The problem is that this friend has an issue with her current employment situation.
No, it's not a problem with her colleagues. She loves them. And it's not a problem with her work environment. It's one she knows well.
She has no beef with the schedule or the workload or the requirements.
Her problem is that she's supposed to be supporting a program she believes is flawed. And supporting the program is her job.
She can't quit. Because she lives in a land where jobs in her field are coveted. One quit and she might be pouring lattes for the rest of her life.
So she's not happy.
Or at least she wasn't happy. She wasn't happy when the program started and she realized she was stuck. And she wasn't happy when she finally admitted that she'd have to just kind of fake it. Because she's never had to fake it.
But here's the rub...
Ever since my little buddy got miserable, she's been really happy. It seems that with one major H-A-T-E in her life, all else is good.
Is it because when you hate something so much everything seems good in comparison? Is it because when you hate something so much you have no more energy for other objects of hate?
We're not sure. All we know is that she's happier in her other pursuits now that she's so miserable at work.
Now, I should warn you that this essay is about to get really annoying.
No...not because it's dull. And not because it's stupid. And not because there's no discussion of sex coming up.
No...this essay's about to get really annoying because I can't name names.
My one rule of journalism - despite my complete lack of journalistic experience, credentials or integrity - is no finger-pointing.
Well, maybe it's not a hard and fast rule. I do finger-point from time to time. But I only point the finger at folks I know will be okay getting the finger.
In this topic, though, identifying objects of hatred could be incriminating. Not to mention the value to the opposing counsel in certain pending court cases.
Anyway, without naming names, I'll just say that I know a really great guy who hates his wife. Luckily, she's almost his ex-wife. And I know a really great wife who hates her boss. And a really great boss who hates his neighbor. And so on...
And here's the thing: the really great guy and the really great wife and the really great boss...they're all otherwise happy.
Damn!
Over the years, I've eliminated most sources of hate from my life. I've become pretty peaceful. And on some days, when in humor, I refer to it as pretty &^%$# peaceful.
But I've noticed that in my general state of peace, I sometimes get upset over inconsequential details that hold little to no significance.
Yesterday I wasted forty five minutes obsessing about the fact that CVS now locks up their teeth whiteners in a case.
I just couldn't stand the fact that our teenagers can buy everything and anything dangerous right off of the shelf and yet teeth whiteners are considered hot property.
Teenagers can buy condoms! And lubricant! And diet pills! No problem!!!
But teeth whiteners?
"I'm sorry, do you have some identification? And recommendations? And can you provide us with a security deposit? Because we'd really like to make sure these teeth whiteners don't fall into the wrong hands."
Now, I'm not stupid.
I understand it's because teeth whiteners are very popular now. And I understand that they're probably high on the theft list.
Yup. Teeth whiteners are right up there with the Toyota Camry.
But please...if we're going to lock up teeth whiteners, can't we also lock up diet pills and laxatives and razors so that teenage girls have a more difficult time killing themselves through eating disorders and cutting? Can't we at least pretend to care?
It was forty five minutes, folks.
And the only reason it got cut short is because I noticed in the grocery store that you can only purchase the most expensive can opener. Giant grocery store doesn't even bother to carry your garden variety can opener. No, if you're experiencing a can opener emergency, you have no choice but to purchase the high end full service opener for $29.99.
That, plus a can of Spaghetti-O's on sale and you're out $31.47 including tax.
So today I looked for something to hate.
Because I can't go on getting upset everytime the channel won't change on the remote. The only way the channel will change is if you hit "Enter" after punching in the numbers of the desired channel.
What's that about???
Is the remote making sure you really want that channel? Because maybe you weren't positive you wanted that channel when you made the effort to get the remote off of the floor and punch in the numbers.
Okay, don't get me started. Just get me an object of hate. Because I can't find one.
I like my friends. I like my family. I like my job.
I like my car. I like my clothes. I even like my big fat ass that shakes like jello when I run.
I love my apartment. And I bow to my Boo.
I'm screwed.
But I've got a really great can opener, a large can of Spaghetti-O's, some really expensive teeth whitener and a broken remote (I threw it against the wall) to trade in for your object of hate.