed and hawed at that for a brief moment, realizing quickly that this was not an opportunity to pass on, so being as unprepared as one could be, I accepted. My first work shift in five years was literally thrown at me with no notice, and to boot it was a ten hour midnight stint. I've always worked day shift, at my desk at 8am in Kingsville an hour down the highway. And like clockwork, in bed before 11. Now I was working til 4am. That was a fun night. And when I finally got home, sleep eluded me. I ended up over-exhausted. 

The job isn't much, but I wasn't looking for much. Just part-time to start so I could weed myself back into a lifestyle I haven't seen in a long time. That and am not quite prepared to give up my pension quite yet. Not that I don't want to, I really do, it's just a simple matter of the job having to be good enough to take the risk. If I took something that didn't pan out, I'd be stuck without income, a very uncomfortable thought. This offer was perfect, except of course for the 4am thing.

I can't say (or don't want to) say too much about what I'm doing. Not that I'm embarrassed about this course after my previous career, on the contrary, this is a very honourable pursuit, and one I will enjoy. I just don't want to let out too much until I'm comfortable in my new shoes. 

Shoes, that reminds me, I have to buy new ones. 
I also had to arrange a flurry of other actions, haircut, cell phone, and razors. Yes, razors. When I'm alone at home there is really nobody there who cares if I shave. Certainly the cats don't. But now, yeah, customers. Picky, finicky, judgemental customers. I need to clean myself up, literally. 

My first night was without the necessary prep. I have the wrong shoes, I managed to scrape my face with a mustache trimmer, my hair is out of control, yadda yadda. You see I made a command decision lately to see what my hair would look like long; I've always worn a military cut, and call it mid-life crisis, but I wanted to just see. Maybe I'll hate it? Don't know. But the point it's at now is between a crop cut and uncontrollable mop. Again, who cares, I'm alone. Not so much. My first night a customer told me I looked like Weird Al. I laughed, he laughed, the random guy walking down the street laughed, it was all good. Yesterday I got a trim. Baby steps.

My first days were nuts busy. No down time, no break for the wicked. Tonight I'm working til 2:30 and here I sit at Tim Hortons writing. It's strange how suddenly things hit a wall. Mind you in my former life working on publication deadlines was very similar. Monday and Tuesday were production days and that usually meant a 12 to 14 hour day in Kingsville, then the dreaded commute. Wednesday we drifted off into a sort of quiet clean up, a short day of tying up loose ends and preparing for the next wave. Hump day usually ended after around six hours. A nice break. Tonight that brings up memories of the former environs. The calm after the storm. It's funny how these two jobs are so different, yet so similar. A nightmare frantic rush of customer care followed by reflective peace.

It's been three days now since I once again became a productive member of society (as it were). In this time I've come to realize the benefit of work, five years of retirement is enough. Five years of boredom. Enough. Just plain enough. Once again I feel useful, wanted, needed. Not just the troll in the basement. This isn't to say these past years have been a waste, on the contrary, I had a chance to do something most people dream of - retire. Take time for myself and my family. Take time to actively pursue things I've always been curious about but just never had the time for. But time was the enemy, way too much of it. This job will occupy a desperately needed aspect to my existance, that is taking up some of that unused time slot. 

Getting paid for it is gravy. 


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