Limits

I’ve been without my regular computer for some time; I hope by week’s end I will have it back. So, all the blogs for the past few months have been written on an identical yet foreign computer. Now this may not be a big deal to some, especially since I have an identical back-up… but you know it’s not truly identical. You see all my music and a good chunk of my writing is on my primary digital interface. Which sucks since I really enjoy cuing up my own personal soundtracks and try to make sure my fingers can keep up with the tempo that blasts out of the speakers and into my waiting ears.

            So, where does that leave me? Especially since I don’t do spotify and I hate listening to streaming radio? Simple, youtube. For tonights selection I have cued up “Iron Maiden Rock in Rio” the 2001 version. It is truly one of my favorite playlists to write to. And after a night like tonight, a night in which I almost lost my cool. I saw red and was on the cusp of reaching out with my greedy stubby fingers and grabbing a hold of the bloody edges and immersing myself into a pool of verbal savagery that borders on the precipice of physical and mental torture, I was able to step back and hold inside of me the maniac that had rooted himself just behind my eyes and taken root in the pre-historic Cro-Magnon man part of my brain.

            I know, I know, you’re saying to yourself “Skip? What could make you so upset, so angry? So volatile?”

            Simple, I was accused of something I believe and feel I did not do. Now, any one of you who’ve ever worked inside the food service or even the retail service industry know, a person takes a lot of shit from people. Customers, fellow employees and even owners; tonight was such a night.

            It is not uncommon, in the place I work part-time, to get blamed for things that go wrong. Even if you are not there, or it clearly wasn’t your fault, someone always seems to get accused. Right or wrong, this is the way it is. I can honestly say that ninety-nine percent of the time I pretend I’m a duck in situations like this. I just let the water and verbal sludge just sluice right off my back. I don’t get confrontational, I don’t try and defend myself, I don’t demand justice or evidence. I just shrug my shoulders, grin and walk away. Because I know that no matter what I say, what I do, or even what evidence to the contrary I may have, it won’t mean anything to anyone. I won’t get an apology, I won’t get an expunged reputation, and I won’t feel vindicated. I just chalk it up to people who’ve had a lifetime of repression and disappointment trying to make themselves feel superior to others. This keeps me sane, that and the fact that I know my shift is only four to five hours long and I’ve suffered worse mental and physical torture at the hands of trained military personnel.

            I’m not going to go into too many details, since I’ve already given you the gist of the events you really don’t need to know the raw, human emotions. I will say that initially, I laughed the whole situation off. Like I normally do. But after thirty minutes of passive-aggressive backhanded comments made to others I work with and in front of me I finally had had enough. That’s when the red crept into the corners of my eyes. There were four of us all cramped into a five foot by three foot space and I was forced to take a step back in an attempt calm my maniac, to chain him back to the walls of my id so that he would not get the best of my demeanor. After all, isn’t that when your opponent wins? When you lose control. Yeah, that is what happens. They win, you lose. Game over.

            So I took a step back, collect my thoughts and once composed, stepped forward again and with four simple sentences, in a raised but not angry voice and through gritted teeth I unleashed my defense towards my accuser.

            My accuser, looked as if I had just ripped out her heart, taken a big bite of it, threw it on the floor and then squashed the evil, black, festering and rotten thing under my boot. The accuser turned and walked away. The accuser also refused to speak to me the rest of the night. No loss on my behalf.

            I say that simply because I know there are people in the world who always see the negative of any given situation and they thrive on it. The negativity of life is what gives them solace in their own existence. Others misery is like mana to them. They look for it in any and all situations. Someone dies? They look for all the bad things they’ve heard others say about that person and then regurgitate it back into existence. Someone gets fired, they thrive on the gossip of the where’s and whys of the termination.

            The misery of others is what makes their misery more tolerable. I can understand that. After all, I like horror stories and movies. Although I don’t watch too many horror movies these days, I can still understand the psyche of someone whose only happiness comes from others travails and trials. I’m not like that. That is to say, I don’t do it all the time. There are times when a person actually gets their comeuppance and I just chuckle to myself while thinking the great creator does get things right and that while I don’t always believe in karma, it does occasionally happen.

            I know this is not over, it never is. I know I will have to go back on Saturday night and there will be repercussions to my actions. I really don’t care. I don’t often get pushed to the limit of the amount of shit I can take and when I do, I always feel better about standing up for what I believe is right. I do know this though, after all was said and done, one of my fellow employees who witnessed the entire affair said that I had acted in a reserved manner and that she thought I was going to lose it but I didn’t.

            That alone makes me feel better about the whole situation. So my question to you, on this damp night, what gets your ire up? What keeps you from going bat-shit crazy and what is your limit?

            Have a great week.