My husband works for a retail company (that may or may not be European and you may or may not be able to get a side table for 7.99 from them). It's a great company with really great core values and the most AMAZING benefits that you will ever find, really. Thus, we put up with his shitty hours. This company is the whole reason that we even live in Charlotte.
My rant is that there is no consistency, routine, pattern or even transparency when it comes to my husbands working hours. Since he's salary there is no limit to how many hours he can work. I try so hard, I really do, to be a patient, level headed wifey who smiles and nods with constant approval. 8 hours go by and, whatever, he rarely works just 8. Then 9, then 10... and then the blood starts boiling. Especially now that I have my own job I'm trying to work into our "routine".
I try to calm myself because I know that my anger will only stress him out and he doesn't deserve that. He's just working his ass off to support our family. A girl can only be so lucky as to have a guy who is so driven and determined. But I just keep thinking about "when the f&%# is going to be home?". I have shit that I would like to accomplish today too! And the kids are driving me up the f&#%ing wall! I start getting resentful, and hating all of his superiors. I moved here with this company and feel as though I am just as much a part of it as any of the people actually working there, but nobody ever asked me how I felt about 15 hour work days or overnights, or 14 GD kitchen events in a year. Everything that happens there bleeds over into my personal life.
After I have my big blow up and all my frustrations are unleashed onto my husband like a blood hound on an escapee, I end up feeling like a real shit head. Seriously, had I written this post 4 hours ago, it would have had 6x as many f&%#s in it as it does now. After he got home, I headed toward uptown intending to run the "pick your distance" meet up, but I wasn't going to make in time (I didn't feel like running anyway) so I just drove around to clear my head. Days like these make me feel like a terrible mother ( I was so short with kids), a lousy territory manager (I accomplished very little for work today), and bitch instead of a wife (I think that one speaks for itself).