April 04, 2008
Originally published August 3, 2003
I may be on the shit-list at work after this weekend. I didn't spend a lot of time at the plant performing the "weekend duty." I got the numbers, plugged them into the computer, sent them off, made sure nobody was dead in the last 24 hours and split back to the Crackerbox both days.
That's not the way weekend duty is supposed to work. I should have burnt about half a day out there, walking around looking worried and important. I needed to furrow my brow and show my dedication to the company just by BEING THERE when I didn't have to be.
My company appreciates people who do that, who live breathe and die for the cause, except when they become "manpower issues" and are let go for the sake of synergy, competitiveness, right-sizing or some other corporate bullshit. I've spent 23 years of my life working there and they may drop me like a hot rock tomorrow. I've seen it happen too many times.
I once was a very ambitious man. I put a lot of my heart and soul into my work. In return, I was given a paycheck and a few promotions. That sounded fair to me at the time.
But everybody and everything I did that for are gone now, and Acidman ain't working himself into the grave so the company can throw a wreath on me and give somebody else my job when I'm gone. I am through with climbing. All I want to do is hang on now. And I'm really not that interested in hanging on.
Don't get me wrong. I'll earn every paycheck I receive, but I'm not going to make that place my life anymore. Doing that cost me two marriages and everything I held dear to me. I've spent more of my life at that plant than I have in my own bed. I spend a LOT MORE time with operators than I do with my son.
This weekend, the truth finally dawned on me. That's not my life anymore. It's just a fucking job
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