Once we fell in love, however, our store's uber-emotional mecha-crying manager was beset with a few undisclosed sexual harassment charges and she in turn decided to make US, my wife and I, pay for her own strange romantic obsessions by focusing all of the attention that was on HER on Natasha and I. That was hell! Pure hell! They rode our ass like Ron Jeremy, for shit's sake! The constant managers breathing over our backs made things really rough at times but somehow we managed to stay in love, stay together and on Cinco de Mayo 2005 ...
... but my wife couldn't stand being in that store anymore with those angry accusatory glares from the management. And she HATED our constantly crying store manager. So with only a few months left in her pregnancy she made the heartbreaking decision to transfer to the downtown Doubleday. That hurt me so much, knowing that my wife was seven or eight or even nine months pregnant and yet she was about 45 minutes to an hour away from me. I was on pins and hypodermic needles pretty much all the time. It was bad.
What's even worse, the salt on the wound of Natasha's transfer, was that as soon as my wife left there was A) a new and vibrant and upbeat and altogether awesome store manager, and B) the transfer to another store of the ONE manager who made our love life a living f-ing hell. Suddenly work was great. But Natasha couldn't transfer back and, once the baby was born, she decided to quit the job altogether and stay at home with the baby, cooking up a day care job to make the money we needed for this two daughter/two income lifestyle of ours to work.
But the day care thing fell through. Twice. And we've been living (and starving) on my small paycheck for something like ten months now. What's worse is that without my wife there with me at work I've become quiet and hot tempered and stressed out and at times angry and at times very introverted. Work is manic-depressive for me now and I can't help it. It's a bell curve of happiness and the deepest pits of depression. Happiness usually comes in the form of my amazing storytimes and my Harry Potter club and my occasional few and far between talks with Julia and Marisa. My sadness, well, it's sad. I can be happy in one minute and in the next minute I'm beating my fist repeatedly into a wall until my knuckles start bleeding. I feel like I'm working my ass off and that hardly anyone gives a rat's ass. I feel at times that one cares, no one helps, and anyone that could help is stolen away to ring at a register which is apparently a million times more important than my lousy ass job.
After over a year of being alone, my wife is finally coming back to work at the stacks where we first met and fell in love almost four years ago. Oh my f-ing lord, it gets me all asthma-ed up just thinking about it!
I think it's been so long for me working in this cloud of fog that i've totally forgotten how to be happy at work. I hope I remember how to smile.
You have NO IDEA how happy I am about that!