Wednesday March 11 2009

I’ve just had the longest day of my life. So long it’s turned into tomorrow. I knew it would by the time I was able to write this.

Here’s how it started: While I was still in bed, (on Wednesday morning), I got a call from my boss asking if I could cover for someone who was sick. I said yes. I’d done it before and it had been all right. It was my first day back to work after my trip home to PNG* and I really wasn’t looking forward to it. Starting in the afternoon, as I normally do, would have meant having the whole day before me to resent the fact I had to go back to work. This way I just had to get up and get on with it.
* Maybe more on that later; loads of photos to show off.

I actually was meant to start on Tuesday. I was so pleased to get an extra day off from work! It was my mum’s birthday on the tenth and it was rather sad that I was going back to work that day and missing out on having dinner with her. It was so silly, well I think it was, getting that extra day off. My boss called the night before because she didn’t remember what day I started back. I told her it was Tuesday but then quickly added it was my mum’s birthday and could I have the day off to celebrate. (A bit impulsive for me). She was fine with it. Well she obviously would have my replacement on standby anyway. Still I thought it was very nice of her. My mum was so happy. They’re so cute sometimes.

What a way to go back to work. I did eleven and a half hours today. Two extra hours on my normal shift because there was so much to catch up on. It can’t be true, but it felt like they hadn’t done anything for the two weeks I was away. And they didn’t do any common courtesy things like rinsing the mop or emptying the vacuum cleaner at the end of their shift. It’s just rude. But then perhaps I could have done a better job when I was covering earlier in the day myself.

I was so tired but I kept working. Well you have to, right? It didn’t feel like I was going slower. Time felt like it was though. I was getting angry too. I knew I would have to work overtime and I decided to text my boss to let her know while at the same time asking if I’d get paid for the overtime. I don’t usually, which really shits me. It happened a lot when I first started. I always wrote it down when I signed out but I don’t think they actually read that when doing the pay.

The text I sent proves how tired I was. I’m not usually so blunt, especially in my defence. But why shouldn’t I get paid for the work I do? Let’s be realistic. It’s cleaning and sometimes it takes more time and effort. It would at least make it a bit fairer. That said I still hate my job and myself.

I think it’ll take me a little while to get back into the routine of work. Sometimes I can do the job on time or, better yet, in even less time. When those blissful days happen I don’t feel bad about leaving early because I have worked overtime often enough to make up the difference.

I had to write this now in case I feel more forgiving in the morning. I’ve had a shower and something to eat and already it doesn’t feel like such a big deal. Plus I finally got a reply to my text about overtime. My boss said yes. We’ll see though.