Well Mom, I saw this headline earlier this morning and I found it very inspiring for some reason,

Michelle Obama Gives Zero F*cks About What the Saudis Wanted Her To Wear

Gives Zero F*cks – YES…I like it, and so I’ve decided that’s my new mantra; only in terms of my current employer of course, since my problem is that I often care TOO much.

No more am I confining myself to the realms of corporate servitude and call centre monotony. Playing by the rules gets you nowhere apparently, so I’m making up my own, and I give zero f*cks what anyone has to say about it.

What was the straw the broke the camels back? I got my new shift bid, and apparently playing by the rules, being on time and doing a good job are of no value what so ever to my employer. I was warned by a co-worker last year, but I guess I naively thought that doing a good job, being punctual and being good at my job had some sort of value – I was wrong, mea culpa.

They won’t break me though. I know that I am good at what I do, regardless of their arbitrary ranking system, and I know this because customers tell me on a daily basis. Not because I throw money at the problems, but that I actually help them solve the problem. As well, every manager I’ve had has told me this, and my statistics and metrics are always on par. Yet, apparently that’s not good enough.

So, instead of rewarding me for being good at my job, they scheduled me for the one god damn hour of all the other 24/7 they could choose from – Sunday starts. Which means every week I will now have to swap shifts with someone so that I’m not late since the buses on Sunday’s can’t get me there on time.

SO…this is why I find myself earlier this morning, tossing and turning in my own sweat from hot flashes, furious and unable to sleep, with a migraine on its way. My mind is reeling, and my hormones are jumping, and god help me I feel like I could snap right out of my skin.

I guess one can say that pre-menopause and this kind of stress are a volatile mix. Yesterday I almost walked out.

Oh god, I wish sometimes I was a sheep. I wish I could just bah bah bah, hang my head in shame and strive to be motivated to do better like all the other lemmings. Alas, I’m not made of such ordinary stuff.

The call centre world has become the sweatshop of the western world. No longer is customer service deemed an honourable profession, as they treat us with contempt – the pay is lousy, the customers are hostile (and I don’t blame them), the environment is stressful, and the contracted employer gives zero f*cks about either the customers or those that they employ, it’s all about the numbers. Every one of us is a number on some accountants balance sheet, and the bottom line is record profit margins and all the capitalist 1%er BS that is eating alive our western world, and I’m tired of being a part of it.

I feel so alone sometimes Mom. The reality is that I am. I have no one, not really. I have support, yes, but I spend the whole day with virtual strangers, and the only welcoming face I see at the end of the day is Irish at the door when I come home after 12 hours away. Yes 12 hours, because my employers have forced us to work 44 hours a week. At shite pay, its demoralizing. Especially when you can’t sleep through the night and keep waking up every 2 hours in a hot sweat…that is when I can actually sleep at all. Last night was not an exception. It wears you down to the point that I could just snap at any moment.

Well, must get ready to complete the week in the hell hole. My goal is to get out of here ASAP…early spring I’m hoping. Wish me luck.

Always,