Part of what I do to help myself cope with the psychobabble and weirdness of my job and the people I encounter, is to make myself scarce for a few hours every day.
It takes some decompressing after sitting for an hour in a nusing home while an 88 year old farmer cries to you because his new wife of 15 years and his children from his first marraige hate each other. Crying because he met her at a polka weekend in Wausau and thought that she must be nice because she brought her wheel chair bound father to the dance. Crying because she now wants all of the money he put in a trust for his 5 grown children. Crying because she doesn’t really care about him – he discovered that when his friend from the VFW told him that he saw the wife in Vegas with another guy from California who was a horse breeder…..Crying because he can’t get a divorce because “the catholic church doesn’t let you get a divorce”.
Yea. I don’t know what to do about it either.
If my father or grandfather were watching what I was doing, I would be violating every work ethic that they have held dear since 1932. But in all seriousness, I don’t think i could do my job at all if I had to keep at it for 8 hours straight. Come to think of it, I a not sure there exists any job in the universe that would keep my attention for 8 hours.
So, the coping mechanism for today – Clairol Hair Color. Medium Chocolate Brown. I also bought some highlights, but got a little wigged out that my hair would look like a pelt, so I rinsed it out before too much frost could set in.
