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Progression NOT Perfection

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OMG!

You guys!

I have some exciting news from my world of work.

I was asked by my boss and in all serious if I’d like to do biscuits at least 2 days a week.

I act an say it all that, because That’s only a position that that’s given to reliable employees. Ones that she knows she can trust.

Hence given, the surprise question

SHOCK!!

SURPRISE!!

WOW!!

Progress NOT Perfection x2

When I accepted the position, I jokingly asked if it came with a raise. She didn’t leave me hanging, as far as waiting on a response. You know how you see that little bubble when someone is responded? Or at least you think they’re about to. Then when it disappears your like, WTF? Did I do something wrong? What did I say? Dammit I knew I shouldn’t have asked that last question!!

Nope she answered right away asking me when I received my last one. I told her before our company was bought out. And God knows that been over 6 months ago (so I’ve actually been due one, but ya know how it goes with those fucking corporate hounds). She told me that she’d look into it and get back with me. But her answer to my question was a yes, (btw).

Then when I came to work just yesterday we were sitting out back smoking a cigarette and just talking. She struck up the conversation about my offer from her. I sat quietly and listened to everything she had to say. Our regular biscuit lady is due retirement soon. Honestly she shouldn’t be working right now. She should be at home reaping the rewards of the state paying her disability for all her hard work throughout her life. She recently had heart surgery and was back at work before her 6-8 weeks was up I know. Plus, her stubborn ass only said the doctor said she could come back. She never made it official like bringing in a work release from her doctor. She’s a sneaky ol’ braud. But I love her all the same.

Other employees don’t show our elders the respect they deserve. Say for instance Mrs. Paula (current biscuit maker) working after open heart surgery. She tries to keep up but she doesn’t have any ore give-a-fucks left in her entire body so therefore it’s of no care whether she’s keeping up with how busy we are and the amount of biscuits she really needs to be making. Which I can perfectly understand. She’s been here for, damn I’m sure how many years she’s been here but I know it’s been long enough.

My boss, Mrs. Laura (who is acting GM) busts her ass here like who done it an what for. Like, yeah I could say that about some of the other GM’s I’ve worked with but I seriously see that she doesn’t treat her crew or junior management, like minions. The way that some others have and still do to their crews. Where I was working before (Wendy’s) I busted my ass there a lot more than I have to try to do here. I had the maintenance position.

OMG!!!

Back Buster!!!!

Working there in that position, just even carrying that mf title means your gonna have to push yourself, mentally, to get through an 8 hour shift. It’s exhausting, back breaking, laborious work that isn’t worth the pay whatsoever. I started here making almost $2 more than what they were paying me.

Motivation enough to change jobs for me!

Not to mention I got that motherly vibe from Mrs. Laura during our interview. She almost cried and I know I did, (because I’m a big cry baby). When we came back from smoking a cigarette she pulled me aside to the little table (we use it when mixing gravy) and told me she sees something in me. And that she’s got faith that I can do this. Possibly even more. Who knows? (Definitely something for me to think about). Just sayin. . .

SO. . . I worked 7am this morning until a little after 2pm. I stayed behind taking out the trash and I finished up the dishes. I straight up told Stevie (my relief) that I had no idea what the prep person had done with what they were supposed to do. Obviously, because I was busy cleaning the kitchen, taking the trash out, after breaking down all the boxes that have piled up throughout the morning. Believe me when I say on some days those piles of boxes can be huge!

Especially on truck day!!!!

OMG!!!

On Saturdays I’m swimming in boxes. Hell, everybody is. Man though ‘T’ be beastin’ himself out putting all that shit away. The shit the truck dropped off. All piled in every isle that is normally clear with a little walkway. Shit!

Anyways. . .

I work 7am to 2pm tomorrow as well. I’m not gonna be late. I have disciplined myself mentally already, (or well, good enough anyways) to not be late because I don’t want to let Mrs. Laura down at all. My consciousness only wants to make other people proud of me, so therefore I want to succeed and I do. It internally makes me feel so damn good it’s crazy. Like, goal one, check. Next.

Being asked to do the biscuits only 2 days a week my not seem like anything to you. After working for this company almost 3 years this is my first time ever being asked if I’d be interested in doing them. I was actually feeling like, Mokay! Sure thing there Mrs. Laura.

But I’m doing it and I’m taking it all for what it’s worth. Who knows? This old maid I’m turning into might not be such a bad thing after all. Please continue keeping me and my journey of coming into this responsible old maid lime light role, in your prayers.

Lord knows I need it (your prayer, that is).

Safe-Space is doing great things. We’re moving up in the views and the shares, even the likes you guys!!! I’ve got a few more testimonials lined up in the process and being written out so the actual people can have their words heard. There are even a few people that are gonna be writing a testimonial that wasn’t helped by anyone Who created with Safe-Space. Not because something necessarily went wrong but because maybe they needed prescription medication an needed a real doctor.

Keep Reaching Out!!!

helpishere@safe-space.cloud

TextNow Number: (270)-279-3572 Cell Phone: (270)-201-1441

 

About Post Author

BooBoo

I'd rather read a good book, VS watching the movie made from it on TV. Most thoughts on that are 'why'. Well, my answer for that is that there aren't any limitations to your imagination. Therefore, when I'm reading an action packed thriller that I can't put down or stop turning the pages of is because the details are written by the author describing the scene/situation with such clarity, that I think it's far better than what anyone can visibly see on TV. That being my opinion only, I'm sure millions and billions of avid readers out there agree with me 100% on that reason alone. I've always had an active imagination growing up. I'd use the almost empty cans of shaving cream my dad would give me, as the whipped cream on top of the mud pies I made.Of course dad got the first one. After all, he did give me the topping. I was very versatile also. I was the biggest tom boy of a little girl you'd ever see one day. To dividing Barbie clothes between me and my older sister (when I was lucky enough to get her to play with me). I had to play by her rules though. Perks of being the older sibling I guess. I loved playing with the Hot Wheel's cars in the dirt. Making race tracks and underground tunnels I'd dig out for them. Sometimes my dad would be outside with me showing me all kinds of different things I could pretend to do when playing cars. I have one day in particular that stands out among the rest. It was when I learned to do the underground tunnels for the cars to go through. He showed me by taking a simple stick off the ground and using it like a tool to push the dirt out from one side to the other. It wasn't a tunnel without keeping the top part intact. I acted like there was a cave-in, and then accidents, crashing the cars together. No one ever got hurt in my imagination though, just the cars got hurt. Growing up with a sister 6-years older than me taught me lots of things, both good and bad. If I kept her secrets, she kept mine. And the only reason I even had any secrets was because she allowed me to. I got to sneak and smoke in her bedroom at night after our parents went to bed. I had to be very quiet because I got caught most of the time. But I was always caught by our momma. And then all she made me do was get back in bed. I came from a poor family so anything name brand wasn't known to me for a long time. I was bullied and made fun of all throughout my school years. It doesn't matter which year you pick. From the 1st grade, all the way through high school. I know that's terrible to have to admit, but I think it'd be even worse having to admit to being the bully. I swore to myself I'd never treat anyone the way those kids treated me and made me feel. It bothered me so bad I'd dream about standing up for, and actually fighting over other kids getting bullied. I woke up all of a sudden one morning after punching the lights out of a bully in my dream. When I really punched the headboard and made my knuckles bleed. Come on! When a child is taking on the burden of other bullied kids, you know that's a heavy burden to bear. It was also very hard on me. I never talked about it to my parents though. Yeah, they knew. But back then no one really knew what to do about that problem like they do now. Or, well, think they do. I've been in counseling since starting school. I can't remember a day going by without me seeing the school guidance counselor. Shout out to Mrs. Reeves though, at Lone Oak High School. She made the biggest impression on me as far as wanting to help other kids like me. The bullies were actually the kids who came from well-to-do families. Kids who never knew what it was like to experience the disappointment of being told 'No'. Or that there wasn't enough money to buy what they wanted. Kids that figured there wasn't anything better to do except make fun of the less fortunate to get them through their day or to have a conversation piece. The anger and hatred that built up inside of me was, and still is undescribable. The thoughts they caused me to have. Picturing the tables being turned and the bad things said back to them, bad things being done back to them. It only made me feel better on the inside. I've been asked by numerous doctors in my life if I'm suicidal. I've answered no, being completely honest each time. But never have they asked if I've felt homicidal! I know, scary right? The outcome of such thoughts is what triggered the start of mass school shootings. Coming into adulthood was strange territory for me as well, and actually caused me a lot of uncomfortable times, knowing things I knew I could now do but never felt comfortable ever talking about. Even with my sister, the person I was closest to, I couldn't open up and freely talk about anything of the sexual nature. I guess because bad things have happened to me on more than one occasion when I was still very much an innocent child. With me hiding such horrid things from my parents, along with everyone else, I felt I couldn't talk about the good kind of sex either. Man did that ever set me back, keeping me immature of certain things I should've known already but didn't. Because in my mind I was still that child who was hurt in a bad way. They were called 'Red Touches' back then. What we were taught to call them in school anyways. Then just when I was becoming independent and living on my own, learning to stand up for myself in a way that would make my sister proud of me, I lost her. That caused me to go into a deep depression I didn't come out of for many years afterwards. March 29, 2003 changed my life forever. I lost my 2-year old nephew that night to a raging house fire. My sister passed 17 days later in the burn unit in Vanderbilt, Tennessee. However, if you've read 'My Story', a post on my blog. Then you'll know that in order for me to know what I now know, and to be the person that I now am, all of the bad shit had to happen first or else I wouldn't have caught and held onto the message so vital for me to have acquired in my life. Helping the less fortunate. Being someone's somebody they can depend on being there when they need them the most. After receiving confirmation that my nephew didn't suffer, not for one second in that house fire... Was I able to let that burden go, only to let in that oxygen, that life support I desperately needed to save myself from a lifetime of misery. Even though I know my sister, Jennifer, isn't physically here to cheer and root me on. I know without a shadow of a doubt, her and Lil Jesse (my nephew) are both doing so from Heaven today, and everyday that follows. If you're suffering from addiction of any kind and you want or need someone to talk to I'm a damn good listener! My contact information is listed on my contact page. Please call, reach out for support. You're not alone no matter what negative thoughts are telling you that you are. God is always there for you as well. If you'd like to learn more about Jesus and how He died to save us, don't hesitate to ask. I'll share what I know is all good, and positive about God. Whom I choose to call my higher power. If you don't believe in God, then the subject will not be pushed. EVER! If you're battling mental health issues and feel alone like no one knows what you feel like. Then I'm here to tell you there's billions of people out there that will share with you that they too, feel just like you do. Hit me up on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter. All of my accounts should be connected to my website. If you're waiting on me to respond and it's been a while since you tried getting in touch with me, then by all means be more persistent and bug the shit out of me. Make me see your messages. I will eventually and I'll always reply when I can. This is the best I think I've written in this 'about me' section. It's the most I've opened up publicly I know that. I'm open minded, I keep it 100 all of the time, even if it's something I don't like myself, or for others, I still have to keep it 100 with myself in order for me to keep it that way with everyone else. I hope this told everyone a little bit about me, maybe more than I originally intended. But it's all accurate and up to date with where I'm at in my life right now. Thank you all and God Bless
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