28.5
Okay, two things about the subject:
One, I'm a couple of days late. Frankly, I don't know if I would have written on Friday anyway, I was just happy to be at home. (More on that later.) But as you might have noticed, I haven't written anything in here in five months, so as you might be able to tell, this hasn't been my first outlet of expression recently.
Two, it's kind of weird to even acknowledge a half-birthday; usually only children care. Then again, sometimes I can be a bit like a giant kid, so I guess that's no big deal.
But the reason I mention it is more along the lines that going into my last (full) birthday, I liked how my life was going, or at the very least, compared to what it was after leaving grad school, it was much, much better. I had what was easily the best employment situation that I've had since leaving college, but the Friday before my birthday, I had what I thought was a great interview with a non-profit libertarian organization in Chicago to become a writer for them -- which is much, much closer to being a career than a job -- and the next day, I was going to visit my girlfriend for a week.
Halfway into the trip, she broke up with me. Apparently, I wasn't a good enough boyfriend, but good enough to still be a friend (but yet not a good enough of a friend to tell why I wasn't a good boyfriend). That, along with a few other things that just didn't (and still don't) add up told me I was better off without her in my life at all.
About a month and a half later, the organization I interviewed with told me that they weren't going to hire more writers at the time, which after about a month of delayed decision dates, wasn't all that surprising, but that didn't make me that much happier about it.
Now I am just about ready to leave the job I have as soon as I possibly can.
I took the position I have because, well, at that point, it was a much more steady job, I felt it was something I could do and something I might even enjoy doing until a good career opportunity came along.
This winter reminded me why I hate winter. The snow, the cold, the wind, the driving conditions and the goofiness of me buying a car with leather seats pushed me toward my limits. I've just about made it through (you're never safe here until about mid-May... maybe), so I thought if nothing else, it would give me six months to find something somewhere a bit warmer.
So what happened? Well, I'll give you the short version. My supervisor doesn't let you know when you're doing things she doesn't like immediately. When she does finally let you know, she doesn't do it succinctly, she doesn't do it pleasantly, I'd say she exaggerates her case (then admonishes you for possibly disagreeing with her gospel truth) and after she's yelled, screamed, and otherwise made you feel uncomfortable she tries to repair any hard feelings you might have gathered. Now I'll admit she had the right to be concerned about a number of things, but others were wrong, and there were some accusations made that were flatly insulting.
For example, one of the things she wanted me to keep a group of publisher's catalogs organized. The catalogs are dusty. The bins they are in have dust bunnies and remnants of dead bugs in them. You can say that's my fault, but do you know what that also means? Nobody uses the damn catalogs. She assumed I didn't do it because I hated it; actually, while it's not exciting, it isn't terrible. I didn't do it because it simply makes more sense to wait until you have a good number of catalogs than to go out there every time she piles ten catalogs on my shelf especially sense they're hardly ever used.
But even then, keep your own personal biases about what I do and why if you want, but don't browbeat me. Don't repeat the same damn things over and over again twenty times. Don't keep using that authority stick and try to offer me a carrot later. And this is how she does things every time.
So wish me luck in finding something else. And if you hear of something else you think I can do, writing job or not, liberty-oriented or not, please feel free to let me know.
One, I'm a couple of days late. Frankly, I don't know if I would have written on Friday anyway, I was just happy to be at home. (More on that later.) But as you might have noticed, I haven't written anything in here in five months, so as you might be able to tell, this hasn't been my first outlet of expression recently.
Two, it's kind of weird to even acknowledge a half-birthday; usually only children care. Then again, sometimes I can be a bit like a giant kid, so I guess that's no big deal.
But the reason I mention it is more along the lines that going into my last (full) birthday, I liked how my life was going, or at the very least, compared to what it was after leaving grad school, it was much, much better. I had what was easily the best employment situation that I've had since leaving college, but the Friday before my birthday, I had what I thought was a great interview with a non-profit libertarian organization in Chicago to become a writer for them -- which is much, much closer to being a career than a job -- and the next day, I was going to visit my girlfriend for a week.
Halfway into the trip, she broke up with me. Apparently, I wasn't a good enough boyfriend, but good enough to still be a friend (but yet not a good enough of a friend to tell why I wasn't a good boyfriend). That, along with a few other things that just didn't (and still don't) add up told me I was better off without her in my life at all.
About a month and a half later, the organization I interviewed with told me that they weren't going to hire more writers at the time, which after about a month of delayed decision dates, wasn't all that surprising, but that didn't make me that much happier about it.
Now I am just about ready to leave the job I have as soon as I possibly can.
I took the position I have because, well, at that point, it was a much more steady job, I felt it was something I could do and something I might even enjoy doing until a good career opportunity came along.
This winter reminded me why I hate winter. The snow, the cold, the wind, the driving conditions and the goofiness of me buying a car with leather seats pushed me toward my limits. I've just about made it through (you're never safe here until about mid-May... maybe), so I thought if nothing else, it would give me six months to find something somewhere a bit warmer.
So what happened? Well, I'll give you the short version. My supervisor doesn't let you know when you're doing things she doesn't like immediately. When she does finally let you know, she doesn't do it succinctly, she doesn't do it pleasantly, I'd say she exaggerates her case (then admonishes you for possibly disagreeing with her gospel truth) and after she's yelled, screamed, and otherwise made you feel uncomfortable she tries to repair any hard feelings you might have gathered. Now I'll admit she had the right to be concerned about a number of things, but others were wrong, and there were some accusations made that were flatly insulting.
For example, one of the things she wanted me to keep a group of publisher's catalogs organized. The catalogs are dusty. The bins they are in have dust bunnies and remnants of dead bugs in them. You can say that's my fault, but do you know what that also means? Nobody uses the damn catalogs. She assumed I didn't do it because I hated it; actually, while it's not exciting, it isn't terrible. I didn't do it because it simply makes more sense to wait until you have a good number of catalogs than to go out there every time she piles ten catalogs on my shelf especially sense they're hardly ever used.
But even then, keep your own personal biases about what I do and why if you want, but don't browbeat me. Don't repeat the same damn things over and over again twenty times. Don't keep using that authority stick and try to offer me a carrot later. And this is how she does things every time.
So wish me luck in finding something else. And if you hear of something else you think I can do, writing job or not, liberty-oriented or not, please feel free to let me know.