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I dreamt that I returned to work at the pet shop. I wasn't giving up my current gig as a word miner--it was just a back-up job with benefits. (Literally.)
The shop in my dream wasn't the actual shop. It consisted mostly of an outdoor area that was clearly the local zoo, with a brief glimpse at an interior that was just as clearly a Best Buy. As I was taken around in a golf cart on the standard first-day tour, I saw cages that were obviously in need of cleaning, and also noted that there were many more cages than there had been when I previously worked at the shop, with zoo keepers luring still more animals into cages, pens and even corners blocked off with chicken wire. Many of these animals weren't pets, or even real (one was a blue Pixar wombat), so this was clearly a display area, but I had the sense that the display was for my benefit rather than the public.
I approached my old manager at the shop and told her I'd like to start my rounds early. Given how long it has been since I worked there, the greater number of animals to prepare for overnight, and the amount of spot-cleaning I knew would be necessary, I thought I should give myself a little buffer of time to do the job right. Though she agreed, I heard her (in voiceover) as I left expressing doubts about hiring me back.
So I took a deep breath and forced myself to leave it be. I reminded myself that I needed to trust my co-workers to do their jobs, not discount them off the bat as slackers, and not get back in that mode of thinking I had to do all the heavy lifting.
While I was thinking these things, I was flying along at car-level along an asphalt road in Forest Park. No machine, no broomstick, just me. I was headed for a roundabout near an administrative building, apparently to pick up my dropped glasses. As I neared the roundabout, however, I saw a slew of racist road signs and knew I would be hassled. I circled to my glasses, crossing in front of an old fashioned and very shiny black and chrome sedan, like something out of an old horror film. It was menacing all on its own, but as I leaned down to pick up the glasses, the car inched out of its parking spot behind me. It didn't bump or come after me, but it was threatening nonetheless, so I tucked my glasses away and hurried back the way I'd come.
Notes, details and explanations
#1. As jobs go, the word mining is a mixed bag. I love the freedom of working pantsless, I miss the stability of a job that was over when I walked out the door. After a stressful few months of putting out fires for clients who forget I have to sleep too, I was half-heartedly considering the feasibility of a part-time gig for the benefits and steady paycheck. It would never work, but it should tell you how frazzled I've been that I gave even half-serious consideration to going back into retail.
#2. The golf cart tour is straight from my days working at the local zoo. My memories of that job aren't as fond as my memories of the pet shop gig. The blue Pixar wombat is a mystery.
#3. The pet shop gig attracted a lot of slackers who taught newbies 'a better way to do things', and then framed and blamed newbies when their slacking caused problems. My in-dream worry about making sure things were done properly, and my in-dream reminder that I don't have to do it all myself and need to trust others to do their jobs, stems from several years of trying to minimize that damage.
I suspect it also has to do with my sister telling me to put her son to work when he's over at my house, and him asking for jobs to do to earn cash. Though I've eased into it with some tasks I hate, backing off and trusting that he's doing things right is difficult. (Oh, please Bob, just let him be washing his hands after he does the litter box and before he does dishes.)
#4. Also, I need to clean the rabbit cage, so that's also a factor. Hang on, I have a nephew who needs work...
#5. Probably not relevant, but the former manager's voice-over used a specific word starting with 'ex'. I can't remember it, and it's torturing me.
#6. One of the racist road signs was antisemitic, and disgust at the signs turned into fear for my own safety then--I knew something would happen to me if I didn't get out of there right away. I'm not sure where that certainty came from, since I'm not Jewish.
#7. I haven't been to the zoo in ages, or in a Best Buy for even longer, so I'm not sure why either appeared in the dream.
#8. The road was in Forest Park (where the zoo is located), but the roundabout with the signs was somehow also at or near Webster University. I don't associate Webster University or the burb in which it's located with racism, but there has been a race-related dust-up elsewhere in the burbs making news recently. It's possible that my city-girl dreaming brain plucked random Webster scenery out of my memory to stand in as a stock image for 'the burbs', since they mostly blur for me.
That dust-up, for reference: Missouri state law requires unaccredited school districts to foot the bill for shipping students to an accredited district if their family requests it. The Normandy school district (98% black) in St. Louis County is shipping kids to the Francis Howell district (86% white) in St. Charles, and both sides are upset. Normandy parents are looking at a school 20 miles away and wondering if it was chosen for its distance, to discourage students from transferring. Francis Howell parents are worried about (a) extra students from Normandy putting a strain on Francis Howell's resources, (b) poorly performing students from Normandy dragging down Francis Howell's averages and putting its accreditation at risk too, and (wtf) drugs! gangs! violence! There's the occasional whiff of "We moved here to get away from all that!"
The issue came up for discussion in a summer when terrible schools and stressful race relations was already a hot topic in my circles, so it's probably just waking brain overflow.
#9. Why was I flying? Don't know. Control issues, career trajectory doubts, one too many viewings of The Avengers--take your pick. I have the same issue with my dropped glasses: was it a hint that I'm not seeing something properly? That I need to focus? That I would be getting up in a few minutes to hit the bathroom and had forgotten where I'd set them down? I just don't know.
Though, oddly enough, I am pretty sure that the threatening old-fashioned car had something to do with how badly Captain America sucked.
The shop in my dream wasn't the actual shop. It consisted mostly of an outdoor area that was clearly the local zoo, with a brief glimpse at an interior that was just as clearly a Best Buy. As I was taken around in a golf cart on the standard first-day tour, I saw cages that were obviously in need of cleaning, and also noted that there were many more cages than there had been when I previously worked at the shop, with zoo keepers luring still more animals into cages, pens and even corners blocked off with chicken wire. Many of these animals weren't pets, or even real (one was a blue Pixar wombat), so this was clearly a display area, but I had the sense that the display was for my benefit rather than the public.
I approached my old manager at the shop and told her I'd like to start my rounds early. Given how long it has been since I worked there, the greater number of animals to prepare for overnight, and the amount of spot-cleaning I knew would be necessary, I thought I should give myself a little buffer of time to do the job right. Though she agreed, I heard her (in voiceover) as I left expressing doubts about hiring me back.
So I took a deep breath and forced myself to leave it be. I reminded myself that I needed to trust my co-workers to do their jobs, not discount them off the bat as slackers, and not get back in that mode of thinking I had to do all the heavy lifting.
While I was thinking these things, I was flying along at car-level along an asphalt road in Forest Park. No machine, no broomstick, just me. I was headed for a roundabout near an administrative building, apparently to pick up my dropped glasses. As I neared the roundabout, however, I saw a slew of racist road signs and knew I would be hassled. I circled to my glasses, crossing in front of an old fashioned and very shiny black and chrome sedan, like something out of an old horror film. It was menacing all on its own, but as I leaned down to pick up the glasses, the car inched out of its parking spot behind me. It didn't bump or come after me, but it was threatening nonetheless, so I tucked my glasses away and hurried back the way I'd come.
Notes, details and explanations
#1. As jobs go, the word mining is a mixed bag. I love the freedom of working pantsless, I miss the stability of a job that was over when I walked out the door. After a stressful few months of putting out fires for clients who forget I have to sleep too, I was half-heartedly considering the feasibility of a part-time gig for the benefits and steady paycheck. It would never work, but it should tell you how frazzled I've been that I gave even half-serious consideration to going back into retail.
#2. The golf cart tour is straight from my days working at the local zoo. My memories of that job aren't as fond as my memories of the pet shop gig. The blue Pixar wombat is a mystery.
#3. The pet shop gig attracted a lot of slackers who taught newbies 'a better way to do things', and then framed and blamed newbies when their slacking caused problems. My in-dream worry about making sure things were done properly, and my in-dream reminder that I don't have to do it all myself and need to trust others to do their jobs, stems from several years of trying to minimize that damage.
I suspect it also has to do with my sister telling me to put her son to work when he's over at my house, and him asking for jobs to do to earn cash. Though I've eased into it with some tasks I hate, backing off and trusting that he's doing things right is difficult. (Oh, please Bob, just let him be washing his hands after he does the litter box and before he does dishes.)
#4. Also, I need to clean the rabbit cage, so that's also a factor. Hang on, I have a nephew who needs work...
#5. Probably not relevant, but the former manager's voice-over used a specific word starting with 'ex'. I can't remember it, and it's torturing me.
#6. One of the racist road signs was antisemitic, and disgust at the signs turned into fear for my own safety then--I knew something would happen to me if I didn't get out of there right away. I'm not sure where that certainty came from, since I'm not Jewish.
#7. I haven't been to the zoo in ages, or in a Best Buy for even longer, so I'm not sure why either appeared in the dream.
#8. The road was in Forest Park (where the zoo is located), but the roundabout with the signs was somehow also at or near Webster University. I don't associate Webster University or the burb in which it's located with racism, but there has been a race-related dust-up elsewhere in the burbs making news recently. It's possible that my city-girl dreaming brain plucked random Webster scenery out of my memory to stand in as a stock image for 'the burbs', since they mostly blur for me.
That dust-up, for reference: Missouri state law requires unaccredited school districts to foot the bill for shipping students to an accredited district if their family requests it. The Normandy school district (98% black) in St. Louis County is shipping kids to the Francis Howell district (86% white) in St. Charles, and both sides are upset. Normandy parents are looking at a school 20 miles away and wondering if it was chosen for its distance, to discourage students from transferring. Francis Howell parents are worried about (a) extra students from Normandy putting a strain on Francis Howell's resources, (b) poorly performing students from Normandy dragging down Francis Howell's averages and putting its accreditation at risk too, and (wtf) drugs! gangs! violence! There's the occasional whiff of "We moved here to get away from all that!"
The issue came up for discussion in a summer when terrible schools and stressful race relations was already a hot topic in my circles, so it's probably just waking brain overflow.
#9. Why was I flying? Don't know. Control issues, career trajectory doubts, one too many viewings of The Avengers--take your pick. I have the same issue with my dropped glasses: was it a hint that I'm not seeing something properly? That I need to focus? That I would be getting up in a few minutes to hit the bathroom and had forgotten where I'd set them down? I just don't know.
Though, oddly enough, I am pretty sure that the threatening old-fashioned car had something to do with how badly Captain America sucked.
