Hard At Work

David’s job has been requiring a lot more time lately, through circumstances we can’t control, which is hard for me to accept. The week my Grandma died, I had to take Eva to Orange County by myself for most of the week, because Dave’s Marketing Director and Maintenance Director had quit the same week. That left him doing three jobs by himself, handling guided tours, repairing a roof leak and moving a resident to another apartment until he could get their positions filled. He ended up working 13 straight days with no day off, and even had to work a half-day on the day of her funeral. And since he’s on salary, he gets no overtime or compensation whatsoever. Ideally, when he lost a day off one week, he’d be able to take an extra day the next, but it’s taken me two years to finally realize that’s never going to happen. A day off, once lost, is lost forever. Even if he plans for an alternative day off, something always comes up so he has to go into work anyway, and it’s gotten to the point where he’s having to give away at least two days off a month (usually a Saturday). It’s lost time with his family that can never be reclaimed. I don’t blame Dave. I know he’s a hard worker and good at his job, putting his whole heart into it. He really cares about his residents. He’s not a workaholic and would much rather be home. It’s just that to do his job well and meet his goals (or keep from falling behind), he’s having to put in about 60 hours a week, and it bugs me that his company looks the other way, offering him neither an assistant, nor compensation for all his overtime. He’s got a little girl at home that he barely gets to see for more than an hour before she goes to bed, and a family that wants to see him on the weekends. It bugs me that a man who works hard to support his family doesn’t get enough time to actually enjoy the rewards.