Sigh. Another God-damned day.
My trainee had a restless night. I don't know if he's colicky or has gas or what, but he kept me up all frigging night. Maybe he's teething, I don't know. If they let us have whisky on here, I'd hit him upside the head with the bottle and have a big gulp and go back to bed.
Alas, if wishes were horses, etc.
OK, it's hard enough being forced to have a man older than me pretty much hanging onto my pocket like we was in prison, following me around, asking me questions while I'm juggling numbers in my head, talking on the radio and filling out paperwork at the same time. It leaves me exhausted. Then I go to bed, and he's there too, in my spare bunk, getting up a half-dozen times to see what my partner is doing, when the hydraulics kick on, when nature calls, whatever. When he gets up, I wake up.
The poor guy is earnest and trying to learn as much as he can as fast as he can. How the hell can I complain about someone who wants to be there and wants to work? I feel like a whiner. Oh well, I'll own it. I like the guy well enough. But Jesus, I'm going to hang myself if I don't get some fucking sleep and an hour by myself soon. A little bit of false advertising by the lying liars at HR doesn't help. The man was supposed to be already trained. He is not.
Little things become big things. The slow drip of water on the forehead becomes a hammer over time. Curiosity becomes pestering. Distraction becomes danger.
This is not a good look for me, I realize that. I don't like men who show weakness in public. This blog is my pressure-relief valve. It's keeping me, and him, alive. I guess that's a good thing. Doesn't feel like it.