In university we were taught to always title our papers when we were finished writing them. The idea was that you would ristrict yourself if you wrote the title first. Writing can be explorative, and as you put the words on paper you might head down a different (and perhaps more interesting) path than you were expecting. Having a title can restrict that process a lot. It is the difference between driving with a GPS and getting straight to the restaurant you were looking for (which ended up having mediocre food and you had to wipe the knife off on your shirt because someone else dinner was still caked on it) and driving around lost for hours and finally giving up and going to a diner that looks like a dive but the food is divine.
I’ve always prefered the accidental diner over the intentional restaurant, and yet I always come up with a title first. I suppose the flip side of all this is that a title can focus you so that you stay on topic and don’t go rambling on about university, writing, GPS and diners instead of what you meant to write about: How much work sucks.
I suppose I didn’t want to dive right into the topic at hand because there is quite a bit that I like about work. There are a lot of cool people here (even my moms likes them). Sometimes what I do is interesting. Sometimes I get to learn new things. Sometimes there is a glimmer of hope that this could lead me down a career path that doesn’t involve a title with "ass" in it (Personal ASSistant, Exective ASSistant, ASSistant to the Regional Manager, etc). I would like that. I would like it a lot.
But I’m beginning to wonder if the journey will be worth it.
It is one thing to drive around for hours (sans GPS) if the scenery is lovely along the way, there is someone kick-ass to talk to and laugh with on the way, and in the end you get to… well, maybe not where you expected to be, but at least it is somewhere cool. Preferably with beer.
I’m not seeing any beer at the end of the tunnel and the scenery is mind-numbing at best and terrifying at worst.
So… what happened today to make me so venomous about work a scant three days post mommy-vacation-goodness and Portugal-sunshining-at-least-we-aren’t-in-the-fucking-office-weekending? It’s hard to explain.
If I itemised a list, you would think I’m just moaning. And true, true. I am. But it is hard to explain. It isn’t just X, Y, and Z that has happened over the last few days. It is that we were told X, Y, and Z wouldn’t happen anymore. It is the way that X, Y, and Z shakes down. It is how everyone feels. The air in here is toxic and I think it is not doing my complexion any good. Anger + stress = worse skin than a greasy prepubescent McDonald’s drone. Seriously.
I promised myself I would walk if things weren’t getting better. And they aren’t getting better. They may. One day. But how long do I wait before I jump ship? Do I give it more time? Should I only consider that one aspect? That I swore if there were shenanigans or that things didn’t improve I would leave? Or is it worth it to wait it through until the end of the year so I have a year’s experience with one company in the UK? Is it worth it to give it more than three months and see if the changes weren’t just slow in happening? Is it worth sticking around and seeing if I end up learning more than I ever possibly could in yet another "I would love to fetch you a coffee" role.
Sigh. If I’m not anyone’s bitch anymore, why do I feel so bitchy?