My husband's job is unbelievable. He works at least 55 hours a week and sometimes it's closer to 70 or 80. I read somewhere about how even salaried employees are entitled to overtime pay and I'm seriously thinking about contacting a lawyer to see how that could be tracked if we decided to persue it further. The pay JUST ISN'T ENOUGH for any of the people on the front lines of getting product into the stores for the amount of shit that's expected from them. Turns out some big wig gets a MAJOR bonus for keeping hours down...nevermind how many people are abused in the process. I guess for those getting paid hourly, that bonus he gets doesn't account for overtime hours. I totally get that companies want to save money. I don't get seriously taking advantage of good people and making EVERYONE INCLUDING CUSTOMERS mad in the process. Is it just arrogance? Do they think their product is so highly in demand that they really don't care? It seems so.
Where is God in all this? Why did my husband just happen to get stuck in a company that just sucks the life out of people by refusing to plan and make the busy season bearable? Sure, Steve has done well there, and his direct manager speaks very highly of him, but when will that be recognized by somebody actually listening to his suggestions or at least paying him for the ridiculous stuff he bends over backwards to do for the company.
He won a tv for meeting some sales goal. It's too damn big for where I'd like to put it. I'd rather sell it, but Steve will probably want to keep it. It's stupid. It's like they're thowing a bone to a dog to keep him from running away. And it's not like he hasn't applied anywhere else.
So. I want to talk to a lawyer. I want to find out if it's true that salary employees can get paid for overtime hours worked and what we have to do to keep track of the overtime hours worked to be able to prove it in court. Of course, we can't just sue his employer. They'd find a way to fire him. They easily could just say he's not meeting his duties. It's impossible with what they expect. If he's doing the best he can in 60+ hours most weeks, it's not like he hasn't tried. But in the event some other place does call him for an interview and he does actually get another job, it would be nice to get some compensation for the life stolen from our family.
There is no time aside from the weekend, and he's so worn down by then that Sunday is practically the only day to do anything...and then we have to go to bed early again to get ready for Monday. It's unreasonable. He eats, showers, and goes straight to bed most weeknights. There is no Daddy participation in a bedtime routine. There are no date nights. There are no family movie nights. Lately Saturday gets here, and he's had to work then too. I thought it was bad years ago when he was on a truck. I remember saying the same things. The company totally disregarded the law for truckers work hours. I would not be surprised in the least if they disregard it over pay for salaried people.
I could be happy with his current pay if we had a life, though.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
Hmm...same old same old I guess
Little update: I started working again...black Friday to be exact. Boy, that was a bad day to start. Whatever. Steve got a promotion. Well, they call it a promotion, anyway. So now he's sorta a honcho and has to work till mostly everything is taken care of. I could tolerate that if the pay was a lot better. Supposedly, a big bonus is available sometimes, but we probably won't see that for over a year, if at all. So he wants me to work, but he doesn't want me to work. Yeah, I know his job is more important than mine. It's just annoying to hear over and over, "you can't work weeknights." OK, no weeknights except Friday cuz he can sleep in Saturday. But then even Fridays are stressful because I have to make arrangements in case he's not home in time. I think our oldest would be fine in charge for that hour or two after I've gone, but he doesn't agree I guess. Not Sunday night. I've tried to adjust my availability to the widest possible range so that I can even get scheduled at all. That keeps shrinking and I'm afraid that soon they'll say I'm just too much of a headache.
The truck's rear lights are out, so now I have to wait until he's home so I can take the car. I'm sick of being broke all the time. I'm sick of weighing what's most important because there isn't money for all of what we need. Should I skip a party for Garrett's birthday and just get the truck fixed? Should he have a bluetooth or should we get a rug for the baby to crawl on in the livingroom? Steve was disappointed that I didn't really think to include him in the Monster truck thing I took the boys to. My first thought was that he'd take them, but he said he wasn't into that "redneck scene." Fine. We couldn't have afforded to take everyone anyway, and the noise wouldn't have been good for the baby.
We did the taxes. I'm not even happy about it. Because again, I have to weigh what's most important. I could list a dozen or more sorta expensive things we need. There just isn't enough for them all. I wondered when we bought this house if the slanted floors would ever really get on my nerves. Turns out they don't really. Not the floors, anyway. But what gets on my nerves is that when things break or need to be done, it's up to me to figure something out on the cheap. Rebekah thought it wasn't a big deal, but she pulled off the front formica trim from the countertop the whole length of the side where the sink is. Sigh. Sure I'd like a new counter. Sure, I'd like a lot of things. But because the stupid fiberboard the whole thing was attached to is deteriorating from getting wet, that's become one of the more important things to do soon. A few hundred dollars here and there add up quick. The bottom line is, the tax refund is pretty much consumed and I had hoped that we could put a little dent in the bigger debt to help reduce monthly obligations. Oh well.
We've never starved. We've never not had comfy beds to sleep in. Sure, we couldn't get a new bed when the baby came and I was on a mattress on the floor because the big bed was too bouncy to have him together with Steve and me, but it wasn't so bad. It just seems like everything is a pain in the ass lately.
Someone on facebook recently put up a photo of a couple of african women carrying heavy loads. The caption read, "If hard work makes you rich, these women would be millionaires." It depressed me. I guess because it's just their lot in life to be poor. And they and their children might really face starvation. But there are photographers there to capture it for us rich westerners. We heard a blurb on the radio that the most expensive hot dog is $100. That would buy 100 packs of cheap hotdogs. Including buns, that would buy enough for 250 kids to have one each. THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO PAY $100 FOR A HOT DOG. Sometimes, I can't believe this crazy world we live in.
There's a lady at work who works with the urban poor. In Baltimore, I think. Don't ask me how she works in Baltimore's projects, but also works with me hours away from there, but whatever. She was telling me how one of her girls is expecting twins. I offered her all Winston's clothes. I'm saving his clothes in a pile for whoever I hear of that could really use them. But this lady says the mother probably won't want them because she'd like to dress them alike. Can't afford squat, but still wants to dress them alike. I hope she has some generous friends. I think if I'd had twins, I would have wanted to dress them alike too. But I'd still take free stuff. Shoot, matching colors would do.
So anyway, I'm sick of life being so hard. There's nothing I can do about it, of course. I don't really want to go back in time and undo some of my decisions, but still. There's no light at the end of the tunnel for me right now. When I was pregnant with Ryan and it was hard, it was different. I had hope that it was a season. Steve worked his butt off and it was okay because I was proud of him for wanting to be with his family and making that happen. Now I'm just tired. I've got what I wanted. He didn't leave. He works hard for us. He says he's happy and doesn't want to be anywhere else in the world. Good. I am glad about that.
But I'm tired. Tired of weighing the importance of things. Tired of feeling like a failure at mothering because resources are so limited that I don't feel like I have the tools to do a good job. Tired of being twisted and torn on the inside about things that most people don't think twice about.
I tell myself sometimes still that this is still a season. But soon this season of mothering will be gone and over. Somewhere I saw a saying, "In the end will you say 'I wish I had' or 'I'm glad I did'?" Hmm...I think I'll say both. haha As in, I wish I had stuff...like I wish we could take the kids on vacations. Nothing elaborate: camping, to CO to meet more family and see touristy stuff over there. I wish I had done better with Rebekah's school or kept her in school. I wish I had been able to help her develop her artistic talent more. I wish our home had more music, as in, kids learning to play music(or even me too.) But overall, I think I'll be in the I'm glad I did camp.
Steve was talking about watching a documentary about a scared straight program for at risk teen girls. Almost every one had anger issues that had something to do with their dad. Probably. I could see that. I mean, I used to be convinced my dad wasn't such a bad guy until he let his drinking cause abuse and family chaos. Well, now I'm older(and wiser?) and wonder why my dad still has no concept of reality. He ACTUALLY thinks people will pay $500 a day for a clunker to drive on the beach. People who can afford $500 a day for anything aren't going to want a clunker. Steve says my dad and my brother are men who can do a whole lot of things badly. He's got a point. The time they spend fixing junk could be spent working to get something nice that will last a long time. I guess I'm afraid our own situation will be the same....that we'll have no choice but to continue fixing junk forever.
Maybe those kids are just smarter than I was when I was young. I used to be convinced of a lot of things. I feel very unstable. Not really mentally unstable like I'm going off the deep end or anything. But unstable as in I don't know where my FOUNDATION went. Do I believe God is generally good and kind? Yes. Do I believe He's involved in our day-to-day lives and will give us compassion? Yes. Do I believe He has control over it all? Yes, but how does that jive with Him being good? THAT I don't know. I've had expectations of what He would do that did not get met. I don't know what to do with that. It makes me feel abandoned, like maybe I should have just fought and worked and depended on myself from the start. But then every once in a while, I get another glimpse of His great care for me and I cannot just abandon Him entirely. There doesn't seem to be any light at the end of my tunnel. Except that generally, I think I will be able to say with relative confidence that I gave my marriage and my kids the best that I could with what I had. Is that what's most important in life? I suppose. There's a whisper in the back of my head, "What about me? What about personal development or education or talents that went unused or undiscovered? Give give give and there's nothing of yourself left." I tell that voice to shut up. I hope when I'm old and kids are grown and gone there will still be time for that. And if there isn't, maybe it won't matter then. I tell that voice that I'm doing what matters most to me now. I survive another day. I press on with little to look forward to except that my children will grow up in a stable home and hopefully have the tools to navigate this world with much less trouble than Steve and I have had.
The truck's rear lights are out, so now I have to wait until he's home so I can take the car. I'm sick of being broke all the time. I'm sick of weighing what's most important because there isn't money for all of what we need. Should I skip a party for Garrett's birthday and just get the truck fixed? Should he have a bluetooth or should we get a rug for the baby to crawl on in the livingroom? Steve was disappointed that I didn't really think to include him in the Monster truck thing I took the boys to. My first thought was that he'd take them, but he said he wasn't into that "redneck scene." Fine. We couldn't have afforded to take everyone anyway, and the noise wouldn't have been good for the baby.
We did the taxes. I'm not even happy about it. Because again, I have to weigh what's most important. I could list a dozen or more sorta expensive things we need. There just isn't enough for them all. I wondered when we bought this house if the slanted floors would ever really get on my nerves. Turns out they don't really. Not the floors, anyway. But what gets on my nerves is that when things break or need to be done, it's up to me to figure something out on the cheap. Rebekah thought it wasn't a big deal, but she pulled off the front formica trim from the countertop the whole length of the side where the sink is. Sigh. Sure I'd like a new counter. Sure, I'd like a lot of things. But because the stupid fiberboard the whole thing was attached to is deteriorating from getting wet, that's become one of the more important things to do soon. A few hundred dollars here and there add up quick. The bottom line is, the tax refund is pretty much consumed and I had hoped that we could put a little dent in the bigger debt to help reduce monthly obligations. Oh well.
We've never starved. We've never not had comfy beds to sleep in. Sure, we couldn't get a new bed when the baby came and I was on a mattress on the floor because the big bed was too bouncy to have him together with Steve and me, but it wasn't so bad. It just seems like everything is a pain in the ass lately.
Someone on facebook recently put up a photo of a couple of african women carrying heavy loads. The caption read, "If hard work makes you rich, these women would be millionaires." It depressed me. I guess because it's just their lot in life to be poor. And they and their children might really face starvation. But there are photographers there to capture it for us rich westerners. We heard a blurb on the radio that the most expensive hot dog is $100. That would buy 100 packs of cheap hotdogs. Including buns, that would buy enough for 250 kids to have one each. THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO PAY $100 FOR A HOT DOG. Sometimes, I can't believe this crazy world we live in.
There's a lady at work who works with the urban poor. In Baltimore, I think. Don't ask me how she works in Baltimore's projects, but also works with me hours away from there, but whatever. She was telling me how one of her girls is expecting twins. I offered her all Winston's clothes. I'm saving his clothes in a pile for whoever I hear of that could really use them. But this lady says the mother probably won't want them because she'd like to dress them alike. Can't afford squat, but still wants to dress them alike. I hope she has some generous friends. I think if I'd had twins, I would have wanted to dress them alike too. But I'd still take free stuff. Shoot, matching colors would do.
So anyway, I'm sick of life being so hard. There's nothing I can do about it, of course. I don't really want to go back in time and undo some of my decisions, but still. There's no light at the end of the tunnel for me right now. When I was pregnant with Ryan and it was hard, it was different. I had hope that it was a season. Steve worked his butt off and it was okay because I was proud of him for wanting to be with his family and making that happen. Now I'm just tired. I've got what I wanted. He didn't leave. He works hard for us. He says he's happy and doesn't want to be anywhere else in the world. Good. I am glad about that.
But I'm tired. Tired of weighing the importance of things. Tired of feeling like a failure at mothering because resources are so limited that I don't feel like I have the tools to do a good job. Tired of being twisted and torn on the inside about things that most people don't think twice about.
I tell myself sometimes still that this is still a season. But soon this season of mothering will be gone and over. Somewhere I saw a saying, "In the end will you say 'I wish I had' or 'I'm glad I did'?" Hmm...I think I'll say both. haha As in, I wish I had stuff...like I wish we could take the kids on vacations. Nothing elaborate: camping, to CO to meet more family and see touristy stuff over there. I wish I had done better with Rebekah's school or kept her in school. I wish I had been able to help her develop her artistic talent more. I wish our home had more music, as in, kids learning to play music(or even me too.) But overall, I think I'll be in the I'm glad I did camp.
Steve was talking about watching a documentary about a scared straight program for at risk teen girls. Almost every one had anger issues that had something to do with their dad. Probably. I could see that. I mean, I used to be convinced my dad wasn't such a bad guy until he let his drinking cause abuse and family chaos. Well, now I'm older(and wiser?) and wonder why my dad still has no concept of reality. He ACTUALLY thinks people will pay $500 a day for a clunker to drive on the beach. People who can afford $500 a day for anything aren't going to want a clunker. Steve says my dad and my brother are men who can do a whole lot of things badly. He's got a point. The time they spend fixing junk could be spent working to get something nice that will last a long time. I guess I'm afraid our own situation will be the same....that we'll have no choice but to continue fixing junk forever.
Maybe those kids are just smarter than I was when I was young. I used to be convinced of a lot of things. I feel very unstable. Not really mentally unstable like I'm going off the deep end or anything. But unstable as in I don't know where my FOUNDATION went. Do I believe God is generally good and kind? Yes. Do I believe He's involved in our day-to-day lives and will give us compassion? Yes. Do I believe He has control over it all? Yes, but how does that jive with Him being good? THAT I don't know. I've had expectations of what He would do that did not get met. I don't know what to do with that. It makes me feel abandoned, like maybe I should have just fought and worked and depended on myself from the start. But then every once in a while, I get another glimpse of His great care for me and I cannot just abandon Him entirely. There doesn't seem to be any light at the end of my tunnel. Except that generally, I think I will be able to say with relative confidence that I gave my marriage and my kids the best that I could with what I had. Is that what's most important in life? I suppose. There's a whisper in the back of my head, "What about me? What about personal development or education or talents that went unused or undiscovered? Give give give and there's nothing of yourself left." I tell that voice to shut up. I hope when I'm old and kids are grown and gone there will still be time for that. And if there isn't, maybe it won't matter then. I tell that voice that I'm doing what matters most to me now. I survive another day. I press on with little to look forward to except that my children will grow up in a stable home and hopefully have the tools to navigate this world with much less trouble than Steve and I have had.
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