Push Up and Twist

Effective June 1, I am promoted at work to Tier 3 technical support. This is a good and bad thing. Good in that I get more pay and more capabilities in the datacenter. Bad in that I have more responsibilities and will be in the on-call rotation. I should be happy about it. Really, I should, but I’m just not feeling happiness for the outcome. I’m a guy who wants to go to work, do his hours, and go home to find some meaning in his life that is not tied to his job. I feel like I should be proud about the promotion, like I climbed a rung of the ladder on my own merit, but that’s not exactly the case. Due to a handful of people leaving the company this month, it’s essentially a battlefield promotion. “Your sargent stepped on a landmine, so congratulations, sargent!”

Because our staff has lost both of our overnight guys (among others), management has reactivated shift rotations for all eligible employees, me included. So this week I’m going to graveyard shift for a while. Here we go again. Time to hang the black plastic over my window and retrain myself how to sleep in the afternoon and be even more alone than usual. It was nice having that day-shift stability for the past five months, but nothing is forever. Nothing.

They also want to put me on the team that deals directly with our preferred customers. That’s great, I guess, but that means I’ll have to sit on conference calls and answer emails with customers who know my full name and direct number. I’ll be their guy, the man on-point to troubleshoot problems and contort to their custom whims. I should be proud of all this, but I’m not. The only bright spot here is that once I’m on this team, that will cement me back onto the dayshift because that’s when the special support hotline is open.

I just can’t be happy, eh?


Last night, I was walking down the hipster end of Sixth Street, just had a hipster slice of pizza at a hipster pizzeria, and then a hipster bird on a hipster sign shat on my hipster beard. It was magical.

Bottled Up

Due to a recent health issue, my doctor told me I had to stop drinking, give my body a rest. It’s not that I’m addicted (I’m not), it’s that I’m habitual. When there’s a bottle in my house, of course I’ll have some shots before bed. But I’ve been doing this daily — for the past three-something years. My liver’s not pickled or anything, because quite honestly I never got to the point of killing a fifth all by myself in a night, but that low level of alcohol knocked some things out of balance, caused me to go to bed dehydrated, have crappy sleep, and wake up hating the world. Now I go to bed hydrated, get crappy sleep, and hate the world in other ways.

So my most recent bottle was emptied about two weeks ago, and I haven’t been to the store since. I’m not saying I’ll never go back, or that I’ll never have another drink. That’s a bullshit claim. I’m saying that my health is something I need to look after, and that daily consumption may not have been killing me but it was making my health a burden to carry.

The downside is that I am increasingly pensive and irritable, to a hateful point. It’s surprising and it’s a scary thing. I don’t want to be that — I’m trying to take better care of myself by not drinking every goddamn day (only occasionally with other people around, for once). I don’t want to hate, don’t want to be antisocial, don’t want to have all these negative emotions, but goddammit I have no release now, nothing to pat me on the back and tell me things will be alright. Y’know?

Is this to be expected?