Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad

Today was a day. Today I wished I could move to Australia.

For those that might not understand that little reference, it comes from the children’s book, “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” by Judith Viorst. A movie was made recently, but I haven’t seen it and can’t vouch for it’s worthiness. However, I can state that the book is a definite favourite and belongs on every kid’s bookshelf.

Today, being my Friday, should have been a great day, because Tuesdays (and Saturdays) often are great days, even when things get a little crazy. It’s not like today was a bad day, at least as far as the actual work went, but things beyond my control were enough to push me over the edge.

At this point I think it bears pointing out that my frustration actually began yesterday. While yesterday wasn’t exactly a horrid day either, it was rather crazy for a Monday, and I was practically run off my feet within the first half of my shift. Just a mentally and physically exhausting day with a generous sprinkling of stress.

This morning began with a heaping dose of stress and things gone wrong, and the trend continued through the day.

  • I woke up to discover that my sleep app wasn’t on, even though I know I turned it on last night. Oh no! How will I know how well I slept without my app telling me?! Yes, I am being sarcastic. No, I do not need an app to tell me that I had a decent sleep.
  • I have my first cup of coffee when I arrive at work. Dark roast because I don’t really like my work place’s original blend coffee and only find our dark roast blend to be tolerable. There was no dark roast brewed when I arrived at work, and I didn’t want to wait the five minutes for a pot to brew. I drank half a cup of mediocre original blend coffee. Feel my pain. No sarcasm.
  • Within minutes of starting work early in the morning, every register went down. I spent countless minutes listening to the same pathetic song as I waited on hold for a tech. That was phone call #1.
  • Finally get a tech, wait some more and get the registers back online.
  • Just a few minutes later I need to make phone call #2 in order to get a ‘frozen order’ manually removed from a monitor. More of the same pathetic song as I waited on hold. Again. Easy fix once I get a person on the line.
  • Go on with work. Crazy busy morning but decent.
  • Perform the end of day routine on all the registers at noon prior to doing all the office stuff. No problems.
  • Count the tills. Discover that the drive-thru till was on the wrong shift, even though I had put it on the correct shift first thing in the morning…before the tills went down. The reboot must have set it back to the graveyard shift. Not too big of a deal but a hassle I really didn’t need.
  • Finish the tills, count my deposit and move on to doing the paperwork on the computer. There is no financial information from the registers on the computer! This is where stuff hit the fan.
  • Phone call #3 and more of the exact same song as I wait on hold and wait and wait and wait and wait.
  • I do what paper work I can as I sit with my shoulder holding the phone to my ear.
  • Finally get a tech, explain my problem, make it quite clear that I did not screw up the ring off, and then get told that the problem lies within one of the registers and I need to make another phone call.
  • Seriously?!
  • Phone call #4 and, you guessed it, the same music! If I had a shotgun at that point in time…
  • More time on hold. Twiddle my thumbs because I’ve done all that I can do without the missing computer numbers.
  • Finally get a tech, explain my problem. I need to make sure nobody uses that particular till while the tech fixes the problem. It’s going to take a while. There is a line of customers. C’est la vie!
  • “This is going to take a while. Can I put you on hold?”
  • More music. The same song. Shoot me now!
  • Once the problem was resolved I was able to finish up my paper work…only ten minutes past the end of my shift!
  • While on hold and trying to multi-task (because that’s what I do), I bashed my finger. It wasn’t bad. I will live, but it was just one more bump on a rather bumpy day. On another note, I almost chopped my finger while cutting potatoes for dinner, but I didn’t even break the skin. It could have been nasty though.

Today was the kind of day that would have been perfect for a little run after work. In fact, as I sat in the office on hold, I kept thinking about going for a run. Running isn’t really an option right now, but I gave serious thought to doing it anyway. I desperately needed the mental release that a run would give me. A co-worker said I should do it, but I knew that wasn’t a good idea. I sent a text to my chiropractor asking how much crap I’d be in if I went for a run. His response: 3 inches. I don’t know what you think, but I think that 3 inches is a lot of crap to be in. Since I have an appointment with my chiropractor on Thursday, I really don’t want to be wading through 3 inches of crap, especially not after trudging through 6 inches of crap over the past two days! Besides, do I really want to risk a set-back? Is a two kilometre run really worth potential hip pain for weeks? When I have a powerlifting competition to train for? I don’t think so! At least that’s what I’m telling myself. I’m not sure I believe it.

So what does a mentally fried woman do when she is finally finished work on her Friday afternoon after two gruelling days? Well, if she can’t lift heavy weights or go for a run, she grabs a coffee from her neighbourhood Starbucks, where the barista showers love on her Star Wars wallet. Then she goes home, sips coffee and regurgitates her day for her husband. Her husband expected her to be sipping wine, but she opted to show some class by waiting at least until she began preparing supper. During supper prep, the music was cranked and she sang out loud with all of her favourite songs. Perhaps there was a shimmy or a shake thrown in for good measure…or not because she really doesn’t dance! She let down her hair. She ate. A lot. She poured another glass of wine as she blogged. There might even be another glass of wine before she goes to bed. Exhausted. Or maybe she’ll move to Australia!

 

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