Feeding on the forest floor.

I think they are trying to kill me at work. The boss is gone on a special assignment and they have appointed me to direct our activities. I really didn't want this. I have been in charge before, for most of my career. That was enough. The last six years as an hourly employee have been pretty decent because I could leave it all at the door every night.

Of course my brief freedom has been reflected in a reduction of earnings but I guess that's OK; I never really made much money no matter what I did. It was nice to have weekends off for a while but all glory is fleeting. Being in charge has required a shift to salary from hourly, actually a pay reduction as there is no more overtime.

Now I have the burden of leadership, no weekends and no money. The dreaded management trifecta. Charter business has exploded this week with baseball season opening and military moves. I would be tempted to seek other employment but it seems that few are hiring and even fewer seem to treasure the skills I have acquired at the airport. I considered retiring but the wife preempted those thoughts as she is still working and will be for a little longer. She has almost no interest in being the only one of us gainfully employed. Retirement is also another victim of the recession: the position is available but the pay has sharply fallen off. So for now I must celebrate just being employed. The prospect of longer hours and harder work holds little except the pay check itself.

When I can stand it no longer, maybe I will go get a job as a car rental garageman. They spend their days driving, refueling, vacuuming and washing new cars. Corporate controllers in far away cities do not call garagemen and demand to be informed about details of the inventory, food cost, manpower reports or profit and loss. Garagemen are not concerned with covering vacations or hearing the complaints of those who have sensed themselves wronged by the corporate structure. Garagemen are not awakened at unreasonable hours because an inconsiderate employee, ravaged by strong drink, failed to report for work. Yes. I want to be a garageman.

For now I will have to see it through as I have the past thirty years, laboring far too hard for far too little. Garagemen don't earn much, but they do leave it at the door.
My kids are grown and gone. Our home's mortgage has been satisfied. Mark my words, let Lufthansa make one small error--just one--and I am getting on the waiting list at Avis!