Dreading a Monday

I keep telling myself I will be past it in 24 hours. That as I look at the clock tomorrow evening at 6:27, the meeting I have been dreading for 4 days will be in the rear view mirror and I will be able to exhale. And while I am sure the feeling of relief will be short lived, it will be nice to feel the blood pressure come down tomorrow.

My last post, on Thanksgiving Day, was a reminder to me about why I do the job that I do. Being able to use my position as a vehicle to help people during their hour of need was, is, and will continue to be the driving force that gets me out of bed when the alarm clock goes off at 6 am everyday. But as a company, we are far from perfect. Sometimes we make mistakes and our clients are left with a not so great taste in their mouths. And that bothers me on a very personal level. Because when I am standing with them, holding their hands as they survey the burned remains of their home and memories, I promise them that we will take care of them. And I do not like to look like a liar. So I lose sleep and take the responsibility when a rare failure in our service crops up. I have done it before. And as I pull up to that home at 4pm tomorrow and that familiar knot is in my belly, I will do so again.

It is in those moments, those few occasions that I have to deal with a less than adequate ending, that I question everything about my job. Am I the right guy for this? Would I do better to go back to commercial work, where sentimental attachments are replaced by professionals who understand schedules and budgets and the business side of the industry? Would it be prudent to return to my restaurant roots, where if a meal is cooked wrong all I have to do is make another, and a mistake does not cost thousands of dollars. Or should I start looking at something else all together? Is 40 too old to decide what I really want to be when I grow up? And I ponder the questions, until the storm passes and I settle back into what I do. But each time, the passion burns a little dimmer, the confidence grows a little weaker, and the skin grows a little thinner. And I wonder what else is out there?

Could I act? I have thought about the stage and almost joined the Little Theatre off Broadway in Grove City a couple years ago. It may not be a career but it could be an outlet from the stress I have at work and do not want to bring home. Then again, I last acted in the seventh grade, in the Lynchburg Middle School Christmas musical. And while I was the lead, I am sure adult roles require much more commitment than my role as Father Time did then.

Maybe I do stand up? Miss B and I talked about that a few years ago. She pursued it. I did not. But I like to believe I can make people laugh. But what would I do if I heard crickets? That's a scary thought, and if it happened, I am not sure if I would ever try again.

Perhaps I could write for a living? I would love to think I could commit to a novel and I have a pretty screwed up imagination at times that would capture an audience's attention.  But it seems daunting considering I barely keep up with the blog. And the writing of reality shows seems to have faded away after being so within reach a few short months ago.

Like any person in any job, I have great days and I have bad days. But I have never really looked at my career as a job before now. I have always thought that I get paid to do what I love. And while I do not know if that has changed, I think I have reached a point that I have a lot of questions that need answered before I commit the rest of my working life to burned out homes and potential service failures.

Tomorrow I will fight the pit in my gut, swallow my pride, and do whatever I can to restore these clients faith in myself and in my company. It is what I do. For now.

Day # 280. I got to sleep in this morning, my sweetheart made her famous and much anticipated lasagna for dinner, and the Bengals won. Even though I am dreading the Monday that awaits, overall, it is still good to be me!


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