Friday, August 10, 2007

Why I'm such an ass.

A lot of people ask me why I'm so cocky and such an asshole. They wonder why I think I'm so much better than my coworkers, and why, if I hate my job so much I don't do something else. I don't have a really good explanation for any of it. What I am going to do is give you a brief review of the last year and a half of my life. Hopefully, this will clarify why I write the way I do.

I left Utah after divorcing my first wife. (I'll talk about that later). I moved back to my hometown with a great job in hand. It was pretty much the perfect job for me. It's what I went to school for, I had lots of experience, and I was set to make about 60 grand a year. That's a lot of money for the area in the Midwest I live in. This was the perfect chance to start my life over and I was still young enough to really enjoy life and put the past behind me.

The first six months of my life back home were amazing I was supervising a small lab at a blood bank, making more money than I knew what to do with and working prime hours (from 2 till 10) There was more than enough time for me to get off work and go party, especially considering my favorite watering hole was just across the street, and within walking distance of my apartment.

I made new friends left and right, got in touch with old friends, and always had enough money to buy whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. I was still going to the gym, I looked great, I felt great, everything in my life was perfect. exactly what I pictured five years ago in school. I could have any girl I wanted, and more often than not went home with any girl I wanted. I was hanging out with models and partying like a rock star. To top it all off I even loved my job.

This all came to an end in basically one day. I went to the lake with a friend over a holiday weekend and got hammered beyond anything half-way reasonable. I drank on the way there, I drank in the sun all day, and I even cracked open a few beers in the way home. I realize this was horribly irresponsible and reckless, but I thought I was invincible. I made it all the way home on ridiculously curvy roads and decided I was going to Toast God for allowing me to make it home safely. I make it to my favorite watering hole and see a closed sign, shit! What am I going to do now. Most responsible people would call this a sign and say go home and sleep it off. Oh no... not me. I took this a symbol from God to finally go exploring the bars of downtown. I found an upscale martini bar and spent the rest of the night drinking $40 a shot Johnny Walker blue label. My tab ended up being about $1000 bucks. I talked to and hit on every over the hill, used to be hot, wanna be socialite I could find.

The night came to an end and I thought it was a good idea to drive even though I don't really know if I had an understanding of where I was or what I was doing. I ended up passing out in my car and running into a huge granite sign in the middle of a cemetery. I don't remember how I even got there. The cemetery was on the other side of town and nowhere near my apartment. I honestly believe it's a miracle that I am alive. I hit a 5000lb granite sign head on, it broke in half with one piece slamming into the driver's side door pinning that door shut. When the police arrived I was conscious and outside the car. even though no one can seem to explain how I got out of the car. my door was pinned shut and the passenger side was shut and locked.

The police gave me the option of going to jail or to the hospital. I chose to go to the hospital. They talked with me for awhile, and even called my family for me. when they were going through my wallet looking for an ID they found my old military ID and and old military insurance card. They asked if I was still in. I said no. They asked about my time in Iraq. I didn't give them many details, just that I'd been back for about a year. They said Thank you for your service. That comment kinda pissed me off, I thought they were patronizing me. They weren't. I actually got out of about 9 tickets that night and a DUI. Thank you officer Parks.

I went back to work a short time later and was told I no longer had a job. I asked why, and was told that I violated a character clause in my contract. I was working for a non-profit organization that had a reputation to keep. They told me they found out about the alcohol involved in the accident because of myspace. I know... how dumb. I wrote a post about how how I felt after the accident and how disappointed I was in myself.

A friend of mine at the time who was going to school about three hours away came down the next weekend to take care of me. She was a good friend, and now an even better mother for my child. That's right. I knocked a girl up the weekend after all this. So here I was, jobless, moneyless (I didn't save a penny), and about to be a father. The organization I had worked for had contracts with all the local hospitals. I couldn't even get an interview anywhere for the longest time, despite being overqualified and having a a letter of recommendation from the surgeon general of the army.

I was blackballed.

The only job I could get that I could make immediate cash was waiting tables or bar tending. I worked several jobs waiting and bar tending for the next few months. Until my ego got the better of me. I thought to myself; I'm too well educated to be waiting tables, and having redneck pieces of crap talk to me the way they did. This was probably the low point in my entire life. I was living in a shitty apartment that only had a bed and a t.v. with no cable. I would make money that night and spend every dime I had getting drunk trying to forget how much my life sucks. All the while, I still had a baby on the way.

I was an alcoholic piece of shit.

I quit waiting tables and started stocking shelves for minimum wage. (Huge improvement, I know.) It was a little better at least I didn't have cash to waste at the bar. Eventually someone gave me an interview. I've never interviewed for a job that I haven't been offered. This was no different. I started working at this hospital about seven months ago and I hate it. I hate it because I went from having a secretary to being a glorified secretary (I'm not kidding myself I'm a glorified secretary, I shuttle specimens to the appropriate departments and get pissed on all day long). I went from having everything to not being able to buy a new pair of shoes for myself. I went from partying all night. to staying up all night trying to get my little boy to sleep. I hate it but I can't quit.

I'm not bitching so much as I'm just informing. I have no one to blame but myself for everything that happened. In reality, I can't complain. One day I woke up and basically stopped drinking and smoking and being a worthless loser, because of one thing. My little boy, When he was about seven months along something clicked. He probably saved my life. I don't know where I'd be without him.

No I don't like my job. I'm overqualified for it, but it doesn't matter. It's my fault that I never took my lab certification test. and it's my fault that I tarnished my image enough so that I couldn't get a call back for a job interview. hopefully, This explains my arrogant attitude a little. I've gone from having anything and everything I could want to having to choose between a new pair of shoes for work or baby toys, I've chosen baby toys every time.

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