Monthly Archives: April 2015
Blogging is the new version of a typewriter, and after typing all day at my job, perhaps the last thing I’d want to do is clickity clack away at the plastic bones. I felt, however, that it serves a catharsis and at the very least provides some info to people I know, about my thought and joys and fears. The funny thing is.. nobody knows about this one yet. For ages I blogged in live journal until a sour relationship was met with some trash-talking against me on my own damned blog by friends of an ex-girlfriend. I’m not sure what is wrong with people sometimes. In any event, I am talking to myself at the moment- this is weird, but at some point this will be set free amongst people I love and know to see my perspectives on all things, but I have not yet found the way I will present it yet. I explored different themes in my last journal, and I may duplicate and alter those themes here. For now.. I have insomnia because i’m overthinking about my work and my direction in life.. hoping that perhaps writing a few paragraphs will shake it out of me.
I don’t dislike the boss that irked me today.. but what I don’t like is that she does my job.. if she’s dissatisfied with the pace, I reckon she can do it on her own. I decided that I might just do that, to see how well she likes it. I don’t feel she appreciates how hard I work at my job. Today she dug into one of my processes (the quick and easy ones of course) and it made me feel inadequate. To the casual viewer, it would appear that she surpassed my work ethos.. yet I was in 2 and a half hours before her, shaving down a third of the emails that she said she would help with.. but didn’t. I was also packeting the aforementioned processes.. the slower and more tedious parts of the aforementioned workload when she did finally show up. When I got to the part she was already churning away on… I managed to get close to duplicating her effort, but the damage was done and I’m not happy with her for it.
I feel like she purposefully does these things and ignores what she SAID she was going to help with. She and my other boss.. I don’t think they’re good supervisors, but seem to know just what to do to make their co-workers feel bad.
Or I am paranoid.
I have to be paranoid though. The reviews they give are nebulous. Their training has been mostly non-existent, more of the “throw you in the fire” treatment.. it’s like a passive-agressive training methodology.
“We trust you to leave you to your own devices, but the moment you screw up.. we’re on you.”
“Oh, and you’re not fast enough so we will do your job for you.”
As a contract employee, of course that makes me feel both inadequate and on the bubble. How can it not?
I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling that I don’t contribute and that everything I do is wrong, yet I work really hard and my mistakes are at a .0000 percentile. How can they drive people like this? How can they drive people like this and pay so little? I’m writing this now so I can re-read it again to myself.
Get through this.
Find something else.
Find somewhere where they appreciate you.
Find a place where your work means something.
Find something smaller that matches your duty of care for your clients.
They do not fit your style.
It’s too bad really. This place is somewhere that I’d hoped to carry on my own personal legacy of comeuppance. I’m a contractor’s kid trying to make a career based on educative step-laddering. In truth, I’m no better off than my genetic predecessors and that is sad, given the sacrifice they gave to help me get further than they did. I cannot work here anymore, and it’s easy to let go of that feeling when things slow down and people are in better moods, including myself. It doesn’t change, however, the way I feel degraded and unappreciated. I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. A large number of people are concurrently in grad school.
They are there for a reason.
I now feel foolish for plausibly submarine-ing myself with my recent acquisition of a sports car. It’s lovely, really it is.. but it represents a bit of a financial anchor, and that makes me vulnerable. At the time I thought that it was a way to say “f-you, I can do this..” and now I’m thinking: FUCK.