I don't care if you lived in Alaska

 

I have a favorite YouTube channel that I watch when the creator drops a new video every Sunday.  She lives on Svalbaard, an island near the north pole, and they're having a whopping April blizzard right now.  As I'm watching the snow blow and the snow banks build, it brings to mind my own memories of snow storms in Nebraska.  During the last two years that I lived up there, I commuted 40 miles to work in Omaha, one way, so an 80 mile round trip five or six days a week.  For two years.  

I very rarely missed a day of work.  When my car wouldn't start one day, I spent several hundred dollars to rent a car to drive that day, not thinking logically about the fact that I'm paying way more to drive that rental car one day than I would actually be making in wages on that day.  It was a ridiculous thing to do, and no, I wouldn't do it again.  Not only that, but while I was at the gas station filling the tank to return the car at the end of the day, a lady hit me.  No kidding, what a mess.

So, comes winter.

Actual photo from my living room window

I lived just outside of city limits in a housing division called Sunset Addition.  When we got snow storms, we were not on the top of the list to receive a visit from the snow plow.  My huge driveway required a lot of digging out, which was doubled once the snow plow finally did come through, because it would replug the driveway.

And then I had a 40 mile stretch of highway to manipulate after that.

There were a handful of times during those two years that I called in when road conditions just did not warrant an old lady starting off on an icy highway across country.

I dreaded making those calls.  I dreaded them most because the lady that I was technically working with, but not under -- the owners liked us all to think that we were working together, no one person over another, but we know that this isn't really true, is it, come on -- she would give a weary sigh and say, "I lived in Alaska, this is nothing."

Every time, she said that.

And everytime I could feel her angst and irritation, and although I tried feebly, I admit, to explain that yes, the streets may be treated and decent in Omaha, but I had a good 30+ miles to go before I got to Omaha, and I had to be able to get out of the housing division first.

Every time, I would try to explain that to her.

So, I would like to say now what I should have said then:

I don't care if you use to live in Alaska.  That fact has nothing to do with me, or the present situation now.  And the reality now is that you live just a handful of blocks straight down the street from work, just a handful of blocks, literally.

I don't appreciate your audible huff and weary sigh, as though you feel burdened upon and put out, or as though you don't believe me when I tell you I can't get to the main highway because the snow plow has not come through Sunset Addition yet.

I don't care.  I just don't care.

And I don't think you had any right to make an already stressful and physically taxing situation even more stressful with your shitty attitude.  

It made me realize that working in a small private business with only a handful of employees is a disadvantage, because when you have an issue with a fellow employee, there's really no one you can go to for help with the situation.  There's no protocol set in place.  You are at this individual's mercy, and so is your job.

the back porch