This post is the first in a new series called “Frustrations,” an unplugged retelling of some of the difficult circumstances I’ve endured in the past year or so.
There’s a decent share of posts on this blog where I vaguely allude to a current life situation and then proceed to support some larger-than-life hypothesis about what it means for my future or why I’ve been burdened with it.
Starting with this post, I’m changing that style in favor of explicit explications of my life story. After all, I pride myself on keeping no secrets, so why not?
Furthermore, I’ve built up a small share of anger over the past several months. Anger at myself, anger at my circumstances, anger towards the actions of others. Some of it began as frustration and transitioned to that dark red emotion. It’s out of character for me, though – an individual whose pacific demeanor has been a personal staple for years – and therefore noteworthy in my book.
The world tries you. It tries you and tests your ability to respond to difficult situations. Sometimes the test itself produces the anger and the frustration; other times, your reaction to the test is what stirs you up.
I’m certainly stirred, not shaken.
I can trace it all back to a fateful day in the fall of 2015 – of course, a day that I perceived as anything but fateful for all this time. My then-girlfriend I opted to spend the day at a job fair where I innocuously accepted a proposal to interview for a social media coordinator position at a marketing company called Inktel.
Two weeks later, I interviewed for the position and accepted the offer to start two weeks after that, pridefully leaving behind my comparatively lame job cleaning bathrooms at the Pinecrest Community Center.
I showed up to the Inktel office in my Monday best, only to be told that the position had been cancelled and that another, lower-paid position at a call center had been secured for me given the unfortunate circumstances.
I kept my cool at that point, channeling the aforementioned inner peace that’s been a staple of my personality for years. Unbeknownst to me, that would be the last day the peace would reign.
I scrambled to find another job, which I did indeed find within the week. I accepted a position at a used restaurant equipment retailer near Hialeah, FL. Specifically, it was located in what I like to call “The Rust Quarter” – a few square miles of literally rust steel lining a hodgepodge of crater-ridden streets and sidewalks.
As the months wore on, I found myself sandwiched between impossibly dirty secondhand freezers and ovens and my increasingly complicated and discouraging relationship with my now ex-girlfriend.
It was the beginning of a very shitty period of my life, and it was going to get worse before it got better.
The story will continue next week. Stay tuned!