Today’s choices
It is 4:38 a.m. and I’m drinking dark roast coffee, double caffeinated, and thinking. I gave myself permission this week– despite being behind on publisher-related business– to work on my own novel, the fourth volume of the Fashion and Fiends series, Road Trip. I’m about one-quarter through the second draft, which is where the bones of a story usually beefs up and becomes what the reader might recognize as a full-fledged book.
Every day, despite whatever struggles have me in their grasp, I look for beauty in the moment and the world rarely disappoints me. But ever since learning my day job, Stitch Fix, is closing our warehouse and my end date is September 15, the blend of anxiety, stress and hope is taking a toll on my medical and physical health.
The dietician is right. I need more sleep and I need more salt. I had been on the path for some weight loss but the crushing heat and… everything?… has led to a tendency toward snacking again. First with almonds, then an evening cocktail. Sunday night I didn’t have the strength to eat a proper dinner so I had some nuts and some peanut butter pretzels in measured portions, and then a single serve bag of potato chips because I still felt weak and my sodium levels for the day were still garbage. And at that point I finished off the brownies. And last night, I skipped the gym because my joints were screaming and my trainer picked up a cold at work. So, I started with a nice decent, 100-calorie portion of Ritter Sport chocolate stuffed with raspberry rose filling and ate the whole damn bar.
I am pressed for the time to care for myself properly. I lack the financial stability to work less or even to pursue treatments that might help. I’m not “disabled enough” for government support and it’s hard to be in this vague middle zone.
And that doesn’t just apply to people with health issues. It’s hard to be older in our society. It’s hard to be a working parent, and perhaps harder to be a stay-at-home one because so many people either resent you for being able to do that (or don’t think about the sacrifices you make to do it) or look down at you for gaps in your professional resume.
It’s hard to balance your dreams with your job, because despite respect for the enterprising spirit, succeeding in business– especially a small one without capital or experienced backers– is hard. It’s hard to be young. It’s hard to be poor. It’s hard to be uneducated.
That’s one good thing about a mass facility shut down like the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy. We can also talk about how hard it is, how sad we are, and how so much of this whole situation just sucks.
So, I hope today is a good day. Or at least better than yesterday. Because yesterday was so hard I almost cried at my station, table 18 in women’s QC. The humidity in the warehouse was stifling. I couldn’t keep up– in part because my support team did not meet my accommodation’s 100%. There were four people on the support team. One did he best but didn’t normally do that work and it took him half the shift to remember my accommodations. Then, due to his physical conditions, he didn’t always get all the items for me. I know he didn’t see them.
Another person just didn’t do them. This person tends to skip them, yet does them reliably for another person who has asked for the same accommodations as mine for a temporary situation. I worked next to this person the last time she was in this situation, and she managed to do all her work with an hour to spare and now she spends a lot of time in the bathroom and wandering around talking to people. She’s even made comments about my work performance.
Which makes me ask, to no one of course because who wants to be that jerk, if the point of reasonable accommodations is to allow a worker with a disability to perform at the same level as an employee with no such limitations, why are others given the same accommodations as me but yet have time to spend playing on their phone (I have seen so much TikTok), having long conversations not even at their stations, and slipping into the breakroom for extra rest?
I was told I could do what I needed to do as long as I met my numbers. Many of these other people are high performers who are very good at their job. I am also good at my job, but my body just cannot bend and move with expediency. So, I have to spend my “bad days” working as hard as I can and pushing until my joints scream to maintain numbers, because I cannot use my medical leave unless my numbers are firmly at 100% or I will be penalized, a.k.a written up and put on a probation of sorts. I worked so hard yesterday… my numbers hovered at 98% most of the day, so I couldn’t even use my approved medical leave.
That hurt mentally and physically.
When I first received my accommodations, I was placed at table 18 at the back of the line so the support team could leave me all the boxes coming out of the refix department (work that needed to be done over for one reason or another) and then share that work with anyone else who might have similar needs.
That stopped. I was told at first it was because there wasn’t enough work. Then it was because they were afraid I couldn’t finish it all. But I’m really thinking it’s because the other workers complained. And I wouldn’t care– but I’m struggling. And it’d be really nice to be able to go to work without wondering what I will endure and how much it will hurt.
And for the record– I usually do between 105% and 110% when my accommodations are met.
And I only got accommodations after the company switched from a weekly performance average to a daily accounting. I typically meet 100% per week, but usually once a week or so, I can only hit 95%. So after two years and several shift changes, my employer changed how I had to do my job. I used to be able to do it without accommodation.
