Furlough

Rather than endure lay-offs, my work has instituted furlough days. You know, unpaid days I don't have to go in and that I will enjoy until I get my paycheck and then I will scream, "OH MY GOD!"
Because, rather than spread the pain out for an entire year, my work has opted to slice up quick, hard, and dirty--meaning furlough days are on whatever paycheck they occur. Period.
December is going to hurt. Two furlough days. "Sorry, kids, Santa is broke because Mommy's job instituted furlough days. Can you say welfare office, here we come?"
I'm a public servant. I don't make a lot for the amount of crap I have to endure from pissed off water customers. I have heathens who, by law, have to be fed, clothed, and cared for. And they demand the extras like heat and light and shoes.
So furlough days are going to hurt.
Bad.
But I keep trying to find that damned silver lining by repeating, "At least I have a job. It doesn't pay worth shit, but at least I have a job."