JOB DISSATISFACTION

Dear Mrs. Crabby,

I work nights. Every night it’s the same thing. Over and over. It’s been this way from the beginning. I inherited this job from my mother. She patted me on the head, laughed like the dickens while saying “you sorry sod,” over and over, then flew off. I only see her on some holidays now, when I actually get a day off. She looks decades younger now and still calls me “sorry sod.”

This last week was the rudest of all. My supervisor, Sandy, told me I have to wear a different uniform to conform with the changing times. I finally had gotten used to the glitter tights and tutu, but now I have to wear this spandex, Goth looking thing. It scares me, I can only imagine what it’s going to do to the children if they wake up! It is humiliating. Especially since I have a tendency to gain on my upper thighs. Plus there is no place to carry something to hold the teeth! When I mentioned this, Sandy just chuffed and told me to figure it out.

At first I stood my ground and said I’m not changing uniforms. There’s just no reason for it and the new one does not work with the job requirements. So THEN I was called in by Sandy’s supervisor, Mr. Bogeyman. He is one scary executive, Mrs. Crabby. He said that if I do not comply with the new uniform standard, he will reassign me to nightmares clean up. That is the worst job of all! You think diarrhea smells bad? Nightmare messes are the worst because they make up things that are chemically impossible to exist in waking life. So I’ve had to cave and wear the damned Goth unitard. I carry the teeth in a leather sack, tied to a belt I found in Orion’s closet. It is OK looking, but it shines like the dickens in the winter time.

I am soooo miserable. What can I do to change my attitude Mrs. C.? I’ve got another 3,500 years until my progeny egg has hatched and grown enough to take over, the poor sod. How will I endure?

Signed,

T. Fairy

 

Dear T.F.,

You poor sod, hon! What a predicament for sure. I am sorry for your frustration.

When in such a pickle as this, one must be creative in the ways one can shut up and suck it up, when leaving is not an alternative. And there are ways.

First is an attitude shift. Instead of “going to work” which is drudge and drear and soul sucking, decide that you are now going to “play”, in your case, “tooth fairy!” Rent some comedy movies about the tooth fairy. I believe The Rock, Dwayne Johnson, has a very funny version. And that’s who you become in your work, only in your case wearing the Goth gear. Oh! I know, you could pretend to be a Ninja rescuer, saving the poor abandoned tooth from annihilation.

You get the idea. Role playing with yourself. It’s relaxing and enjoyable! I do this when frustrated with my Fenwick. I pretend I am his school teacher and he is a naughty student. He actually finds this enjoyable as well.

The only caution I give is that you keep this to yourself. Telling others can often create a reputation of “eccentricity” and “oddness” around you that ends up holding you back in the working world. And you find truly strange people at your doorstep looking for “a good time with that ruler of yours”, just as an example.

So, off you go now, hon! Be creative with your assignments and you’ll find that 3,500 years fly by like it’s no time at all!!

I.B. Crabby

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