People often ask me whether I like my job, or how it’s going. If I’m being polite, I say that my co-workers are nice, and it’s going well. It’s helping me to save money to pay for top surgery (on Friday!) and move back to Chicago. It’s steady, and I’m grateful to have a job in this economy. If I’m being more honest, it sounds something like this: it’s distressing, and it’s frustrating. Dealing with angry people makes me wither a little inside. I hate being called “ma’am.” I feel like I’m not contributing to the world. I almost feel like I’m someone else. Continue reading
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