Whine and Cheese

I have reached a mid life crisis. I am 37 years old. At this rate, I will die at 74. I’m sure that is the formula that everyone uses to figure out how long they are going to live, right?

Unfortunately I am one of those people that cannot convince myself that my job is simply a means to an end, not the end itself. I must find meaning in my job as I do in my life…Guess what that means children??? That’s right! All the jobs that have meaning to me have a really crappy pay scale.

What is the koen for my present job?

“What is the sound of one soul sucking?”

For those that believe that their job is just a means to an end, their job must give them enough money to actually afford the end, or at least an exciting middle. My job pays me more than most comparable jobs and that is the damn sticky wicket. I worked in non-profit happily but impoverished for five years. When our roof started to leak and we couldn’t afford to fix it, the rubber met the proverbial road. I got a new job and I have been on an upwardly mobile pay scale and a drastically decreasing happiness scale. Now that our house is fixed and we are in debt for that, I believe I am stuck.

My current retirement plan is to have a massive coronary while at my desk. I will be sure not to call 911 because I can’t afford to take the time off work so I had better die from it. I’m keeping an emergency supply of rat poison in case I only have a mild coronary.

So that is what is rolling around in my head as I watch my kids do volunteer work this summer and explore their likes and dislikes when it comes to the wide wide world. Should I do what my mother did with me and pound it into their heads that you MUST HAVE A JOB THAT PAYS WELL NO MATTER WHAT!? My mom worked on the assembly line for General Motors. She worked at a mind numbing, muscle aching job for good wages, good benefits, and managed to raise three girls on her own. She ended up going through two bouts with cancer and while undergoing chemo therapy and all of its ensuing nausea and weakness, she never missed a day of work. Until she died that is. Hey, at least we shared the same ideas on retirement! All this to say, I wish I had her ability to turn off my mind and just do my damn job and stop caring that I feel like it is dragging me down to a very dark place.

I will be able to someday pay for my roof. I will be able to someday pay off my medical bills. I will someday be able to tell my children that they better get some damn scholarships and financial aid and three jobs at a time in order to get through college because even if they wanted me to cash in my retirement plan to pay for their college, all that will get them is a box of rat poison and a DNR.

I have my first summertime vacation coming up next week. After that, the job hunt goes into high gear.

It’s a good thing I can’t drink on my owie-pee pee diet…I might never stop.