This will be the first in a series of Dear Diary entries. It may not be consecutive entries, but there will be more.

1, January 2022

Dear Diary:

Random Musings – Blast from the Past

A new year and a new you. Yeah, right. After 2020, I stopped making resolutions. I stopped trying to look into the future. I stopped planning extravagant vacations to European cities. I stopped believing in people.

From the political climate to the media. To the climate change fanatics. To the misrepresentation of COVID-19 and all its variants. To the ‘missing’ flu, who is making a comeback (wonder where he was these last two years?). To the death of some iconic people. To the government admitting to aliens. I’m feeling the stress of hopelessness due to the changes occurring in our country.

The anxiety running through my body has caused me to not watch any news or Grammy shows. I was a big football fan at one time; I couldn’t bring myself to watch a game. It makes me ill to see the disrespect and the privilege. Commercials? Not a one.

I wasn’t aware black and Asian actors weren’t represented in TV commercials. I hate commercials and avoid them whenever possible.

If we voice our opinions or displeasure in anything, women are called “Karen.”

We are transphobic if we voice our concerns about the demise of female sports. Especially track and swimming, due to transgender men winning all the trophies.

If we point out idiocies, we’re called nasty and not a good neighbor.

I can only remember one other time in my life where I felt hopeless.

The year it began, 2008.

At the age of 52 and during one of the worst recessions our country has experienced (with the exception of today), I lost my lucrative career—a woman in the building industry. I took a risk back in the 80s and started learning the ropes of working in the construction of new homes. The money was good, and I enjoyed my work. In 2008, all the strides I had made working in a man’s world ended.

Downsizing, I sold everything I owned, except for a few beloved antiques. It wasn’t the first time I had to do this, but this time I was older and never thought I’d be doing it yet again.

I lived simply. I moved to a smaller place in a rural area on three-quarters of an acre and started growing my own vegetables. Sometimes a week would go by before I started up my car.

Having a knack for organizing, I read up on organizing tips from experts and planned an organizing business. After joining a professional networking group, I started writing a blog on organization and started writing my first book. Many nonprofits loved me because I was able to give them my time. Paddling on a cancer women’s dragon boat team helped me socialize with others who had gone through the same hell. I didn’t allow hopelessness to overtake my life.

The more I thought about my future, the more satisfied I was with my life goals. So I went back to school to get my degree.

According to the government, you could kiss any type of career goodbye without a college degree. I never thought to factor in my age as a detriment too.

But these last two years, between COVID and a new administration, have taken a toll on my hopes and my goals.

People have become nastier and more ruthless. The country, uncompromisingly divided, is not the country where I grew up. Could this hopelessness be a symptom of Communism? It steals your soul until you no longer have a soul.

There are thousands of organizations out there now with a cause. Before Anita Hill, most women in my age group experienced sexual harassment at work. Was it right? No. Did we survive? Yes. And all without wearing pink pussy hats. Have we ever thought about ruining a man’s career over it? No. This is why I was so successful in the building industry. I didn’t let every word or gesture a guy made in my presence a big deal. Did it bother me? Not in the least. I laughed at their inappropriate jokes. Today, these poor guys would lose their jobs and would be banned from the industry.

My worst supervisors were always women. I hated working for women, and it’s one reason I hate Kamala Harris so much. The stories from her past employees, especially the women employees, say she is a total bitch to work for. Trust the source. I knew her in California.

Women bosses love to talk down to other women. Most treat their employees like shit. They walk around the office with a chip on their shoulder, thinking they are better than you. Even Hollywood portrays women bosses as such. Could these writers have had the same experiences I did?

Women bosses are harder to please and tend to be micromanagers.

Case in point: One of my many jobs was working for the State of California. My female boss had a habit of peering over my shoulder to see what I was working on. It bugged me. By this time in my career, my capability in Project Management was at an almost expert level. She made over six figures a year. I wasn’t an IT expert, but I knew my way around putting a team together for a large project.

One day she called me into a conference room to discuss my ‘personal phone calls.’

“You mean the call I was on with my old boss instructing him where he could find a file he was looking for? That personal phone call?”

“Yes. You no longer work for a private company; you work for the people of California. Their tax dollars pay your salary, pay for this building, the utilities, etcetera. So, when you talk on a personal phone call at work, you are wasting the taxpayer’s money.”

I sat there dumbfounded. I thought my boss was joking. She was serious as a heart attack.

My heart was beating fast. I asked myself how I wanted to handle this conversation. Would I fold, or would I stick up for myself with reason?

I choose the latter. “Well, if he calls again, I’ll be sure to relay that message to him, a taxpayer. He’ll appreciate knowing his money is being used in an admirable way by having someone he can ask where a file is. Better than trying to reach the IRS.” I shrugged and chuckled, never breaking eye contact with her. I got no reaction from her.

She handed me a piece of paper. “I need you to sign this.”

A write-up. I laughed harder. This bitch is serious. I refused to sign it, and in the comments section, I explained the personal phone call from my last boss looking for something. It was my first and last warning on personal phone calls.

Needless to say, her tenure didn’t last long. After she couldn’t get much of a reaction from me, she dug her nails into one of Human Resources’ project leads. She may have had power over me, but not this girl. Her boss, Bryan, was much more powerful than my boss. When the girl went to Bryan and told him what my boss was doing to her, he put his foot down.

She didn’t seem to mind the taxpayers buying her out of her contract with a check for $45,000 when they let her go. I often wondered if she correlated the two?

These women were like this because they broke through the glass ceiling. They didn’t want people to perceive them as weak. They overcompensated. Rather than help other women succeed, they tried to keep them down.

Today, though, the employees have all the rights and can make or break a company. Will we ever reach a happy medium? Is it all supposed to be even? This hierarchy has been around since the beginning of time. Will it be what they call ‘the end of the world?’

I have no clue how long I will get to live through this craziness. When I try to look into the future, I see nothing. I see a black hole.

So, I’m writing about it.

Thanks, Diary, for listening to me. You and I are going to be the best of friends this year.

Featured Image by TinOfLynx on Pixabay