I’m no longer sure I will
make it to retirement.
First of all, I started
this most recent career after many other unrelated careers came and went. It’s not that I don’t love what I do – I
absolutely do. It’s just that there is
so much goddamned minutiae.
Every time I turn around,
more minutiae.
I am being strangled by
minutiae.
Minutiae. Sounds like manure, and I’m surrounded by
people who spew an awful lot of it.
I’m going to steal a line
from one of the minutiae/manure spewers:
“I just cannot support that right now.”
I have another meeting
tomorrow where I will be told to do something else that’s not feasible and
probably not even logical, more minutiae that will require countless hours of
paperwork and tech input only to have it disappear into the black hole of some
filing cabinet, never to be seen nor heard from again.
I’m ready.
The moment I hear those
words, “Do you think you can...,” I will smile sweetly, shake my head gently,
and say oh-so-assuredly, “I’m so terribly sorry, but I just cannot support that
right now.”
Then I’ll go out into the
hallway, beat my head bloody against the cinderblock wall, and wonder why I
ever gave up my job as assistant manager at the book store, where I actually
got paid, appreciated, and respected for my knowledge without minutiae.
Or maybe I’ll throw the
window open ala Peter Finch and scream, “I’m as mad as hell, and I just cannot
support that right now!”
But the minutiae. Oh, the minutiae. It’s the albatross around my neck. Minutiae, minutiae everywhere, and many of us
know how that turns out. (Hint: The
albatross doesn’t make it.)
I’ve got a dog’s age
before I can officially retire and expect to be able to have enough money to at
least live in a van in Wal-Mart parking lots.
In the meantime, when the minutiae has driven me so crazy that I’m
nothing but a quivering mush of gibberish, I hope that one statement will remain
intelligible amongst all else, one moment of clarity may come through, and for
this, you will all know the secret of that moment.
Men in white coats: “I think it’s
safe to unbuckle the straitjacket now. Lady,
can you control yourself?”
Me (smiling slyly):
“Gentlemen … I just cannot support that right now.”
