Hurt and Pissed

Dontcha just hate it when someone asks you how you are, and they really don't care or mean it? This past week has been the week from Hell. One of the guys that lives in the house I manage has been in the hospital since Thursday with a broken hip. I have been filling in many hours where I couldn't find coverage otherwise. This has not been fun, seeings how we have to provide 24 hour "sitter" coverage. In the last 2 weeks, I have worked over 100 hours, and I am only getting paid for 80. That's 20 hours of work I don't get paid for. That's 20 hours I didn't get to spend with my wife and kids. If I got paid like my staff do, that would be 20 hours overtime at time and a half. Translation: That's $448.20 I didn't make. I even travelled all the way to Poughkeepsie (26 miles) in a friggin' snow storm, just to ensure that my guy was not alone, and that the staff who did the overnight could go home and start his vacation (what's that?). Then I had to travel 26 miles home in a snow storm on top of that. Today my guy was discharged from the hospital (in Poughkeepsie) and transferred to a nursing home for rehab (in Kent, CT). After spending 9 hours at the hospital today, I then had to drive all the way to Kent to help him settle in there. After I left there (7pm), I still had to drive all the way to Stormville to my job, to do grocery shopping for the house. I didn't get out of work until 11pm (a 16 hour day). In passing conversation with a person who works for me, she asks "How are you?" My reply was that I was doing alright despite that fact that I am on a steady diet of hours worked this week. Her response? "Well, I don't feel sorry for you one bit." Well excuse me bitch! I wasn't looking for your sympathy, but maybe a little empathy would be nice. (I didn't actually say this, though, as I couldn't keep my jaw from dropping aghast). You know, I bust my ass for my job, and I do whatever I can for my guys. I have worked with them for 22 years, and they are more like brothers to me than anything else. Why the hell ask me how I am, if you ain't gonna at least try to understand how I feel?



In Essence Of Reality by:me

Don't stop for me, please,
No, don't waste your time.
'Cause you've got your own world,
And I'm here in mine.

Don't ask me my thoughts,
Just to put down in rhyme.
It just wouldn't matter
To you or your kind.

I know not of love,
Or the depth of a heart.
I can't even see
The light from the dark.

Don't ask how I'm doing;
To tell how I feel,
If I speak of ruin,
It would still be unreal.

For love hath no fear;
Nor a fury to tell,
It scorns me with coins
For an old wishing well.