Once in a while here a diary or series of comments will detail how outrageous it is of evil corporate goons to make us slave wage hourly types work on holidays. Well, I’ll be working on all the holidays this year and here are some of the reasons I, and others like me choose to do so.
Yes it’s true not everybody gets a choice about when they work. The nature of my job requires I work nights and I make that sacrifice so I may attend school during the day and keep full time hours. In exchange, people give me strange looks when I buy something other than breakfast food at eight o’ clock in the morning, I rarely see daylight, and on holidays I get to be that character in the supermarket with a basket of frozen dinner, the ‘good’ cat food—because my recession refugee cat deserves a nice Christmas meal—and possibly a Malbec I found called Layer Cake if I am not too broke.
Anyway, sometimes there are good things waiting at home for those of us working holidays. Sometimes we need the money to keep the lights on. Sometimes our families are sad we can’t be with them because they’re far away. We do miss those meals, stories, and good times. But there are many reasons to avoid home. Some of us can’t go back. Sometimes home is a mean drunk.
All things considered, I’d rather not deal with it, even if I had the money and could afford the lost hours a trip back West would run me. I work so others can be home for the holidays if they want and so I can be around people. This Christmas I’ll do some writing and entertain the cat. I have some books I’ve been meaning to finish. I’ll celebrate by walking past a row or two of decorated houses on the way to the hotel. This is how I want my Christmas to go. Other than asking if I sleep on the job, which is the most offensive question I field at work, the phrase "I feel sorry for you" is horrible to hear; yet people feel the need to say it to me all the time on holidays.
If you want to be angry with evil corporate goons, that is okay with me, but workers scheduled for holidays is the least of our grievances. This holiday, when you check in at our hotels, pass through our checkout lanes, take our cabs, go through our security checkpoints, dine in our restaurants, heaven forbid visit our hospitals, or drown your in-law’s/family member’s/random stranger’s insensitive or pointed or frankly stupid question or comment with our well-poured martinis, don’t feel bad for us. Don’t feel outraged. We’re doing just fine.