I go outside to wait for my ride home when a particular co-worker is taking her afternoon break. If the weather is decent, she likes to take a walk or lay on a blanket on the Capitol grounds. Yesterday, as she passed by me, she said casually, "I sure wish I had your hours."
I work thirty hours a week. I am in the office from 8:30 - 2:30 five days a week. Sounds nice, doesn't it? I get in later and I leave earlier. So great for me. I'm so lucky.
There are so many responses I could have made:
I wish I had your salary.
I wish I had your health.
I wish I had your ability to drive.
I wish I had your level of independence.
I wish you understood the medical reasons why I only work thirty hours per week.
I wish people weren't so damn competitive about everything.
I wish you knew that you have nothing to be envious of. My six hour work day is sometimes as long as a nine hour day when you factor in my transportation situation. I am often in the van before 7 am, and sometimes don't get home until 4 pm. That's something to really be jealous of.
But I didn't say anything. I let her words float around me, and then I shook my head after she walked by. I stood on the sidewalk, trying to keep my balance, wondering when my ride would arrive and how much longer I was going to have to wait. A beautiful monarch flew by, momentarily distracting me from my aches, fatigue, and frustration. When it disappeared from sight, I looked at my phone again and tried to quell my impatience.
librarianintx
No comments:
Post a Comment