Work Is Called Work Because It Is Hard

Hello There You,

So as I continued my working day as normal on Thursday of last week, all in the knowledge that my dear Mr. Warehouse was out at work in his new role within a brewery, I revelled in the possibility that we could soon be living a life better than we were with more holidays, a car for me and less money worries than we needed. However as I finished off the final bit of security clearance I had been working on the phone rang. I answered to a voice that was tearful and trembling. It was my boyfriend. I knew what had happened even before I asked and yet I still allowed myself to ask what was wrong. 

"I quit my job" a tear-cracking voice croaked from the other end of the line. As I went to offer word of support I questioned what I would even say. Anger, disappointment and upset pulsating through my body I needed to put all them emotions and more aside for Mr. Warehouse needed my support right now and not my criticism. I tried to offer some empathetic words of advice and wisdom in a moment of utter despair. I knew nothing would go in as I had been in that position myself, many a time before. But what worried me the most is that I always found a way to bounce back from a bad situation and turn it into an advantage by looking and successfully gaining employment very quickly. I just hoped that it would rub off onto my other half and that I wouldn't have to look into alternative living arrangements for him also. 

Not that of course I would ever have wanted to but reluctantly, I gave Mr. Warehouse the ultimatum that he had before I fly out to Ireland to look after my Aunt and Uncles Country Farmhouse on Friday morning, he had to find a job and ideally be already working by the Thursday evening. As harsh as it sounds - He had a week. I mean I would have given him two if it was not for me going away but his reckless and quite frankly rather selfish decision was an added and unnecessary stress on our relationship, not to mention the impact it has had on our wallets. I still stand by my "Ultimatum" that it was not a harsh one, for I cannot, and will not, struggle for someone who does not consider others situations and circumstances before themselves. Desperate, I tried to hear my beloved boyfriend's points of the job being strenuous, straining on muscles and stifling in the heat of a stuffy warehouse with little or no wind to clear the stale air, but a little part of me knew that this was simply a shock to the system. Rightly or wrongly, probably more so the latter, in recent years Mr. Warehouse was seldom breaking into a sweat on where he used to work with me and my colleagues. The fact that he was now loading and unloading pallets full with crates of beer, ales and other bottles of alcohol was hard and laborious in comparison to his previous roles. In a way I felt sorry for him, but in others I wished he would have stuck it out in a bid to see if it gets better and what the alternative shift may hold. But alas my intrinsic advice falls onto deaf ears again.

For the rest of the day I seemed to mope. Not by choice or conscience doing, just simply bumbling through the rest of the day wondering how it would be possible to support our little household on the extremely modest wage I was earning. Bills, Rent and the likes were nearly nine-hundred-pounds, and with Mr. Warehouse's outgoings and bills on top it made my entire wage packet disappear before you could even say 'Jobseekers Allowance'. Not only would I loose absolutely every last piece of my already mediocre social life, I would also miss out on vital driving lessons and learning potential therefore knocking my test back even further than needed. I wouldn't be able to visit Miss Tweedle-Dumb in her new job and life in the Berkshire countryside west of London. I'd have to stop all my plans for holidays to European Christmas Markets and spontaneous weekends away. All in all I would be sacrificing my evenings, potentially working two jobs, just to support myself and Mr. Warehouse as well as the dog who also needs feeding. 

After talking with Mr. Warehouse his options and explaining to him that whilst I will always try my up most to support him in every which way he needed me and wanted me to, both financially and emotionally I would try and put my feelings of anger and hurt aside to cater for him and his needs first. Although this is of course very hard when you feel wronged in a way that you have offered an olive branch in good faith it should never have to be taken and then it is taken as an easy option out of a mildly bad situation. I would have hoped, knowing how much he disliked the job from the outset, that Mr. Warehouse would have at least tried to stick it out for a little longer, continuing in the job search whilst spending his afternoons humping and lumping Amstel crates around. 

Nevertheless I cannot complain too much for after a productive Friday afternoon calling round employment agencies, emailing CV's and a few cheeky hours on the Xbox whilst I was still at work, Mr. Warehouse has found himself a job. Although whilst this is temporary, with the potential of it and other jobs coming up more permanent and with better pay the future is looking optimistic in comparison to last week, but until I feel my shoulders relax again as a result of the added income, I will continue to feel the financial burden of keeping us all from drowning. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx