My Guilty Conscience

Recently, I used Amazon for a purchase.

I stopped using Amazon some years ago because they don’t accept PayPal and, much more serious and atrocious, they’re infamous for treating their warehouse workers like garbage.

Unfortunately, a desire to save some money on a graphics tablet and its unavailability for the same price elsewhere led me to their website. They lost my package, but they refunded the shipping cost, gave me a promotional credit, and resent out the package (I only asked for the last option). Their customer service is wonderful, but that makes my conscience worse.

I do not want to support a company that treats its workers horrendously. At the same time, it doesn’t matter whether I use Amazon or not. They’re big enough, and successful enough, that most people don’t care about those workers, and would I may as well be a speck of dirt in comparison to their customer base. Yet, my conscience still doesn’t let me off the hook.

Yes, I feel guilty about buying from Amazon. I desperately hope the customer service representatives are treated well, or using their services will be on my conscience as well. That said, all workers should be treated well without exception. Despite what I just said above about knowing lack of my business with them means nothing, I doubt I will use Amazon again after I receive the package they lost due to my conscience eating away at me.

I recently read an article where, in response to criticism of how their workers are treated, Amazon responded by saying they pay their workers more than most retailers. The problem has zero to do with money, and that combined with my conscience is more than enough for me to avoid Amazon after they deliver my package. I only wish I could make more of a difference than not giving them my business (which, again, makes no difference at all).

Jealousy

This is probably the pettiest post I’ve ever written for this blog, and if it’s not, I’m scared to search through my archives and find what is.

The gist of it is: My boyfriend makes more money than me and I’m mad.

Yeah, that’s it.

Okay, that’s not really it, but most people wouldn’t read beyond that. If you’ve read this far, I assume you’re willing to, so I’ll explain.

It’s not him personally. It’s that the only reason he makes more than me is he lives in a state with a higher minimum wage than the one I reside in, and we’re both paid only $2 above our states’ respective minimum wages. The cost of living is higher is in his state, but our living situations make that factor irrelevant on both sides.

I suppose that doesn’t make how I feel better. He doesn’t make the minimum wage laws, and I’m certainly not trying to insinuate he shouldn’t make a livable wage (I am very much in favor of raising the minimum wage nationwide; no, I don’t think having to work a low-skills job means someone should be unable to afford food, clothes, and shelter). My frustration is when it comes to our personal situations, the only reason he makes more than I do by chance. He happens to live in a state with a higher minimum wage than me. He works hard – I’ll never deny that – but I work hard as well, and knowing that is what sparks the jealousy to begin with.

Since I am the worst person at hiding my feelings, he knows this and I unintentionally made him feel bad. Of course, he shouldn’t feel bad, but I could’ve said nothing and he still would’ve figured it out (note: he’s very good at sensing something’s wrong with me; where and when he picked that up, I’m also clueless). I confess I also feel bad because when I was the only of us making money, he felt guilty I paid for most of our outings and constantly insisted on paying me back, despite my protests he doesn’t have to (thankfully, he hasn’t tried to pay me back for all of that; paying for our outings wasn’t a loan!). I’m happy he does have a job and he is making money, especially since his self-worth was crumbling before he was, but I’m bitter about the reason he makes more than I do.

I guess in the end, almost everyone has something that gives them an edge, even a tiny one. Now, if I could only find mine.

I Failed

At life.

One of the goals of my school is preparing students to take a certain exam. It’s not a school exam! It’s actually a… government one? I’m unsure how to describe it without giving away the name, but it’s essentially proof someone is certified to work in the field we’re training for and is recognized nationally.

I have recently decided I am not taking it.

I have studied, and I’ve found it does no good. I can be asked a question right after I have finished reading a whole chapter and be unable to recall what the question even pertains to, let alone answer it correctly. There are practice exams for the real one. I tried one. I didn’t know the answer to any of the questions, despite reading enough material that would’ve covered it. I didn’t bother going through the whole practice test. I closed it after question 7.

We do get a certificate from the school. I think I’m going to take that and go, and try to do the best I can with that. I am not academic material. I think I figured that out a long time ago, but I assumed that’s because I hated school to begin with. I genuinely like this school and I do study, and I am still terrible. There is zero chance of me passing the real exam, and since it’s only free the first time around (school provides a voucher), I don’t exactly have unlimited chances to pass. I’d rather not take it at all, and no, I am not going to “wing it” in the hopes the planets will align and grant me a passing score. I like fairytales. I am not dumb enough to believe in them.

Supposedly, you’re not supposed to memorize material you study. That concept makes zero sense to me. Why would you study it if you didn’t want to remember it? The point of studying is to be able to retain enough information to pass whatever tests you need to pass.

That exam is also timed. Ninety minutes to answer ninety questions. Even if I had a chance of passing, the time limit would kill me.

This isn’t Disney. “Positive thinking” and “believe in yourself” does not work. I don’t think even Disney has ever been that shallow. Of course, if those things did work, “hard work” would be non-existent since everyone would be successful with no more than merely thinking of it, meaning no one would have to work for anything. Don’t people complain my generation only wants things handed to them anyway? “Think positive” seems to prove them right.

My vent is over. And so are my chances.

The World We Live In

I started school today. The day itself was fine. However, one thing our teachers are required to do is go over “school shooting” safety. That is, what we’d do in the event of a school shooting. Part of this meant the class had to watch two videos about just that. I understand why this is deemed necessary and I do agreed we should be prepared. At the same time, it’s tragic that we have to.

I’ve said before I don’t want kids. The top reason I’m just not interested in parenting. I have no real desire for it. However, if I did want kids, I’d be lying if I said I’d be hesitant to bring those children into existence.

Yes, yes, the world has always been cruel. School shootings aren’t new. Not for the US anyway. But that’s all the more reason I wouldn’t want my hypothetical kids on this planet. To know all it would take is for me being unfortunate enough to be the closest target when a shooter opens fire and my life can be ended in a split second is already too much for me. I can’t even sleep in the dark because of such fears. Many people would call that paranoid… until it actually happened. In fact, although I was very young at the time, I can remember my home being burglarized. No gun was involved, but seeing your mother attacked while being powerless to do anything more than fearfully hold tight your some-months-old sister (who you barely can hold because she’s heavy) isn’t exactly something that gives me the idea the world is a great place to add children to. My mother has told me I called 911 and saved her life. I don’t remember that, but if it is true, I’m glad I could do such a thing at such a small age. But I’m just as depressed I had to, whether I remember it or not.

I don’t want my toddler-aged child to save my life. I completely admit one of the reasons I would homeschool my child(ren) is the thought I could send them off to school one day, unknowingly giving them the last hug and kiss I ever would, is too much for me to stomach. I can’t do it. Obviously, homeschooling wouldn’t protect my child from a burglar, but at least only I’d be guilt-ridden for failing to protect them (and probably commit suicide to join them unless I had other children or my boyfriend/spouse).

I can’t. I’m genuinely happy I lack interest in parenthood because I just can’t have children while knowing that, though it’s unlikely to happen, it could. All the sweet moments of parenthood wouldn’t make up for the loss of my child any more than having another child would replace the lost one. I worry for my own well-being, and that of my loved ones, as it is. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a passing thought every now and then that any day could, unknown to me, be my last day of life. I’ve thought about my boyfriend not hearing from me, assuming I’m ignoring him, and believing for the rest of his life I “ghosted” him with no warning, never finding out I died. I’ve thought about the same happening with my job and my friends. On one occasion, a manager mentioned to me the reason we limit the amount of money in the register throughout the day in case our store gets robbed. Yes, that’s a lovely image to have while working behind the counter and certainly didn’t fuel my already passionate desire to stay as far away from cashiering as possible.

Maybe it is paranoia, but with every new safety precaution that is becoming necessary, it is much easier said than done not to be paranoid. And while it’s no reason we shouldn’t take them, all the safety measures there could ever be could still turn out to be nothing. The high school in Santa Fe, Texas that recently had a school shooting had a safety plan in case it ever happened. It happened, and many people were still wounded or killed.

I can’t do it. I just can’t.