Warning: This is long, but I have nowhere else to vent:
Well I'm 19 (20 in a few days) and I've had two extremely short lived jobs in the past. The first was at a restaurant as a busser (I cleaned tables, helped waiters handle food and all that). I was able to deal with that job for about 4 months before things began to crumble like they always seem to before long. Soon not only was I being told I wasn't cleaning tables fast enough for the waiters to seat people, I was also being stopped by and watched by some rather unfriendly diners more and more frequently. Then on top of that there seemed to be a new addition to the busser team every week and one in particular seemed to take pleasure in bullying me, though everyone else hated him just as much as I did. Then there was the fact that many nights I wasn't sure when I could go home because we had no designated end of shift time nad people loved to come in for a late night meal right when were closing. And on top of that most of the managers and supervisors would dissappear before I got the chance (or the nerve up) to ask for my tips which accounted for over 80% of my salary. I was soooo nervous and anxious for the 6-8 hour shifts in that busy, chaotic, smoky restaurant that I could barely talk to anyone. I tried to make friendly with the other bussers (all male) but I know they noticed how ackward I was and they soon formed a clique which I simply didn't fit into. I could tell everyone thought I was odd because I was so quiet, but I did my best to focus on the mindless work. That is until it all became too much for me and started finding myself sitting in the bathroom stalls for 5-10 minutes at a time. Some of my co-workers noticed, though they didn't say much except for the other bussers who laughed about it. Meanwhile I was in complete hell. Facial sweats, a body that ached with painful fatigue, being left to clean whole sections of the restaurant alone as waiters and waitresses and diners gave me impatient looks as I struggled to wipe down the tables and booths and carry 20 plates and cups to the kitchen where there was no room to stack them. I broke some glasses of course, but that was never a big deal fortunately. Some nights there were hundreds of people in and around the restaurant and it quickly began to dawn on me that the job I'd chosen under the impression that it would only involve cleaning and staying to myself was anything but that. Pretty soon I began to self-sabotage and just stopped showing up for work. One day I came in and the manager just called me into his office and told me he had to let me go, even though I could tell he really did pity me to a degree. I could always tell that he knew something was wrong. Once he actually asked me what was wrong because I suppose I had a grim expression on my face, but I just told him it was nothing. I had been told to come pick up the last bit of my money and to return the shirts I wore for work when I was fired, but I never returned. Still haven't set foot back in there. I don't even want to imagine what sort of things were said about me when I left. But I know it was something because not only were my co-workers in a gossipy clique but so were my supervisors. I remember once I had to ask if I could go home because there was nothing else left to do (as usual) and all the supervisors were standing in a circle talking and I guess they didn't hear me. So finally one of them says I can leave, but apparently he'd said it three times and I just hadn't heard him. One of the supervisors blatantly laughed at me like I was joke. I dunno if I'll ever forget that condscending look he gave me as I stood there embaressed.
And onto my second job which only lasted about 2 weeks. I was a cashier and photo lab technician at a drug store. It seemed like something I'd be able to handle as there weren't too many customers who came in. I was wrong again. Because the store was so small it ended up feeling like I was running the store half the time and I found myself faced with the most dreadful task of all: dealing with customers. It may have been manageable if it weren't for the fact that I was sooooo nervous about working the cash register that I just couldn't get the hang of it. Add to that the fact that most of the customers who came in were not very friendly at all, especially the annoying man who paid for a popsicle with a $100 bill, which caused me to have to stand there feeling like an idiot as I waited for the manager to come give me change because we couldn't keep anything bigger than $10 bills in the cash register. Then the manager was kind enough to tell me that if there's one thing he doesn't like it's when a customer is kept waiting for change, as if it was my fault! Then of course there were the other customers who came in using coupons which made my handle on using the cash register even more shaky and ended up with my scanning products and overcharging again and again and having to constantly call for assistance as I overheated and my face began to get noticably slick with sweat. I got all kinds of funny looks from customers, some of them very obviously annoyed by my inexperience, which I knew wouldn't change much thanks to my anxiety whether I stayed there for 2 weeks or 2 years. And then there was the chore of running the little photo lab which my co-workers had told me horror stories about. Apparently the photo machine had the tendency to mess up photos which we would get blamed for and would result in a nasty thrashing from rude customers. Sometimes there'd be 5 or more people's photos to develop at once and god-forbid you mix them up or do anything wrong because when the customer came to pick them up you would never hear the end of it. Put that on top of struggling to ring up a line of 6 or 7 customers who are all standing there staring at you impatiently while there are 3 other registers open but no one to run them. And I'd break into a cold sweat while people and their kids stared at me like I was a complete freak. And I felt like a complete freak too. I soon became so sick with anxiety just thinking about going to that job that I could barely eat and it all culminated in me attempting suicide on the first day I was to actually run the registers all alone for an entire shift. The very thought of having all that pressure on my shoulders had just caused me to fall apart, and I didn't want to quit the job. But after I left the hospital I had to, though my mother still suggests I go back to work there, which lets me know she just doesn't understand the extent of what I go through.
Now I haven't worked in over a year. I've tried things out but nothing has worked so far. For now I'm working some people who help people with disabilities find jobs, though after months of their "services" nothing has really happened. I've just become more and more of a hermit. It's been months since I've really done anything worth mentioning and my family is fed up with me. I still live with my parents but my dad is probably going to throw me out by the new year because I can't work. They've tried to help and they have to an extent, but I still don't think they understand how bad off I am. To make matters worse, I now have over $700 in car insurance I have to pay before I can drive any where, I have to pay for hospital expenses (even though I was taken there against my will) I have to start paying my parents for living expenses, I have to pay for school, and I owe the county I live in some money for what I'm not even sure. Probably the ride I forced to endure in the backseat of a police car on the morning of my suicide attempt as I was escorted to the hospital. If that's what it is the price has escalated to over a $100, and I can't pay a dime.
So now I'm desperate and hoping that the people I'm working with to help me find a job will come through. I just saw them thursday for a little meeting, but that really only consisted of them staring at me ackwardly as I tried to answer the questions they directed at me like I was a 10 year old. Obviously even they don't get it. And I'm fast running out of time. If I have nowhere to live in a couple of months I've decided I have no reason to live at all. I don't need to be anyone else's burden. My dad makes it clear that if I can't work then I have no real hope of making it and I know he's right. But at least he's frank about his feelings towards me rather than whispering about me behind my back as he claims many of my other relatives do. They all know by now that I'm screwed up. So that means no family gatherings for me this holiday season. I couldn't take the stares or prying questions.
