It’s been a little over a month now. And I came to the conclusion that I Hate Work! This isn’t just one of them “I’m having a bad day” rants. But an real epiphany; an “AH Ha” moment; or more correctly [I am in Corrections you know], an “I can’t stand this crap” moment.
This morning I got up, published a blog post, made nice comments on everyones blog, took out the garbage, puttered in the garden, and at 7:00 am, before getting on my bike to go to work [Exxon can take their $4.00 a gallon gas and government subsidies and shove them up their corporate arses], Came to the realization that I basically hated every minute of my thirty year career as a Probation Officer. I didn’t want to be there, do that (bust people for drug use?), and at every opportunity, looked for ways to shave time off the beginning and endings of my days. Oh yeah, and while there, practice as much non-doing as possible. Hey I wasn’t a slouch, but really highly productive. I just viewed work as something undesirable and utterly distasteful that I wanted to get over with ASAP, so I had more time to Play.
What was cool when I was really fighting crime, and not this post retirement sit on your ass all day in front of a computer gig (sounds like blogging), was when I got to go out into the “field”. AKA make home-calls out in the community. Usually people on probation have to come into the office for their monthly “reporting”. That’s a ten minute charade wherein they lie their asses off, and I feign some real concern. Everyone is happy, especially the probationers if I don’t make them pee into a little jar to see if they be usin’ drugs. Hey those bloodshot, droopy eyes with constricted pupils, not to mention indifferent demeanor, are probably symptoms of the flu, Not drug use, and I don’t want to get sick.
Anyway, going out in the field is how we get to see our clients in their natural habitat. Kinda like a National Geographic Special, except without cameras, but with Kevlar vests, pepper spray and handcuffs. It was also a good way to waste away a day going to coffee, a few stores, or just park the County Car and take a nap. An actual home call was a quick in and out affair (not to be confused with office romance) and over with fast. I was never armed, so Officer Safety was a big priority. If a situation even looked bad, I was out of there and fast. Let the Cops deal with them.
Most of my clients were never home anyway. And those that were, especially juveniles, were often passed out on a couch, in a darkened room with I Love Lucy blasting on the TV. I even had a theory at the time that the “Lucy” theme (come on now, you know it by heart) subliminally caused sociopathic behavior in young adults. That’s all these ‘fools’ seemed to watch: I Love Lucy. Oh..Lucy. Ohhh Ricky. Barf!
“So Hansi…Why are you now working again?” Greed, fear of the economy…a challenge? Going back to work was kinda like having sex again after a long dry spell. Although the sex in Probationland is usually anal in nature, it did feel good going back again. Still had my old chops. It was like the once ya learn to ride a bicycle analogy….ya never forget. But more like the date from hell, big mistake analogy when ya wake up in the morning, roll over in bed, look over at what’s snoring next to ya and say, “What The Hell Have I Done?”
Here’s the real irony. In this lousy economy where people are dyin’ to get good paying jobs. This one falls into my lap, and I hate it. Even more ironic. My daughter (who was once a crime fighter like her Daddy, but now is a Private Investigator working for defense attorneys) also teaches Criminal Justice classes at a Vocational College, where kids are paying big bucks to become probation officers and the like. Here I sit and gotta think: Be careful for what you ask for.
Hey…this didn’t turn out to be so bad after all. One more trip to the bathroom and I’m outta here for the day. Life is all about balance. And if ya work in a toxic environment, one must gain their balance before it takes it toll on you.