“Don’t Make Any Babies”

Quick note: No, I didn’t make a birthday post this year because my birthday was terrible. I don’t want to talk about it.

I don’t want to be a parent, but I feel like the “scare her out of pregnancy” tactic is getting old.

I’m 25. I’m in no financial place to have a child, but were that and my lack of desire not issues, I don’t think I’d be terrible if I chose to be a parent. The matter with my family is neither of those things are why they still tell me “don’t make any babies”. The reason is they believe it’s impossible to have a romantic relationship without having kids.

What’s most annoying is this often comes from my grandfather: a lifelong addict and marriage-long cheater who had kids with his affair, and went on to cheat on her. Of all the people to try to give me any kind of life advice, he is the most unqualified. This is the same person who didn’t want me around my friends’ brothers or fathers if they happened to be present when I visited. I genuinely feel it’s a kind of projection for him. He assumes every man is unfaithful and thoughtless because he is, and he has no remorse for it (he calls it “satisfying his needs”). My father and my uncle aren’t unfaithful, but they’re also not much better when it comes to relationships. One thinks it’s the girlfriend’s or wife’s job to take care of 90% of the household and bills, and the other thinks women are too complicated and tricky (but also refuses have any male friends; figure that one out).

I’m not claiming to have everything figured out, but I don’t think any of them can lecture me on relationships, let alone the choice to be a parent outside of common sense. Unfortunately, my family’s history only backs them up. Every parent I know within my close family had their child with someone who left them, even if they have more than one kid with the same man (in that scenario, the other kid(s) is the result of the couple getting back together for a few months, only to break up again). Obviously, I don’t know the details of all of their situations, but I despise it’s ultimately held up against me about why parenthood is terrible. Really, it has nothing to do with parenthood. Outside of unfortunate circumstances, they suck at choosing partners.

It’s weird to me they still feel the need to talk to me about “having babies” like I’m still 15. And even then, I thought it was ridiculous. I didn’t have any interest in dating until I was 19 anyway, but the automatic assumption I would’ve been a teen parent if I did annoys me beyond comprehension. At 25, my immediate family still acts like I’ll become pregnant if I so much as breathe on a man. I really wish that was an exaggeration. If I really wanted to become pregnant against all logic, I would’ve done it by now. Their scare tactics really didn’t work when I was a teenager either. I knew from a young age – about nine or so – children were a huge responsibility, and I only saw more and more of how huge when I became a teen and learned about pregnancy and childbirth. That’s the one good thing that came out of being an older sibling: taking care of my sister was more than enough for me to realize I don’t want to do it voluntarily. For the same reason, it’s probably not surprising if I wanted to be a parent, I’d be “one and done”. To this day, I envy only children. And no, siblings don’t prevent loneliness. Outside of school, where my friends were, I was always lonely. You can be lonely with other people around. “Lonely” and “alone” are not interchangeable.

Since I haven’t “made any babies”, my family assumes their scare tactics work, and I don’t think worth it to tell them they’re wrong. Part of me does wish I could prove them wrong – that it’s possible to be a parent in a committed, healthy relationship and raise kids as a couple – but aside from being a terrible reason to have kids, I doubt they would change their minds. They are stubborn (not hard to see where my own was inherited from), and I’d rather not spend my life fighting to prove them wrong. Some people are motivated by that idea. I find it tiring.

Jealousy: Co-Worker Edition

Because I already have a post titled Jealousy that’s more recent than I thought.

I’m just going to make this a confession post and admit it: the green-eyed monster is real.

Yes, I’m jealous.

I’m jealous of the manager who gets to work with her boyfriend and her best friend, train the latter, and was able to get her best friend hired for said reason (her boyfriend was already there). She gets to spend all her breaks and most of her shift with him/her/them as a result. I once did have a good friend of mine at work during 2017’s seasonal period and it was awesome! I miss her being there so much, but she moved on to a better job, so I’m not unhappy she stayed. I just miss having my friend work with me. I’d kill to be able to work with my best friend or my boyfriend, and being able to share a job with both would be an absolute miracle I’d thank fate/destiny/whatever every day for.

I’m jealous of the co-workers who get nearly a week off, and who get a weekend day off. I work every weekend, and even when my schedule was limited due to school, I never had half a week off, let alone nearly an entire week. I can’t get a weekend off unless I request it and the request is approved. I can’t remember the last time I did have a Saturday or a Sunday off, let alone both. I think I’d cut my arm off just for the privilege.

Yes, I enjoy money, but I also enjoy having my sanity intact and having time for anything else instead of having to force it because I’m dead tired. Call it “adulthood” if you want. My sanity is still slipping and I feel nothing for my job but my frustration. I do not care about customer service. I do not care about cashiering. I don’t even care about being on time (though I still am). Honestly, I just care that I get through and go home. The only reason I haven’t left is I’ve found nothing that’s worth leaving for. Any retail job would be the same, and retail is utter trash.

Stay out of retail, kids.

No, I Don’t Care About Your Corporate Visit

Not any more than you care about my safety anyway.

One of the benefits of having a low traffic blog. I’m positive no one at work knows this blog exists, let alone reads it. Even if they do, I don’t hold a weapon to anyone’s head and force them to read it.

No, I don’t care about your corporate visit. You don’t pay me enough to care.

Your corporate sucks. When have they done anything to make life easier for the employees? Don’t answer that.

Actually, do answer that. I’ll wait.

Why is a part-time person scheduled for 30 hours to begin with? Isn’t there a reason it’s called part-time? Forgive me, but last I remember, full-time was a big dud for me. Supposedly, I was too awful to remain in that position part-time either. I can’t have been that terrible if I’m still thrown on the floor for your corporate visits.

“We need you.” No, you don’t. If one employee leaving thirty minutes early makes that much of a difference in preparation for your silly visit, you’re already doomed. When are you not in need? As much as I hate call outs, I don’t blame them one bit. I’d call out too if I didn’t need the money.

You pay me to stand behind a counter, ring people, and take money. And if my knowledge is correct, new cashiers make the same wage I do now, whereas I started out lower. I guess that’s one good thing to come out of my failed promotion. Had I never asked, my wage would’ve never gone up. How fair. I hope I don’t need to add a sarcasm tag to that.

“Look at all the people you’ve served over the years.” So, what? Anyone with a pulse and lack of mobility problems can be a cashier. Why is this called “serving”? This is not an all-important job. This is not the military. It’s supporting people’s spending habits. Nothing more.

You always need help. You never have enough. Why, I don’t know and at this point, I’m too exasperated to care about finding out.

I remember when I accepted every call-in, when I routinely gave up my plans to work extra, when I once had 43 hours in a week from being called in, when I worked every day of a week and more. And I will never do it again. Partially due to losing nearly $100 to taxes (F*** the government! And no, I’m not benefiting, considering I had to go into debt to get higher education), and partially because it took me way too long to figure that in the end, being that kind of employee means nothing. All I get in return is the loss of my sanity, time, and desire to stay alive. Working fewer hours, I still get that, so I may as well keep one of the three that I can.

“Don’t you ever want to be in a manager’s position?” So, I can stress out even more, physically age faster, and panic over corporate visits? So, I can tell employees time and again how much I have to go through and make them question why I took the job if it’s so miserable (I’ve never met a manager who seemed happy with their position). So I can assert how much more tired I am, how much more I have to deal with, how much worse my day is going? So I can lecture them on all the hell a manager deals with and how they don’t make it easier because they have their own problems?

Not even in my nightmares.

No, I don’t care about your corporate visit. You can’t justify any reason I should. I’m tired, I’m drained, and I have long run out of patience.

You’re on your own. Like me, and everyone else.