Why I Should Have Called In Sick Today

This is not going to be elegant or insightful by any means. This is simply going to be me venting about the day. If you’re not in the mood to hear me complain, I suggest you stop reading now.

The last two days at work were fine. I was relatively happy to be there, to see everyone, to realize that I still knew all of the ins and outs the job entails. It was fine, a little lonely, but fine. I was covering for my boss who was out of town for a couple days and I was fully capable of doing his job on my own. The trouble began when he came back this morning. Not only was there not a hint of a “thank you,” there was no recognition of anything I’d done at all.

I know that I’m a needy person, but I don’t think it’s uncalled for to want and expect a little “thanks” or “nice job” or even just excitement to see me after three months of me not working there. I don’t think it’s an unreasonable thing to ask for.

Then, to top it off, he asked me about school and I mentioned how I was toying with the idea of taking a semester off, something I’ll write about in a future blog entry. I guess I don’t talk to many people about it because one, it’s not definite, and two, people tend to have mixed reactions about that kind of thing. I wasn’t necessarily expecting him to say, “great idea!” but I also wasn’t expecting the twenty minute lecture I got about how irresponsible it is and how much I’ll regret it. I was so angry I could cry, and knowing that I was about to, I did the only thing I could do to keep myself from doing so. I shut down.

For the rest of the day, I answered him in quick little responses. I asked a few questions here and there, but mostly tried to keep my distance. “You sure aren’t the bright and cheery Frankie who we last saw,” he said. I could have punched him. Honestly. After barely saying goodbye to me, still with no thank you, I just left and came home feeling bitter and angry and utterly disappointed in him for acting that way, and in myself for caring.

I hate that I want his approval, even now. Even when I think he’s a complete jackass, there’s still a part of me that wants him to respect me. It’s awful. He hasn’t called or sent me a text message, which probably means that he expects me to come in on Monday, which I’m just not going to do. I don’t care how much I need the money. It’s totally not worth it.

In some ways, I think it’s good that it happened. The bright side is that I now remember why I quit in the first place and why I don’t want to go back. I’ve been questioning the decision I made to quit in retrospect, thinking that it wasn’t all bad and at least it was a job, but now I have the reassurance I need to say to myself that it really was pretty bad.

I know that now and I’ll remember it always. Even when he calls on Monday asking me where I am. I think I may finally be at the point where I can tell him why I can’t work there, why I needed to quit in the first place, and why I shouldn’t have come back. “You’re not fair to me,” I’ll say, because that’s the truth. It’s not just that he’s not particularly nice to me, it’s that I’ve let him push me around more than I should have. I’m sick of it and I’m fairly sure that I have every right to be.

All I really wanted was a thank you. Apparently that’s too much to ask.