A Failure of Epic Proportions

So, suffice to say I’ve been quiet the last two weeks. Really, since my birthday. But with winter break and NYE and going on vacation to Florida – then returning to 20 degree temps and getting sick – well, it was understandable that it would take me a little longer to get back into the rhythm of things.

And then I got a job. And at that job, I lasted 6 days.

What was the job?

I was working at the warehouse of my very favorite online used bookstore, which happens to be a stone’s throw from my house. The bosses were wonderful. The co-workers lacked the negative attitudes you see in a lot of office and temp positions. People went out of their way to be nice to me and help me figure out the ropes – maybe because they could see me struggling so much.

So what was the problem?

Well, maybe I never truly got over my illness from late December.

There were precarious stacks of books that fell as I was trying to reach JUST the ONE.

Splinters and broken fingernails are not a laughing matter to me.

There was a certain door that needed a new latch, because only door whisperers could open it, but that I needed to open several times a day.

There’s the nerdy girl who is more than aware that having a round shape is not the same as being in good shape, and moving an extra hundred plus pounds from one side of the warehouse to the other wore on me.

And there’s the night owl who wants to write and sell books for a living who was having a dickens of a time getting up and to work on time (I would go to bed early/on time, but kept waking up throughout the night thinking I needed to get up for work). And when I got home, I was dead. My body was dead. My brain was dead. Some of my comments to people misused their/there/they’re, for grammar’s sake! Anything I added to Works In Progress would be suspect.

There’s a part of me that still recoils from the last warehouse job I had, and just entering a warehouse is kind of hive-inspiring (I didn’t tell them that when they hired me, because BOOKS).

There was my husband trying to help out and play Mr. Mom when I came home exhausted – and the fact that my 40 hour week earned less than one of his 10 hour days.

So there were a lot of less-than-significant things. But Wednesday is hump day. Hump day is for camels. This camel’s back was broken. Time to move on.

"O My Camel -- You Did What?" -- Morguefile Photo

It’s a tough thing to acknowledge that you have a comfort zone. It’s equally tough to know when you’re reaching outside of it – and when you’re plunging into something altogether different from what you were expecting. But it’s good for me – my hubris was getting a bit out of whack, for example – to try new things, to see what I could learn, and to grow. Sometimes, I even need to admit defeat. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying other new experiences. Who could succeed without at least a few epic failures? And who likes those people, anyway? I’d rather celebrate my bumps and bruises.

So as I lick my wounds over this “failure of epic proportions,” and get over the nastiness of whatever this bug is (because seriously – it needs to GO), I will be on the lookout for the next adventure or disaster. Whichever I find, I’ll be more than happy to share it with you.