Another Christmas Meltdown

So the holiday has passed.  And I'm still here.  Still breathing.  And I'm recovering from my seemingly annual Christmas emotional/nervous breakdown.

Maybe I should start planning around it.

Cause this year?  Same as last?  Well, it was similar, but not the same.

This year, it was the incredibly rude customers again, yes.  It was not seeing my daughter again, and I'll get to that.  But there were some variations on the theme.

I can hear it now.  "Get over it!"  "Put on your big girl panties!"  "If you can't stand the heat..."   Most of that from people who are cisgender, or who have not transitioned and never will.

Transition is its own Hot corner of Hell.

So yes, it was customers.  The usual rudeness, with some going above and beyond in the "entitled asshole" department.  But there were some wonderful customers as well.  One example of each came from the same transaction.  They were a mother- 70s or 80s; and adult daughter- maybe mid 40s- early 50s.

Quick aside- every store in the chain does a book drive for the holidays, usually for a school, library, or underprivileged children.  Our store supports the Gesu school, and has done so for as long as I've been there.  As much as I HATE the holidays, this is the part I love- getting rich folks to donate books to kids who NEED the help.  I am convinced that if you give a book, you give a kid a chance; and these kids need all the chances they can get.  Growing up poor and (for the most part) African American in 45's reich means the odds are stacked astronomically against them.  Indeed, for many it's a death sentence. (See: Trayvon Martin, Philando Castile, Terence Crutcher etc.)  I work hard at this book drive, and for the Nth straight year, I've not only ready the store, but sold over 1000 books for donation to the children.

Anyway, I asked mother and daughter, who were buying a basket of books, if they wished to donate in inexpensive book to the inner-city school.
Mother:  "I don't see why money should go to those lazy nig... people.  Their parents should get off welfare..."
Daughter:  *grabs a couple of the books I displayed for donation*  "I'll be glad to."
Mother:  "Why waste your money..."
Daughter:  *grabs the rest of the books I had at my register- 14 in total, some not cheap* "These too."
Mother:  *rolls her eyes and sighs loudly*

I thanked the Daughter profusely.  I could hear her mother complaining as they headed for the door and the next customer took their place.


Ok.  So the schedule for Christmas week was posted weeks ago.  I printed a copy from the scheduling program and wrote it on my calendar at home.  According to that schedule, I had to work hard through the 23rd, then I would have the 24th off (for the first time in years) as well as Christmas day.

So, last week of the holiday rush, where customers are rude, frantic, and numerous.  Most of them had many items, which made the cash registers sing and the managers smile.  That also meant that the cashiers had more time to interact with customers- they had no choice.

Now, this is what I had trained them for (and I trained better than 95% of them)- the Holiday rush.  Be efficient.  Don't worry about speed- worry about accuracy.  Get it right the first time.  I can't teach personality though.  That was up to the individual person.  Hopefully, when the managers interviewed/ hired them, they hired people who could hold up their end of a conversation.  Again, that was out of my hands- I work with who I'm given.

Most of the interactions I had with customers were wonderful.  They were delightful, and generally responded to my puns, etc, and were generous in their donations to the school.  Some were terse and rough.  Still others used that extra time to be as mean and nasty as possible for as long as they could.  And it seemed like the assholes congregated at my register.

All week, I worked hard, doing my job to the best of my ability, often shorthanded.  I knew that Saturday the 23rd would be the absolute busiest day of the year.  But, I took comfort in that all I had to do was get through it, and I had the next two days off.  I used that time off as my Hope, my armor to get me through.

Before I went in, I posted the following on facialbook:

"Today I work 1-9. This will be the busiest day of the year. Customers will be nasty, tempers will be short, I fully expect to be misgendered 4-5 times today.

I woke up this morning and thought about Games Day. When I worked for Games Workshop, there was an annual "celebration" of the GW hobby called Games Day. It was held at the Baltimore Convention Center. Over time, it grew to a 2 day event. 

It was GRUELING. The floors were concrete with no padding. If there was AC (this was mid summer) it must've never worked. The worst bit was when you finished day 1, you went to bed knowing that day 2 was still ahead- twice as long, twice as crowded. We weren't paid extra for working the whole weekend- but we DID get the legendary Games Day party after.

That feeling, knowing there was hours of total hell ahead, is exactly how I feel now."

Before work, Dec 23, 2017

I gave my all on Saturday, knowing that the next day I could rest.  I finished my shift late on Saturday.  I was physically and emotionally spent.  My arms and feet ached.

But it was over.  The worst was behind me.  I felt a wonderful sense of relief.

As I knew I wouldn't see my Wife or daughter on Christmas day (they were going to be with MIL,) I made plans to see them on Sunday.  We would exchange gifts, etc.  I would actually be able to see my daughter open gifts for the first time in years.  I also was going to see my "Big sister" Mel for the first time in months for a Christmas drink.  I was getting ready for this meeting when I received a phone call.

It was work.  A manager asked where I was.  I said I was at home, as I had off.  "No you don't.  You were supposed to be here at 11 AM."  This was at 1:15.  I said "But the schedule says I'm off."  "No, you're working today" she said, with no small about of smugness.

I mumbled that I had to get ready.  Actually, I was already made up, dressed... I just needed to do my hair.  I staggered into the living room, stunned.  Linda asked what was wrong.  I told her.  She was as incredulous as I was.  She said what I was thinking- someone must've changed the schedule and not told me.  (Yes, I'd seen that happen in the store before.)

Absolute rage boiled up inside me.  The Promise of this day off is what kept me going all week.  THAT day was going to be MY Christmas, as I'd see my daughter.  The restful peace I felt was replaced by every possible negative emotion.

After shouting, screaming, cursing, raging... I called my "Big Sister" to tell her I wouldn't make our 2 PM meeting.  I ranted and raved, and she tried to be the voice of reason (as always.)  But I was beyond reason.  I called Wife and told her that I wouldn't be able to see her and Daughter.  I ranted and shouted to her as well.  She also tried to be reasonable, but I wasn't hearing of it.

I was going to go in and Quit VERY loudly.  I was going to make sure EVERYONE knew how badly the store had fucked me.  The alternative was to simply not go in at all.

I posted on facialbook again:

I thought I had off today the schedule I printed out showed me as off today.
Apparently someone changed the fucking schedule and I not only have to work, but have to work late. 
I am in tears. I am in a rage. I thought I could relax and recover, but no, someone had to fuck with me.
Today, I'm quitting. Fuck this

I then turned off my phone and threw it as hard as I could at the wall, sat on my bed, and sobbed.  I hadn't cried this hard since Lisa died.  I wanted to simply Die.  Death was preferable to going into work.  I heard Linda speaking to someone on the phone- probably Wife.  I was inconsolable.  My every bit of remaining emotion was being spent on despair and crying.

I don't know how long I sat there crying.  When I simply had no strength to cry anymore, I sat and stared at the floor.  If I had a method, I would've killed myself on the spot.  (That's why I disposed of all methods in the apartment.)  Eventually, I stood, went into the bathroom, and finished doing my hair.  I fixed my makeup only a little.

I looked Horrible.

Broken and defeated, I went to my car, and slowly drove to work.  I arrived, and the parking lot was packed, as expected.  I parked and stared straight ahead, fighting tears.  I then got out of my car, and walked toward the store.

Coming from the store was a mother and grown 20 something son.  They saw me and he called out "Yo dude!  Wait a second!"  The mother rushed over to me and said "You're that one guy who works here, right?  Could you help me with my car?  If I leave it here..."  I didn't glare at her (I was told that may make her "uncomfortable" by management) and told her that my concern began when I passed through the front doors, and that neither I or anyone else inside cared about her car as long as it was legally parked.  She went back to her son who called out "Thanks!"  He may or may not have added "dude" to it- I'm not sure as I was dodging someone's speeding car who wasn't watching for pedestrians.

I'd been misgendered before even getting on the clock.  Yay me.


Needless to say, I was in a Rotten mood.  I did my job the best I could under the circumstances- waiting for the next customer to insult me or whatever.

And soon enough, I was misgendered again.  I reported both misgenderings to management, as I'm supposed to.  Of course, nothing was/could be done.

I was miserable all night.  And, of course, after closing we had to change out all the signs from Holiday to whatever, as well as re-do displays.  I'd done this every year forever, so I knew what needed to be done.  I didn't do it at top speed, but whatever.

We eventually were told we could go home, so I went back to the breakroom.  A well meaning coworker saw that I was miserable and asked what was wrong, so I told her.  I mentioned that because of this, I wouldn't see my daughter for Christmas.

"Those are times that once missed you never get back!" she said.

I told her I was very aware of that, and somehow managed to keep from bawling while standing there.  In fact, I made it to my car before I completely lost control and started sobbing again.  And that's how I drove home- crying my eyes out.  I stopped at Wawa to get a sandwich for me and one for Linda.  As always, I got some looks of horror and/or disgust.

I went home, where Linda and I ate the sandwiches and watched Dark Knight.  Because nothing says Christmas like Batman.  (I didn't want to see anything even remotely connected to the holiday.)

I called Wife, and told her she could come over to get Daughter's presents since she wasn't able to open them here.  She came, and I gave Wife her gifts as well.  I told her I absolutely didn't want to know from Christmas at all.  I just wanted to forget the whole thing.  Wife took the gifts, and drove back to MIL's.  She looked sad.

Linda and I finished the movie, and I trudged to bed.  I lay down, and started crying uncontrollably again.

I cried myself to sleep.  Again.

Tree this year

The next day was Christmas.  Just another day.  Still, Wife managed to get Daughter away from MIL for a little bit and they visited.  Daughter had already opened her gifts that morning, but Wife hadn't, so she opened hers.  She brought me a gift: a book I'd asked for.

I had off the next day.  I triple checked. 

Today (Thursday) I was called on the carpet because of my mood on Sunday.  At this point, I'm not at liberty to say more about that meeting.  However, I expect the worst.  I started crying in this meeting, and was asked if I wanted to go home.  I accepted the offer.  There will be "consequences."  Yeah, I get consequences- people who misgender me?  Not so much.

I thought about this- when was the last job where I had a major meltdown.  I had to go back almost thirty years- to TGI Fridays.  I had already put in my 2 weeks and been removed from the schedule, as I'd found another job.  The one manager I liked called me and asked me to cover a night shift as a favor.  He promised I'd be the first one OTLEd (allowed to leave when business slowed) as I'd already worked nine hours at my new job that day.   I took the shift- a table shift.  The manager I liked wasn't the closing manager; he was the "mid."  The closing manager said that any deal the other manager made weren't binding with him, and that I was closing- which meant being there until after 2 AM.  I'd been at work since 8 AM, and would do the same the next day.  I was in my early twenties and FAR angrier then.  That wasn't a pretty result.  Needless to say, I never worked another shift, even though the manager I liked called me several times to pick up more shifts.

I spoke to my therapist today.  We talked about the meltdown.  I told her about my mood, and where my head was.  She asked how I "recovered" from such breakdowns in the past.  I answered her truthfully- I didn't.  I just learned to live at a heightened level of despair, hopelessness, and deeper depression. 

I never "recover."  I don't know how.

And there's that chorus again:  "Get over it!"  "Put on your big girl panties!"  "If you can't stand the heat..." I'll even add "stop faking!"

So.  Here's where my head is at this moment.  I'm not going to bother applying for my PhD, because no one will accept someone as stupid as I am.  After all, if I'm so fucking smart, why am I stuck working as a retail drone?   Besides, to continue the process requires Hope.  And I have NONE.  Any time I DO have hope, it's completely crushed, leaving me worse off than before.

I'm never going to be promoted to management, so why bother with the extra bullshit of being a supervisor/trainer?  After all, no one listens to my recommendations anyway, (hell they didn't even listen when I told them there was a pervert in the women's room!) and I end up doing my job as well as that of the helpless person next to me.  So assuming I still have a job (which I don't assume) I'm going to step down from being head cashier.

If I want to keep working, I need to find a job.  At this point, I've literally tried everything except fast food.  Minimum wage.  Working with high school kids.  Assuming they'll hire a transwoman to make food.  Which I doubt.  See "Hope" above.

I'll probably drop out of all groups and clubs.  No money means no extra-curricular activities.  No conferences.  No talks, protests, or speeches.  No one cares what I think anyway- that's been proven again and again.  Also, to protest implies hope for a better future.  Ibid.

I need to find a new roomie for Linda.  If I can't pay my half of the rent, I'll only be a burden to her. 

After all that is done, I'll be Free.  Maybe I'll jump in my car and drive west or south until it breaks down.  And there, I'm sure the Trumpanzees will solve my problems the way they solve anyone "different."

Or I could just disappear.  That appeals to me as well.  But I probably won't even be able to do that right. 

That's where my head is right now. 

Melted. 

Happy fucking new year.