A crap of a day
This is me just bitching. About my job. That I don't even know why I keep doing.
I can sell you a business that isn't open, it isn't even built, you don't even know where it will be, how much it will cost to build, when it will open, and how much money it will make, but I can't sell fucking insurance. I want to cry. It doesn't seem to matter what account it is or what the circumstances are, something always goes wrong. I know they won't all be perfect, but to have every single one have something go astray? It's like a fucking curse. And the kicker has been chhip giving my account away to some chick in the Bellevue office. I won't even get a finders commission off of it. How long have I been working on that one? Oh, only a year and a half. A fucking year and a half, I finally got Cathy to set up the meetings and get everyone's approval, and how do I find out she's turned around and given it to her friend? She sends out a form email to the chhip staff telling us about a meeting to introduce Aflac next week. Well, I'm sure as hell not fucking scheduled for that meeting, my rsd isn't scheduled for that meeting, so I emailed Cathy right back, and that's when she tells me that she decided to go with her friend. Fuck! And I can't even yell at her about it because in the same sentence she tells me she is talking with someone at the Seattle Girl's School and is going to set me up with a meeting. And she says she will introduce me to other businesses that she knows. So if I yell at her, I fuck up those chances, not to mention making it mighty awkward for the rest of my employment at chhip for having cursed out the HR director. Sob.
So I find this all out after I've been driving all morning (see bellow), and I'm all stressed because Michael the neighbor keeps calling me about helping him set up for tonight's block party that he coordinated, and I still haven't finished editing the roundtable for SpellCast which really really really needs to be done and then I read a message from Robert making it even more important to get it done and shit shit shit I have two hours before Michael comes knocking down my door to drag me out to help him clean up the street (because since I'm an apartment manager of course I have nothing better to do than help him set up his block party) and I'm way behind on my unit turnovers and my phone keeps ringing and there are fifty other things I've been juggling in my mind that I need to not forget to do and I look at my email and fuck, there it is, no Aflac account. And all I want to do is drop everything, run up the stairs to my apartment, and curl up into a little ball on my bed with Quentin and cry. But I don't, because I'm a damn responsible adult who does what she has to do, and is really good at pretending everything. is. ok.
On lighter job news, I started an independent currier job (basically that means I'm a contract currier for a local currier company in which I use my own car and they send me out to pick up and deliver all sorts of things that people curry, like printing or escrow papers or blood samples or wine or car parts or really just about anything you can imagine that needs to go from here to there). I realized that I can't really afford to keep my car at the rate I'm going, so I decided what better way to make more money to pay off my car than to drive it. The currying job can pay really well, but it can also pay crap. It pretty much depends on how much the dispatcher likes you. The big companies like the blood lab pays crap because they have a huge volume discount (I get a percentage of the total, which is based off of distance, weight, and time). They are also usually short trips (between a doctors office and the blood lab is usually within a few miles) and are super light weight. My second day on the job, that was all I did, deliver blood to the lab from all sorts of medical parks. When I looked up how much I got paid for four hours of straight driving, I wanted to cry. $35. That's not even $10/hour, I still have to pay taxes, and I used a shitload of gas. But the next day the dispatcher decided that I did know what I was doing and sent me on much better runs, and it more than made up for the previous day. It's been pretty decent since then. It's been stressing me out, though because I go straight from driving to apartment managing, and there is no down time. Either I'll get use to it or I'll end up cutting down my hours.
I'm also super stressing about something else, but I'm avoiding it, so I'm not going to talk about it. Forget I typed this at all. (sob, it's so not going to work out)
I can sell you a business that isn't open, it isn't even built, you don't even know where it will be, how much it will cost to build, when it will open, and how much money it will make, but I can't sell fucking insurance. I want to cry. It doesn't seem to matter what account it is or what the circumstances are, something always goes wrong. I know they won't all be perfect, but to have every single one have something go astray? It's like a fucking curse. And the kicker has been chhip giving my account away to some chick in the Bellevue office. I won't even get a finders commission off of it. How long have I been working on that one? Oh, only a year and a half. A fucking year and a half, I finally got Cathy to set up the meetings and get everyone's approval, and how do I find out she's turned around and given it to her friend? She sends out a form email to the chhip staff telling us about a meeting to introduce Aflac next week. Well, I'm sure as hell not fucking scheduled for that meeting, my rsd isn't scheduled for that meeting, so I emailed Cathy right back, and that's when she tells me that she decided to go with her friend. Fuck! And I can't even yell at her about it because in the same sentence she tells me she is talking with someone at the Seattle Girl's School and is going to set me up with a meeting. And she says she will introduce me to other businesses that she knows. So if I yell at her, I fuck up those chances, not to mention making it mighty awkward for the rest of my employment at chhip for having cursed out the HR director. Sob.
So I find this all out after I've been driving all morning (see bellow), and I'm all stressed because Michael the neighbor keeps calling me about helping him set up for tonight's block party that he coordinated, and I still haven't finished editing the roundtable for SpellCast which really really really needs to be done and then I read a message from Robert making it even more important to get it done and shit shit shit I have two hours before Michael comes knocking down my door to drag me out to help him clean up the street (because since I'm an apartment manager of course I have nothing better to do than help him set up his block party) and I'm way behind on my unit turnovers and my phone keeps ringing and there are fifty other things I've been juggling in my mind that I need to not forget to do and I look at my email and fuck, there it is, no Aflac account. And all I want to do is drop everything, run up the stairs to my apartment, and curl up into a little ball on my bed with Quentin and cry. But I don't, because I'm a damn responsible adult who does what she has to do, and is really good at pretending everything. is. ok.
On lighter job news, I started an independent currier job (basically that means I'm a contract currier for a local currier company in which I use my own car and they send me out to pick up and deliver all sorts of things that people curry, like printing or escrow papers or blood samples or wine or car parts or really just about anything you can imagine that needs to go from here to there). I realized that I can't really afford to keep my car at the rate I'm going, so I decided what better way to make more money to pay off my car than to drive it. The currying job can pay really well, but it can also pay crap. It pretty much depends on how much the dispatcher likes you. The big companies like the blood lab pays crap because they have a huge volume discount (I get a percentage of the total, which is based off of distance, weight, and time). They are also usually short trips (between a doctors office and the blood lab is usually within a few miles) and are super light weight. My second day on the job, that was all I did, deliver blood to the lab from all sorts of medical parks. When I looked up how much I got paid for four hours of straight driving, I wanted to cry. $35. That's not even $10/hour, I still have to pay taxes, and I used a shitload of gas. But the next day the dispatcher decided that I did know what I was doing and sent me on much better runs, and it more than made up for the previous day. It's been pretty decent since then. It's been stressing me out, though because I go straight from driving to apartment managing, and there is no down time. Either I'll get use to it or I'll end up cutting down my hours.
I'm also super stressing about something else, but I'm avoiding it, so I'm not going to talk about it. Forget I typed this at all. (sob, it's so not going to work out)