I need a job, because I need incomeThat's what I know.
the job at Rantoul is a good job with good pay
I don't have a choice about working
It's very hard to find jobs right now
I can't afford to be picky
if I don't do everything I can to make this work I'll regret it
the commute is, after all, impossible
I am utterly miserable.
I don't know what the hell my problem is.
Look: every single job I've ever gotten--every one--I have approached with optimism and the expectation of success. I have never, never, ever felt like this about any job I've ever held, whether it was stocking shelves, writing technical manuals, fixing computers, or wiping butts.
Why not now?
Why do I approach each day with dread? Why can't I sleep when I know I'm going to work the next day? What is it about that place--with nice people and decent work environment and good pay--that fills me with such dismay whenever I think about being there every day of the week?
Is it laziness? Or is it something else? And why can't I figure it out?
Okay: having tried the commute once this week, I guess it's pretty obvious that it's a no-go. If I'd been staying in a hotel room down there, four hours of sleep would have been problematic but doable, because I'd only have to drive fifteen minutes and staying awake for a drive that short is usually not a problem. It's when you're going down a long, straight stretch of road for an hour that "highway hypnosis" sets in and next thing you know you're in a ditch. Especially when you've only gotten eight hours of sleep out of the past two days.
So where am I?
The first thing I need to do is to decide if I really want to continue to work there. The problem is, I DON'T KNOW.
I'm fine when I'm there, for the most part; but the rest of the time I hate it. I don't know why. It's not the work; for all my complaining, I didn't expect the job to be roses and tea in the garden--I expected it to be work, and as far as that goes this job is a ton easier than my job at Target was. (Which, for the record, I generally liked, the bullshit notwithstanding.) Marking, drilling, and tapping a zillion holes is tedious but it's not hard and it's not laborious, and my time at Target was more than enough to prove to me that I can buckle down and do mindless tasks that require physical labor.
It's not the people. Everyone there is pleasant enough. I don't know anybody but that'll come with time, and there are some people I can make small talk with even now.
It's got to be the location; I think I don't want to move. Well, I don't have a choice, do I? If I want the job, I obviously have to move closer to it, and that means taking down the blab slab and moving the computer and all the other stuff that goes with it. Spending money on an apartment instead of spending money on gas; it'll all end up being the same, I suppose, because with gas sitting over $4 per gallon it's about $1,000 per month in fuel to commute. You can get a pretty nice apartment down there, and pay utilities on it, for that.
...and even when I consider that, I realize that--while I don't really want to move--the distaste for moving is not strong enough to cause me to feel like this. I could find a nice place that's got enough room for the cats to romp around in, and not break the bank...and probably end up at least as comfortable there as I am here. And it's close enough that I wouldn't have to bring everything at one go, either; I could easily rent a U-Haul for one trip to move the big stuff, and then just make the occasional trip back for more stuff as time went on. Eventually I'd have everything down there.
* * *
Well, I've gotten two separete pep talks from two different siblings and I've basically been given marching orders: go work asshole. So I've got things to do, and I'd better get on them.