The ideal place in life has apparently alluded me. I've been so hopeful, so trusting, so sure that everything is coming out right, according to a plan, leading me to a place of security and comfort. But maybe we never really come to that place and only delude ourselves when we imagine we have or soon will.
My friends and family keep asking me how my new job is going, and it has been great. It really has, until this week. As a bank teller, your number one job is to balance every night. I have no problem doing that, until this week. I don't even know what's going on. I didn't change anything I was doing; I haven't been sloppy. I keep looking back at my work day, trying to figure out what I'm doing wrong, what I missed, which transaction I might have screwed up on. It just doesn't make any sense because I'm good at my job. I know I am; my supervisors tell me I am. I have complete confidence in my abilities to rock this job all the way.
People who are bad at balancing mess up on change. I'm not bad at balancing; I haven't ever been off by three cents, seven cents, twenty-five cents. Monday and Friday both I was off by one hundred dollars even. How the hell does that happen? Counting hundred dollar bills is not hard. Counting fifties is not hard. If it was any other denomination it wouldn't be exactly a hundred both times. It just doesn't make sense.
So, I have this great new job that I love, that I'm doing really well at; I've already been sent to a training that cost my employer $300. I've already started learning new accounts and feel like I'm picking it up really quickly. But on Monday, I'm going to have to ask my supervisor if I should start looking for a new job.
I just wish that I could tell if I was making some kind of mistake, so I could fix it. I can't figure out what's going on. I don't know how to fix it. I just don't know what to do.
