The Problem with Venting

"Zara," I said, "You are becoming quite unbearable to live with."
I looked around the room. The table was decorated with a collection of used plates, many adorned with the shrivelled husks of used teabags. On the sofa a blanket lay discarded, its folds overflowing onto the floor; dvds were scattered, homeless, around the TV. "Are you referring to the current state of my physical surroundings?" I asked in reply. "Admittedly, I have been a tad lax when it comes to the more housewifely side of things. But that's just because I've been working so much - you know I'm working 40 hours this week? Even though I'm a student with two huge assignments and an exam coming up? And that I'm working six whole days in a row? And don't forget that when I work I do so for about six hours and don't get to sit down or take a break. Is it any wonder that when I get home I collapse upon my sofa and have no energy for things like cooking and cleaning? Or even writing, which is what my whole life is supposed to be about?"
"Your physical surroundings are indeed substandard at present," I observed. "Although I am very used to it. You're not the most, hm, shall we say, fastidious of individuals. But that was not what I was referring to. Actually, I was referring to what you have just so aptly demonstrated."
"What?" I asked, perplexed.
"You've been very negative recently. All you ever do is complain about work. I'm beginning to wonder if people are getting sick of it. I'm getting sick of it. You're usually so ridiculously positive. You know - skipping about the place saying things like 'Fantastic!' when someone asks how you are. What has changed?"
"Nothing has changed," I mumbled. "Except, well, there's a lot I'm not happy about at my work, like I said. That's why I moan. Because I'm grumpy."
"EXACTLY!" I cried. "You're GRUMPY! You're never grumpy! You consider it an offense against yourself to have any sort of negative emotion! Snap out of it, woman! There is always something to complain and get upset about - and yet you never do, because you think it's a waste of time and energy. You find it easier to be happy. Which brings me back to my question. Why so angsty? What has changed?"
"Your face has changed," I snarled.
"In that case, so has yours," I replied good-humouredly.
"Harumph," I muttered.
"Which reminds me of something else. You're actually considering cutting your hair short. Even during the whole getting-upset-and-driving-off-the-road fiasco you didn't cut your hair."
"I thought about getting a tattoo, though," I pointed out.
"But you didn't, because you did other stupid self-destructive stuff," I snapped. Good heavens, I thought. I'm beginning to lose my temper.
"Yeah? Well, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm human! I'm ALLOWED to get angry and upset from time to time! Everyone else does!"
"Ahhhh," I said wisely. "I think I see what has happened. Oh, my darling, you are branching out into the world! You are encountering people with different mindsets, people who don't consider anger and annoyance to be something to be wrong and set aside! And you think, ah, these people who bitch and complain and get angsty still function as people and live their lives! Surely it is alright to get grumpy about things occasionally?"
"But it very well could be! Humans experience anger and other negative emotions for a reason. It's a message letting us know that something is wrong. And at present, work is full of wrong. Hence my anger and annoyance. Which is why I complain."
I seized a cricket bat from my Cupboard of Miscellaneous Metaphysical Items and proceeded to beat myself with it.
"Don't - complain!" I cried, emphasising each word with a good, hard thwack. "By all means feel the angst - but don't pass it on to other people! Sharing negativity just begets more negativity, which does not do the world any good."
"You are right, of course," I said hastily, ducking another swing of the cricket bat.
"And another thing! If work engenders such feelings in you - get another job!"
"I've been looking!" I cried. "It's hard - I've no guarantee that another, similar job would be any better! It could be just as terrible, or bad in a different way! At least with my job I can feel like I'm actually doing something to better my comunity - waitressing for the Waitakere Licensing Trust is probably ethically better than anywhere else."
"Who said anything about waitressing? Do something different. Apply for that job driving chickens about the place. Or the one at the home brewing store."
"Oh, haha, now you're just being silly," I said. Although I had to admit, driving those chickens around did sound appealing.
"I'm not. Something different would be good for you. Promise me that tomorrow you'll go look for a new job."
"I'm working tomorrow," I said morosely.
"Well, on Wednesday then."
"I'm working Wednesday too."
"How about Thursday?"
"I think I just agreed with one of the other waitresses to cover her shift on Thursday..."
"FRIDAY!"
"I'M WORKING ON FRIDAY BECAUSE APPARENTLY I HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO WITH MY LIFE!"
"Fuck, Zara," I said, awed. "You're right. Your work life really does suck. Get a new job."
"Okay," I said humbly.