Better Work Habits

by pjmcbride

Remember those? I don’t, either.

I have been home with a cold, and feeling diseased and gross. I used up an entire box of tissues (DISCLAIMER: one of the smaller cube-shaped ones) (with roses on it!) (OK, I BOUGHT OUT WALGREEN’S ENTIRE SUPPLY OF THOSE, ALRIGHT??)  in a day and a half.

Secret Santa at work gave me a fuzzy throw, decorated (in a rather macabre fashion) with cat heads, and it is the WORLD’S SOFTEST THING. So sometimes I sit there just feeling it. Yes, I have a Security Blanket, and woe to the one who attempts to take it from me.

MY APOLOGY TO THE BUS SERVICE

–Their new changes are only half as annoying as I portrayed them to be. Further details are too boring to present here.

PINK & RED ALL OVER

Valentine stuff has been spotted at Area Drugstores. It has been at Walmart since December, I’ve been told, but Walmart is evil and I don’t go there. Aside from their corporate policies, any place with aisles higher than my head needs to be no bigger than Walgreens, or it makes me nervous.

AND SPEAKING OF MY NERVES…

I was thinking of all the people who’ve said (over the past 30 years), “I could never work at 911! I couldn’t handle the stress!” After all the jobs I couldn’t handle the stress of, why am I still here?

You know what I’ve found most stressful about the job? In the early 90’s, they decided we would benefit from training with/observing other agencies. So we had frequent “field trips”–to the ambulance service, firehouse, the new jail, basically anyplace they could think of. (Luckily, the visit to the morgue was optional, although the visit of the Crime Scene tech with grisly color pictures was NOT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH, THE WORDS “CRIME SCENE IN-SERVICE” STILL FILL ME WITH HORROR.) I thought, What ever happened to the job I agreed to, where I go to the place and just stay there until I leave?

Now, I don’t handle unfamiliar settings very well. (Yeah, I know, how can they become familiar if I don’t embrace new experiences, etc.) So, while I was supposed to be absorbing new information, I would be sweaty-palmed and queasy, thinking about how far away from home I was. And mandatory police ride-alongs were the ultimate “state of frozen horror,” as Nick so eloquently puts it.

I’ve actually become better about that whole thing with the years, but this was back before I’d developed any coping mechanisms. But even now, talk of road trips–travel generally, in fact–or variations in planned itinerary, or TOO MUCH itinerary (you know, “While we’re across town, why don’t we stop at That Other Place, too?”)  makes me uneasy.

So, do you feel like you understand me now? Neither do I. Understand myself, I mean.

 

 

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