Up. A downer.

The first 15 minutes of the movie "UP" is the most depressing bit of cinema since Bambi's mom got blown to bits 50-odd years ago.
What. The. Hell.

When I settle down in front of a video with my kids on a rainy Saturday afternoon, the most I can hope for is to hear about 40% of the movie, and spend the other 60% of the time (though it's usually much more) answering questions, fetching water, rewinding because someone missed something, adjusting blankets, wiping noses, and refilling snacks.

But the last - the ABSOLUTE LAST - thing I expect to do is discuss infertility and soulmates dropping dead and leaving their devastated partners to spend the rest of their lives alone, and old men losing their shit and beating people with their cane.

What kind of fucked up children's movie IS THIS? More alcohol please.

So yeah, rainy day, watching movies, sipping chai, fielding phone calls from disgruntled co-workers.

Yes, I am a waitress, and I get phone calls and emails at all hours of the day and night from disgruntled co-workers. I don't get it either. I love my co-workers, and I love my job, and quite frankly, I totally agree with the "Oh my god this is ridiculous" frame of mind they are in.....but I am in absolutely NO position to do anything about it. I am no union organizer. I am not even organized enough to keep my bedroom clean at the tender age of 34. So really, despite a strong desire to help (and possibly the skills to do so) my hands are tied and all I can do is reassure people that no, they are not crazy (at least, when it pertains to workplace drama).

Someday, I will be in the position to make a difference. To enact change. To try to make things better where work is concerned. But right now I am just a spoke in a wheel. A wheel that is missing several spokes, is not connected to an axle, and has a flat tire.