Tired of the fight

I'm recuperating from yesterday. My feet ache, though only a bit, and I'm just slightly hungover with that heavy, depressive feeling I get each time I work an 8 hour shift at Acme. It's that disconnect of nonstop frenetic work, while in earshot of the easy banter of coworkers who can count pills and giggle about boyfriends and schmooze with customers. It just weighs on my soul. Entering nearly 400 scripts and basically not one word from anyone, unless you count chastising the still inept intern.

I guess that's where the spoiled pops up again. I never held a job before where I truly had to WORK. In all my other jobs, albeit in my twenties (the last time I worked on a daily basis with people), whether as a cashier, or a teacher, or a camp counselor, I made connections with my fellow workers. You know... friends. Those days, when a conversation had a beginning, a middle and often a punch line, when a sentence meandered along with a noun, a verb, yes, even a predicate adjective, within some context of structure and form, and aah, just the memory of it...coherency.

"When did your mother die?"... ringing phone, second ring, third ring, "Hello, I'm sorry can you speak up...sure, date of birth... yes it's ready, yes it's the brand...and what did she die...No, Claritin doesn't make you tired... how did she die... sorry? yes flu shots are being given now..."

At times I tell myself I'm still in the early stages of the learning curve - though I'm about to be kicked out as a seasoned pharmacist- and I still need to focus, on every little thing. Maybe it will get easier with time. Or is it the way my neurons are wired. I just can't seem to multi-task like the others. My brain doesn't work that way. When the quantity is for 90 pills and I subtract from a full bottle of 100, I always have that moment of confusion. Wait... what are those ten doing in the pill counter and why are there four left behind. This would all be fine and well if the powers that be hired a few extra hands so that I might pause and think and breathe deeply instead of spinning like a tightly wound top from phone to computer to filling.

I know, I'm still fighting the system, I need to get with the Stockholm Syndrome and side with my captors.