My work week (at the tattoo shop, not my farm) started on Wednesday and I feel like I’ve hit the ground running since. An hour and a half meeting spurred a big list for me to get done, which normally motivates me and did motivate me on Thursday, but then I felt randomly under the weather on Friday. I couldn’t consider myself “sick,” what could I be sick with? A touch of exhaustion, light-headedness, ditziness, and a perpetual stunned look on my apparently sick looking face?
I tried and tried and felt more and more confused so I went home at 4:30. It was a difficult drive home seeing doubles. I got home, managed to get my Docs off with some struggle, and went to bed, fully clothed.
7 or 8pm my husband woke me up saying he would close the barn and I felt like such an awful person for forgetting!!!
At some other point I think my husband tried to feed me some Mr. Noodles. Dunno if I ate all.
Woke up at 9:30am and dragged my ass out of bed at 10, giving me a half hour to get ready.
And work. It was lots of fun, believe it or not. Tattoo shops are great places to work at. I spent the day with my husband, good mate, a coworker I think is really cool, two exceptionally sweet girls, and a friend of mine. Both of my bros-in-law stopped by to say hi. The fruit market next door gave me a free lime (for my Limey friend). So many people are kind, but then there are some who are make me shutter with their twisted morals. I try not to let bad people get to me, but sometimes it’s just hard to avoid.
At the shop, for example, we see all kinds of people – mostly awesome (yay!). But three tattooers this fucking week alone had issues with people who they had gone above and beyond for become expectant of that behaviour and instead ended up making complaints which I, Mrs. Manager, had to deal with. I don’t think 2/3 of them were even trying to be dicks, they were just being inconsiderate of insane amount of time and effort that tattooers have to put into both their careers and their personal lives. All of the guys are very serious about their livelihood, as I often hear it referred to, and not only is it clear in their work but it shows through with the recognition amongst the tattoo scene/lifestyle, their pages upon pages of loyal customers, their waiting lists, their reviews and interviews, the awards and conventions. What I really, really like about my shop is that they realize you have to build all that from the ground up. You can’t have a good reputation amongst tattooers if you no-show customers, if your work is sloppy, whatever. You aren’t going to be invited to conventions regularly if your follow-through is poor. My husband is a big believer in having local versus global followers, and he spends time with each customer to make sure they’re happy and well-informed of the entire process. But word gets around and his client base is continuing to expand in location as well (the people who travel 3+ hours to see him are amazing!).
Uh. Where was I? Did I mention I’m sort of ill? But not really ill, mostly out of it.
I worked today. I wondered if I should in the morning; now I wish I had forced myself to work harder. My palms feel very overheated right now but the rest of my layed, clothed body is fine.
There are so many exciting things coming up at our tattoo shop. We are going to have a shop race soon. I intend on beating everyone and chirping the fuck out of all who refuse to participate.
Problem, though… actually three because I also have to deal with reality despite my, uh, ditz. At this point I’ve taken the kind of fancy over the counter medication to make me feel better which, probably due o my vague symptoms, has made me more, well, high. I’m also high on four days off and picking up silkie chickens and the fact my piggily-wiggily-piggy is by my side in my office.
Brb. Must find hubbykins deluxe. And phone charger. Probably going on give up on being reasonable/responsible (son is at my parents house due o my illness) and get a second drink. Ooh. Scandalous. I’m 27 now, you kno?
Yeah, so I struggled through my day at work slowly checking things off and spending chunks of time at a time forgetting what was on my action list, I focused on the immediate, the present, the customers in the lobby and on the phone to me sorta’ thing.
By the end I stayed until close to 9 trying to finish up report like thingies and I’m sure — without knowing what — that I forgot something. Ugh.
I know I haven’t talked too much about my piggy Chopsy. He is supposedly a mini-pigi, 2 months old, 5lb, black, unneutered, last of the litter and recovering from mites.
I just love this little piggly wiggly!!
OK I don’t see this post getting much better than this so maybe I can post a more coherent entry tomorrow!