Two weeks of hell

I am now at the end of week number two working at the Factory (note the capital “F”, as in “you get an F”).  I cannot say that this is the most miserable that I have been in a given job.  I have been paid less to work other crappy jobs.  The people are kind and helpful and my direct supervisor has been quite cool (knock on wood, hope for the best…but based on my current experience, expect the worst).  Here is a photo of the view from my work area.

I would include a photo of the view from my former “work station”, but it would tempt me to feel depressed.  Let’s just say that the view was more than dirty brick walls and fluorescent lights.  I really feel the loss of seeing the sky regularly.

 I think the problem is that I just can’t seem to find my groove here.  I hate this place. I really do.  I beg God every day on the way to work to please help me to find another place of employment, but I have this suspicion that he is intentionally keeping me here to teach me humility and to love everyone.  These are two things that I really struggle with.  I am vain and (whether I want to accept this as fact or not) I am an elitist.  To be honest, I am not working with people with whom I am on the same level “intellectually”.  That is not to say that these persons are less intelligent (that may be far from the truth) or that they are ignorant or stupid.  I really  believe these things are quite contrary (at least in some cases) to the actual situation.  But to have a conversation here requires less knowledge about deeper ideas or concepts, and requires more knowledge of NASCAR and classic rock.   This is more "my problem", and less my co-worker's defenciencies.

I am already tired of living my day according to the “bell”.  I feel like I am back in high school.  “RING”, go to break.  “RING”, go back to work.  “RING”, go to lunch, ad nauseum.   I haven’t been on a fixed schedule in over seven years, and now I am expected to suddenly start coming in at six a.m. and jump every time a bell rings.  Frustration. 

 Am I really so screwed up that I need this strong medicine?  I must assume that, screwed up or not, I need it.  And it tastes terrible!

I went to confession last night in order to offload some of this anger and sin.  It felt warm and comforting.  I missed this morning’s divine liturgy due to the fact that I have to be here at six, and explaining to my supervisor that I had to go to church at seven in the morning… well, let’s just say that that wasn’t happening.  I miss my flexible schedule.  I miss it all the more because I am working in the same position for the same company, and have lost so many things that I thought that I had earned.  Frustration, frustration, frustration.     

 I keep thinking of the video created by the monks at the Hermitage of the Holy Cross.  You can see the brothers working in the heat in their cassocks, doing some of the most menial chores. I’m sure that they have their days where they must feel these same frustrations.  It’s not the same thing (I’m certainly not committing my life to this company), but I’m sure that in some ways I can see this job as a “desert”, just like St. Anthony’s desert. 

It is dry and waterless, full of demons and beasts and I am constantly being tempted and succumbing to the temptation to depend on my non-existant resources.  But there are also the lost, the despairing: my fellow sinners.  Sadly, to some of them this desert seems like the only world there is.  I, at least have hope in the sense that I have a plan for my future and that I have the reality of the kingdom of God, in which all reality finds its source.  As long as I am transfixed by the waves of the terrible ocean (this job, my circumstances), I will be unable to notice Christ walking on the waters to save this drowning man.  And sometimes being saved means dealing with the waves and the sea-sickness.  Strike “sometimes, read instead “always”.

 Merciful heavenly father, in whom all things live and move and have their existence, open my eyes to see my own sin and free me from my will that I might not, in my selfish and insufficient ability, work against you.  Rather, subdue my will that I might serve you with out resistance and be healed.