Weekend Work Woes

After every Saturday I work I wonder quite how I survived it. Fridays sometimes stir this thought in me, but Saturdays are when I just wonder how much vodka I can drink to help ease the pain and get me to stop replaying situations in my head. Of course, the man won’t let me go crazy with that so instead he gets me some ribs from my favorite place and massages me even though I never do massage him. Which, I feel bad about, but I kinda think that my arms want to abandon me after the weekend if they could.

This Saturday was no different, though worse.

We have this situation where we have to rotate rooms which means more likely that we get behind because we have clients scheduled and if someone shows up late, and we still take them, we always take them if they show up late, then the timing is all off. This happened and I had to ask one of the estheticians to help me with changing over my room, which then another client yelled at me since she walked in and the person who was supposed to be out of my room wasn’t. It was an accident, but she was very upset, so I apologized only to get more bitching out by said client.

At one point, I clamped my mouth, basically said for her to have herself a grand day, turned on my toe to get to work changing over my room because obviously I was behind. It wasn’t my fault, yet it wasn’t going to change the chaos I had to deal with. Another repeat client of mine was asking up at the front why I was running behind so the manager came back to tell her about the situation and that it wasn’t my fault that I was running behind. She then discusses to me when I get in the room how she doesn’t want to be late for her hair appointment and set her behind.

I think about this. I worry about this. I don’t need a client telling me that I need to worry about this. I need to get you in, do what I need to do, and do my own form of damage control because I am left to my own devices on how to catch up. This added much more stress to me when I couldn’t even eat my food during my lunch. Ten minutes left I started pacing because my next client was there, the one client who was in my room who wasn’t mine wasn’t out, so I was left there to wait and pace.

I did six and a half hours of massaging. Luckily this was with varying degrees of pressure, from light, to medium, to a couple of firm, and I still feel the effects of it today. Even though I’ve been putting myself on a strict thing of being lazy and re-cooperating from yesterday. I’m so over-done, nothing quite upsets me or gets me as riled up as disappointing people, or not giving my all, or just the plain fact of being late and having my clients be upset about that. Even if I couldn’t help it, it still hits me. At times I’m satisfied that I’m hidden in a dark room all day, so co-workers can’t badger me about how things are going.

They aren’t going. They aren’t going great, good, or mediocre. I am managing as best as I can the situation, this day, and this moment. Do not try to tease me, because I may just bite you. There are times when I’m in a mood to deal with people giving me crap, and there are times where I am fighting myself not to throw that stuff right back in your face.

I am a pleasant person, giving, loving, caring, and most of all I am a hard worker who will try to, at all times when she is at work, give 100% and more to her clients. To not do that is a disappointment upon myself and I take it hard, harder than anything you could do or say to me.

I know that I need to remind myself that I am human. There are days I will be my strongest, there are days this career will give me a smile I go home with, there are other days where I will drive home like a zombie. My eyes will barely be open, my arms and hands hurt just from gripping the steering wheel and you’ll catch me driving one-handed to give an arm a break and switching back and forth. This career allows me to meet so many different people from so many different walks of life. It’s just some of those people aren’t understanding, and some of those people will yell at you for a mistake you didn’t even make.

You take what they throw at you. You wish you didn’t have to take it, you wish you could fight back, but you bow your head, move on, switch over that room, put a smile on your face, extend your arm, and take the next person back. You massage in silence, hoping they enjoy it, trying to read them, and having this eternal battle not to think about every possible thing going on in your head.

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1 Comment

  1. you have a terrific blog here! would you like to make some invite posts on my blog?


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