Is it possible to miss yourself?
Dudicals, I’m in a funk. Work is kicking my ass, and I don’t want to subject you to it.
Here’s my issue, via Facebook status update:
Wow, nothing like vacation to show you how completely unsustainable, irrational and insane your work life is. Changes: you will be made. I won’t trade my body (my 3 am feet, how quickly you return) for a job without compromise any longer. Lagusta! Listen to your 3 am deepest-self! If everything is perfect but you’re miserable, everything is not perfect!!!
And more, after some good comments from good friends (is my sketchy FB/blog creep creepy?):
Here’s the question I don’t think I want to hear the answer to: is it possible to run a food business, where margins are already ridiculously tight, where you don’t skimp on buying quality ingredients, don’t skimp on your commitment to really putting in the time to make things from scratch that taste good, and don’t charge people so much that no one can afford it except for people so rich you can’t stand to even communicate via email with them? I’ve found a way to make it work, but only by killing myself with work. That works really well, everyone is happy (but me) and I make enough $ to live, but what if I don’t want to kill myself anymore? Change any variable and I’m unhappy and don’t feel ethical, hire someone else to cook and the system breaks down because of labor costs. I wish people ordered enough chocolates so I didn’t have to cook…but I love cooking. But not this much. Sorry for the public venting. I feel sad.
I dunno. I’ve been doing this job since freaking 2002, but lately everything seems so hard. Costs just keep skyrocketing, but my clients can’t afford the service if I keep raising my prices accordingly. It was such a small dream, my dream of making ethical food without compromises for people who would appreciate and understand it. Most of my clients are so rad, and really do appreciate it, but the 5% who are childish and irrational and ugh to the power of douche are just bringing me down so, so low.
On the other hand, I feel nourished by the chocolates business, so that’s something.
Ugh with my oversharey TMI self, I know. I’ve got this beautiful beautiful little handmade appropriately-sized first world life, I know. And a lovely tan for another week or so, I know. And how can I complain, coming off my fun-in-the-sun annual sabbatical? I know. But: what do you do when you know, and it doesn’t help?
Again: meh. I’ll be back to the internet when I have something to say besides “everything sucks.”