#thatsecurityguardlife

Wish me luck, my friends.

I work as a security guard. This has become somewhat problematic, as I'm not getting the support I need to do my job. No computer, no staff, no communication... it's a bit shit right now.

The site I'm currently assigned to is absolutely gorgeous. It's a farm, in the actual countryside, the work going on here is amazing and is going to change the world for so many people, it's exciting as hell for a health/science nerd like me.

Then another three days of 8 hour shifts, and that shit is all overtime because I cracked 40 hrs a minute ago.

Money is nice but I'm so, so tired. I'm over 50, I need my sleep dammit! Oh, this doesn't include the hours I spent trying to arrange shift coverage and by Mars and St. Michael I WILL get paid for that time because lack of sleep makes me petty and vindictive.

Gah, all I want right now is to be someplace dark and cool, with soft pillows and a comfy mattress and someone snuggling me and petting me until my brain shuts down so I can sleep.

So. After fixing a Major Situation at work, which resulted in a firing and a reassignment, I thought the site was fully staffed and stable. Silly me, it never works that way!

One of my senior officers just turned in his notice. Thank the goddesses and gods of security guards, it's more than two weeks, but hoooooooly liver flukes, is this annoying.

Right now, all I really, truly wish I could do, would be to get a new pair of knees and join the Mandalorians, maybe pick up a hot Jedi or two or three, I dunno, the stress needs some working out.

This is how I cope with shitty news and worse supervisors.

It's okay to feel guilty about that, right? There's only so much I can do but I feel like I need to be doing more. Doing BETTER. Somehow.

This is just me murbling and burbling on my page to try and keep myself upright. I've got seven more hours in my shift, and unholy hamburger helper, but I'm enduring an arthritis flare that has me contemplating day drinking as an Olympic sport, or seeing if one of the veterinarians on site would be willing to spot me some drugs. I don't care what kind, just as long as the hurting. fucking. stops.

Basically, everything from the hips on down is radiating like angry sand, hot and grating and miserable, and walking is a fucking chore, damn. Which is extra suck, because I get to do foot patrol, so in addition to the weather being hot and sticky it's also filled with pain and irritation. To be fair, my rheumatologist encourages me to exercise through my flares, so yay. Let's hear it for daily work being therapeutic, right?

Now all I have to do is remember to fucking breathe, because when I'm really hurting I hold my breath - I blame my childhood abuse for that. If I wasn't making noise, eventually they'd stop hitting me/looking for me, so being dead still and quiet was the way to keep myself safe.

One of my officers fucked up so goddamn badly that they're barred from site and are staring down major disciplinary action, and the worst part? I can't share details with you because of opsec, but it was stupid and funny and holy hand grenade of Antioch how did they think it was a good idea to do ANY of what they did, jibbers crabst!

GodDAMN but I gotta find a way to work the incident into a short story because this is totally primo idiotic stuff. Like, dropped a stormtrooper on it's head and let it continue to do addled goofiness level of idiot stuff, after telling Darth Vader to suck his nuts.

It's That. Bad.

Seriously.

My afternoon was spent doing damage control and trying to get coverage for the shifts that were vacated, in addition to getting info about the incident so I could write up a disciplinary report to send up the chain. Plus meetings with the site manager/client and the persons most affected by teh stoopid.