My work stress isn’t your work stress but it might be similar

Hi. I work in a penitentiary. People die. Regularly.

are the new readers gone yet?

Working for The Man, I reckon that I don’t usually need or want to implicate myself as a witness to various and sundry. That said, shite happens DAILY that it either gallows humour HILARIOUS or well, fairly rough at the time, then later, if you work in the field, you sit around laughing your arses off because … I dunno. What else can you do to get through life?

That stuff aside, I also have bullshit politics, which are actually pretty much applicable to a lot of other fields–albeit, maybe because of our hierarchy and policy-driven nature, these small things might get blown out of proportion. Such is today’s #metoo and “I’m a pussy, you’re a pussy, wouldn’t you like to be a pussy, too? mentality.

-if you’ve managed this far, you and I can probably hang

Now! I feel the need to backpeddle a tad on the #metoo mention. I’m not saying if something horrendous happened to you, I’m diminishing it. I haven’t heard your story yet to diminish it. I have lived through things that a group I used to work with (support) largely decided that I had invented because “nobody could live through that.” Yeah. Well, I did. I binge eat and drink too much, too. That’s my excuse. Your pain might be greater than mine and if it is, may all the gods, new and old, save you.

Where was I?

I work in a weird place.

Let’s just say I’m not sure how many of you can relate to this from yesterday but a hostage was taken, the taker claimed that he was going to commit “death by cop” … if *I* didn’t come speak with him personally.

Oh, that old saw?

Criminal Mob Wives GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

Yeah. My job might be more stressful than yours. Or not.

On the other hand, I also learned this week that I might have been experiencing precursor symptoms of anxiety attacks that I was too stupid to recognise. I’m like, “Damn, girl. I’ve been having these really weird hot flashes.” I went on to describe and a heavily-medicated coworker looked at me all weird and said that I might need meds. HAR!

Guess what brought THAT on? A coworker. Yeah. Politics. What dafuq? I can handle all of this other shite but when one of our own targets me, apparently, I fall apart. Never mind. I have been moved out of that building. The person is the highest post in that building. I work for a different agency but we have offices all over. This person took over and targeted me right away. I don’t even work “with” her so, it’s odd. On my side of this is that she also transferred out 2 other people (out of an office of 7, counting her, and one of the people QUIT). But we’re the problem, obviously.  That, I think, is pretty much something that can relate to a lot of people, even if you aren’t normally called in due to a hostage situation.

 

Big mama, big baby

I was looking at a coworker’s wife’s near-term maternity photos. She’s due in 3 weeks, carrying twins and whoa.

My Irish granny had 9 children who lived to adulthood and of those, two were twins (a boy & a girl).

I’m looking at these photos thinking, ‘Damn, those babies have dropped. She’s closer than 3 weeks’ when I thought of Granny and took the photos from today to show Spike. He said, ‘Having no doctor in the Ozarks as they were, they didn’t know it was twins.’ She, like the other women in my family, had no antenatal or pre-natal care. A midwife typically birthed and by that, I mean this person was usually without any medical learning and possibly could not read.

In some cases, if money or a doctor could be had for barter in a odd situation, that might happen for the birth, as it was for Spike (his mother was in her mid-40s) and the twins.

They may not have known it was twins but they knew SOMETHING was different! The doctor apparently didn’t bother trying to hear a heartbeat because it was only after baby #1 was born, he declared, ‘there’s another one.’

Spike went on to remind me that they thought HE was twins because Granny was so big. He was born at 11 pounds. They didn’t bother with ounces back in the hills. The Duchess (my mother) was delivered at 12 pounds (again, heck the ounces) on her grandmother’s kitchen table.

Those were some big Mamas!

Balloon

When you’re in law enforcement, you don’t walk past this without treating it as evidence or in my case (my gloves and radio are in a locker, not on my person), calling in to get an on-duty officer.