Monster Soup

(I’m going to be one-hundred percent transparent in this commentary. Again, my posts here have always been more like journal entries and I never want to shy away from that.)

Cue the wall of text…

So, these past few weeks have been something else. I’ve been needing a steady income, especially one with health benefits. I had seen that the local school district (it’s an Independent School District) was hiring and thought that this was the perfect solution. It was close to where I currently live and it meant I could drive to work. (There’s a backstory here about a car accident I was in that left me terrified to drive. I’ve been slowly working on my driving anxiety lately.) I had originally wanted to apply for the lunchroom, but I was a couple of weeks late for that position. The only other openings they had were for custodians and maintenance. Those applying for maintenance needed a CDL, which, of course, I don’t have, so custodian it was. I had my interview a week later and was hired on the spot. “Cleaning,” I thought. “I can do that.” They warned me there would be a lot of heavy lifting. I have no issue with lifting or moving furniture. No complaints from me there. At one point throughout the day, I learned that the person who was hired before me lasted only a day. She had an issue with all the heavy lifting and quit after the first day. So when I was interviewed, they made a point to mention the heavy lifting. In my mind, “I’m going to kick this job’s ass. It’ll be great!”

I returned to the administration building on Monday and filled out a packet’s worth of paperwork. During this time, I asked how much I’ll be making an hour. “$9.15,” she said, then went on to explain the health benefits. This is it. I’m going to finally have health insurance! After all of my failed attempts at getting Medicaid and relying on family to help with medical bills, I’ll no longer feel like a burden to others.

It was a good dream.

Back in March, something happened. It was gradual, and if past occurrences were any indication, I would be back to normal in no time. I have suffered from Plantar Fasciitis on and off for years. I think it goes back to my time in high school when I was on the Track Team. We were never taught how to run properly, and as I later learned, I’m a heel-striker when I run. And I ran a lot. Then there was the time I severely sprained my ankle… I’ve done a lot of damage to my feet and knees over the years.

Again, back in March, I noticed that my feet, especially my right foot, began to hurt every morning as I took my first steps for the day. Most of the time, this pain would go away, but slowly, the pain persisted. It has gotten to the point where I haven’t been without any kind of foot pain for months. It’s always there. I’ve tried different footwear, stretching, ice packs, massaging, rest, and everything I can. If I overwork myself throughout the day, the following day… I won’t be able to stand for long. Yet for the past month, the pain started to subside. I was able to feel somewhat normal again. And I think that’s why I felt I was ready to get this job.

Back in the administration building and with the novella of paperwork complete, I was told that I needed to have a background check done before I could start. Okay, no problem there. I set up my appointment and went in to have my fingerprints taken. The cost was $49. I had assumed I was going to be reimbursed, but you know what they say about “assuming.” Once I was in the system, I got a call later that day saying I can begin work on Thursday at 8 AM. I was excited and ready to go. It felt like the first day of school for me.

Thursday morning, I’m up and off to work. These are nice, quiet, country roads–roads I have no problem driving on. Traffic is almost non-existent. Confidence is increasing. Confidence is intoxicating. I arrive at the elementary school and press the button to be buzzed in. In the wake of the Uvalde shooting, security has increased even more in schools. (For those who don’t know, I’m currently living in Texas.) I head inside and meet with those who will be showing me around. Everything was going smoothly. I kept mentally checking myself with a reassuring, “I’ve got this.” I’m given a set of keys to every door in the school, and specifically ordered to make sure certain doors remained locked after I’ve used them. I one point during the day, as I was following the head custodian, I forgot to double-check a door to see if it was locked behind us. It wasn’t. My stomach knotted, but it was an honest mistake on my first day. I would take extra care in the future.

Lunch comes around and the staff is treated to a special lunch. Nachos. My lactose intolerance is glaring at me with a stern, “I will end you,” so I skip the collection of cheeses and anything else that looks like it has lactose. Various decorations were scattered among the trays of food, from little paper sombreros to other stereotypical Mexican decors. I get my food and search for a place to sit. There is one empty table off to the side. Perfect. I begin eating and the two other custodians eventually join me. Small talk erupts here and there, and they kept praising me for being there and doing a great job. Up until this point, I was doing great. One thing I did notice… While I sat at the table by myself, more teachers grabbed their food and looked around the room for a place to sit. Not one sat by me. I started to feel less-than. Some ended up standing to eat with me at a table that could sit six. Before lunch, I was going from room to room, meeting with the teachers, and having short conversations, but now, I was being avoided.

As lunch came to an end, I watched as one of the teachers brought in a large trash bag and began to toss in all of the tiny sombreros and decorations, along with nearly full bowls of food. My mind imagined the life of the sombreros, from their beginnings in a factory to a store, then in a shopping bag to the table for 30 minutes, and finally flung into the trash. No attempts to pack them away to be reused. The table clothes, too, no attempt to save them for reuse. The disposal of the food really got to me. There was no attempt to ask if anyone wanted to take things home. I can hear my grandmother sighing in disbelief if she saw this. So much waste.

But now that lunch was over, I go to stand and my right foot is like, “Yo, bitch! Remember me? Bwhahahaha! Four more hours to go! Wheeee!” It feels like a hot, acid-covered nail is being slowly inserted into my heel. Fuck. This can’t be happening. But I continue on, trying my best to hide any limping.

The last thing I need to do for the day is sweeping all of the classrooms and the hallway in my area. Halfway through, my boss calls me into her office and asks how I’m doing. My mind, “Be honest. This isn’t the time to be a people-pleaser. You can’t do this. You’ll regret not speaking up.” I am honest. I am on the verge of tears. I am defeated. What can I do? I can’t stay on my feet like this, walking around for eight hours a day. And there was one part of this day I have avoided telling until now.

Every teacher I meet always, without fail, asked if I had any kids or if I had kids that went to school there. My answer was usually a simple, “No.” Sometimes there was a follow-up question, “Are you planning to have any?” or “You look young, it’s not too late.” Where does the conversation go from there? “Oh, I was hoping to have children one day, but cancer stopped that.” There was one teacher I talked to who recently had a hysterectomy. She, luckily, got to keep her ovaries. Then my mind recalled all of the info I read about radical hysterectomies and how they lead to a shorter life expectancy. I underestimated how triggering this would be. I knew I was going to be around children, and I kept telling others who knew me I would be fine.

Humble pie tastes like shit.

My boss asked if I wanted to go ahead and leave, but I tell her I would finish out the day. When it comes time for me to clock out, I handed her my keys, and she thanked me for the day’s work. She also said she would pray for me, and that I would find a job best suited for me.

All day they were so thankful for me to be there, hyping me up, and when it came time for me to call it quits and leave, I felt like I was letting them down, that I was a terrible person for getting their hopes up and bailing when shit got tough. Thinking back on this now, was all of this praise similar to “love bombing?”

I make my way to the car, left baking in the hot summer sun, and climb in. The entire walk to the car, I kept myself as stoic as possible. But once I was in the oven of a car, the tears started. My glasses fogged up from the combination of coolness from the school, the heat from the car, and the tears soaking my cheeks. I had to calm myself down. I still needed to drive home. I put the car in reverse… okay, I thought it was in reverse. I pressed the gas and almost drive up a grass embankment. Well, that was one way to stop those damn tears.

I looked around. Did anyone see me? I don’t see anyone, so no. I continued on and make my way home, my foot still screaming at me as I use the gas and brake peddles. Once I get home, I collapse on the couch and the mental lashings begin. Over and over, I keep telling myself how much of a failure I am. I can’t do anything. Even when I try—failure, failure, failure. A waste of space, a burden to others. I spent $49 on a background check and made about $65 for the day’s work (before taxes). So, I made a little over $10?

I woke up this morning, not sure if I was going to post any commentary at all. If I didn’t make it known I was getting this job, I could’ve easily kept all of this to myself. But I was happy to finally have a steady job once more, and this time with health benefits.

Blah. I don’t know how to end this post.

TL;DR: Got a job as a custodian for an elementary school, but the pain from an earlier heel injury kept me from staying on.

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