Work has really been running me into the ground lately. I never wanted to worry or stress about work. Work was supposed to be what I did at home; the job was supposed to be something I did for a few hours in the morning to make some pocket money and get out of the house. I was quite happy with 20 hours/week. This week I have 40, which include showing up at 4:00 AM, two hours earlier than my scheduled availability. The only reason I agree to do it is because our manager is really nice and deserves all the cooperation she can get.
The odd thing is that we're supposed to be extremely short on hours this month, mostly because the reserve was burned weeks ago bringing me and several of my fellow morning-shifters in for extra duty in an attempt to make the store presentable. Whenever we hear of a payroll crunch on the horizon, the morning crew and I are worked even harder. I assume we should be flattered to be considered some of the most reliable employees in the store, but I really have things I need to do at home. We're two months into stocking season, and I'm already hopelessly behind. I never feel like going to Krav Maga in the evenings ($160/month), I don't have time to cook properly, and I generally spend my afternoons nursing a headache. Never mind that the store itself has basically become an understaffed, overworked, inefficient, unorganized Pit of Despair, with the district manager breathing down our collective neck.
Suddenly I'm very conflicted about Obamacare. I still oppose it on principle, but I can't deny that I'm REALLY looking forward to that 28-hour cap on my schedule.