Essential personnel

I was just scrolling through Facebook, as I am likely to do about a billion times a day, and realized how jealous I was that a friend is taking a two-week staycation.

Of course, it doesn’t seem like she’s actually *been* at home, but I found myself jealous that her job can actually be left for two weeks without the world coming to an end.

I was also just contemplating the crazy pay cut I’ve taken going from employed to not-really-employed. These days, I’m able to live on next to nothing. (Although tell me again why I pay two grand a month for this eternally cockroach-infested beachside fiasco…) And even though I make next to nothing right now, I am chained to this bloody machine.

That doesn’t bug (hah) me AT ALL. < / sarcasm >

Anyway, I’ve always loved having “vital” roles at wherever I’ve worked. But do they get my best? Absolutely not. They just get my time and focus. And as we learned last week, once that part goes to pot we’re all screwed.

Reminds me of working in/near the District. When a snowflake hit the ground, they said only “essential personnel” had to come in. I didn’t work for the government but we always followed its weather policies. And I was NEVER considered non-essential personnel. Hi ho, hi ho, off to work in the pseudo-snow in my little Chevrosleigh we go. (OK, so it was a Pontiac, but still — cheap American crap cars FTW!)

I need to become a professional drunk. Yes, that’s it. All this worrying and working is for the birds. I see why the rich want to keep their money. I don’t AGREE with it, mind you, but I wouldn’t want to part with “knowing I’ll have a roof over my head while I make a constant series of fuckups” either.

When I do become rich (and I will, mark my words), I look forward to making decisions without considering “pending homelessness” as a potential consequence.

As the houseguest says, I’ve done quit the only job that pays me. I’ve kept one that doesn’t and I’m putting 100% faith into my newest gig making me a millionaire.

And all I really want (other than a bank account that doesn’t play a laugh track when I log in) is the same kind of two weeks away from the computer without the world imploding that my friend is enjoying.

Soon, Goddess. Soon…

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