![](http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4710/309/320/Overtime.jpg)
This week's whirlwind of overtime, managing a temp worker and driving Barb here and there (Liz had our car while hers was broken down) all add up to that much loved word, 'stress.' Downsizing to skeleton crew status has affected a lot of businesses, including ours. When someone goes on vacation and we're swamped, the hair pulling begins as the more inexperienced goons take up the slack. So I was #1 goon this week, doing my regular job plus another added in for good measure. Sound familiar? They call it 'being flexible.' It's not in your job description, but 'cross training' has been secretly inserted into your contract whether you like it or not.
Am I complaining? Not when so many are out of work and live like peasants around the world compared to me. And God usually plans these times of exhaustion so I can pay for that unexpected and inevitable catastrophe. He gives me the strength (barely, but enough) to do it. It's little wonder everyone died so young 100 years ago. Their 12 hour days plus Saturday killed them early. We're all living on added time in the 21st century, even with the work stress. Quit complaining.
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