Let Go

I can’t work here in the fall?

But I’ll be here for grad school, and I’ll only be working thirteen hours. That means I’ll still be able to work twelve here, which I know is the required number of hours to work a week to be kept on pay roll. What do you mean there’s a new rule? Why should it matter if I have another on-campus job? Why shouldn’t I be able to work two on-campus jobs at the same time? I can’t work here anymore? I won’t drive buses anymore?

It’s generally popular to shit on one’s job, no matter how much one is actually invested in it or perhaps secretly enjoys it. It’s something that’s easy to do in conversation — Ugh, I fucking hate this job, it’s so ridiculous. I can’t wait until I get out of here. But then you’re told by your boss that you actually can’t work there anymore, and suddenly it feels like something is being taken away from you. You’re forced to admit how much you actually like your job, how much you enjoy the strange and sometimes inexplicable calmness you experience when driving the bus at one in the morning — when you know you should feel tired and ready to go home, but really what you feel is content. You have to acknowledge how much you’ll miss the chaos of driving a bus during a class change, or trying to decipher the static filled radio conversations desperately trying to warn you of the detour you’re about to encounter; that you’ll miss seeing the faces of the coworkers you love to complain about and complain with, and hearing the slightly too loud and too nasal voice of your boss echo through the office from the other side of the building.

I can’t work here anymore? But I have a commercial driver’s license, and a perfect driving record. I never even hit anything, or anyone! But I can’t drive because of some stupid rule? Aren’t we short on drivers? Aren’t we always advertising that we’re hiring because we’re so desperate to have more drivers, yet you’re turning away someone who’s willing to stay?

Maybe I don’t want to leave. Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t think I’d have to think about not driving here, since I thought I still had time. Maybe I feel bad about complaining. Maybe I’ll miss my family here.