Oh, the horror!
Tomorrow. Is. Monday.
Aaaaaaaaaaahhhh!
Don't make me do it, no, I swear, I won't, I can't, you will not make me go back and sit at that nice big real wood desk in my real office with walls and a ceiling and a door I can close instead of a crappy cubicle (but okay, no window) and hate it hate it hate it!
See, this is the agony of my Sunday night. It's like this every week. Having spent a most enjoyable weekend doing whatever (this weekend it was hanging out in Winston on Friday night and seeing a movie on Saturday, all while ingesting shocking amounts of saturated fat- we ate burger and shakes for dinner on Saturday and still had a large popcorn at the theatre...oh, and there were the fried eggs and hashbrowns for breakfast, and did I mention that I stopped off at McDs at o'dark thirty on Saturday morning on the way home and inhaled an Egg McMuffin and hashbrown before I went to sleep? Oh, but it was so good. And I ate an Herby Turkey for breakfast this morning to clean out my system... but we won't discuss the Nachos Bellgrande I had for lunch, but it did have chicken on it, okay?) So anyway, a good weekend was had by all, and we picked up the Kid this afternoon early and went home and did productive things like putting up the bunk bed and cleaning and I sat down at nine in delighted anitcipation of cheesy goodness to dip my Hint of Lime Tostitos in and realized-
"Damn it. I have to work tomorrow."
I think I might have mentioned previously how much I hate my job. And I feel terribly guilty about it. It would be one thing if I hated my crappy job because my boss was a pill and my co-workers sucked and my company was a cesspool of corporate misdeeds.
But my boss (and her boss) are the nicest people you could want to meet, much less work for, and my co-workers are all very nice and friendly, but not in that fakey fakey way or that weird, stalkeresque way, and my company is a model of conservative investment and ethical dealings.
But I hate my job, the actual part that I carry out to get the paycheck. I have had boring jobs before, but none that paid this well. Yet another reason I feel guilty about despising this job.
I figured it out the other day, I think. My previous job (same company) was stressful, but I was figuring out things, solving problems, getting things done, making a difference (well, sort of, anyway.) This new job involves me pulling numbers from reports and importing them into other reports. No problem solving skills necessary. Hell, you could program a computer to do this shit (and I don't see why they don't, but I'm glad of it, so at least I have my crappy job until the other shoe drops, which would be our impending 'transaction,' but that's another story entirely...)
In the past, I always thought it was the people you worked with, not the job, that made it tolerable/intolerable. Then I met this job. And I have been shown the error of my ways.
Yet every time I contemplate cutting out, I feel so guilty. I have a good-paying job with nice people, those don't come around every day, and hey, I may be out of a job in 4-6 months anyway, so better off to wait around and see if I can get severance, and maybe take my employer's 401k contributions with me, and don't I realize how lucky I am? I just can't turn off the Jewish grandmother in my head admonishing me for even thinking about taking any risks at all. She sees the corporate ladder and wants me to climb, climb, climb my way to financial security, and therefore, heaven. I just fear that the farther I climb, the farther I will have to fall (or that at the very least, I'll be afraid to jump off even more than I am now.)
What's a girl to do? Oh, well. At least I get to be fabulous for a few minutes tomorrow. I'll let you know if I win anything.
Aaaaaaaaaaahhhh!
Don't make me do it, no, I swear, I won't, I can't, you will not make me go back and sit at that nice big real wood desk in my real office with walls and a ceiling and a door I can close instead of a crappy cubicle (but okay, no window) and hate it hate it hate it!
See, this is the agony of my Sunday night. It's like this every week. Having spent a most enjoyable weekend doing whatever (this weekend it was hanging out in Winston on Friday night and seeing a movie on Saturday, all while ingesting shocking amounts of saturated fat- we ate burger and shakes for dinner on Saturday and still had a large popcorn at the theatre...oh, and there were the fried eggs and hashbrowns for breakfast, and did I mention that I stopped off at McDs at o'dark thirty on Saturday morning on the way home and inhaled an Egg McMuffin and hashbrown before I went to sleep? Oh, but it was so good. And I ate an Herby Turkey for breakfast this morning to clean out my system... but we won't discuss the Nachos Bellgrande I had for lunch, but it did have chicken on it, okay?) So anyway, a good weekend was had by all, and we picked up the Kid this afternoon early and went home and did productive things like putting up the bunk bed and cleaning and I sat down at nine in delighted anitcipation of cheesy goodness to dip my Hint of Lime Tostitos in and realized-
"Damn it. I have to work tomorrow."
I think I might have mentioned previously how much I hate my job. And I feel terribly guilty about it. It would be one thing if I hated my crappy job because my boss was a pill and my co-workers sucked and my company was a cesspool of corporate misdeeds.
But my boss (and her boss) are the nicest people you could want to meet, much less work for, and my co-workers are all very nice and friendly, but not in that fakey fakey way or that weird, stalkeresque way, and my company is a model of conservative investment and ethical dealings.
But I hate my job, the actual part that I carry out to get the paycheck. I have had boring jobs before, but none that paid this well. Yet another reason I feel guilty about despising this job.
I figured it out the other day, I think. My previous job (same company) was stressful, but I was figuring out things, solving problems, getting things done, making a difference (well, sort of, anyway.) This new job involves me pulling numbers from reports and importing them into other reports. No problem solving skills necessary. Hell, you could program a computer to do this shit (and I don't see why they don't, but I'm glad of it, so at least I have my crappy job until the other shoe drops, which would be our impending 'transaction,' but that's another story entirely...)
In the past, I always thought it was the people you worked with, not the job, that made it tolerable/intolerable. Then I met this job. And I have been shown the error of my ways.
Yet every time I contemplate cutting out, I feel so guilty. I have a good-paying job with nice people, those don't come around every day, and hey, I may be out of a job in 4-6 months anyway, so better off to wait around and see if I can get severance, and maybe take my employer's 401k contributions with me, and don't I realize how lucky I am? I just can't turn off the Jewish grandmother in my head admonishing me for even thinking about taking any risks at all. She sees the corporate ladder and wants me to climb, climb, climb my way to financial security, and therefore, heaven. I just fear that the farther I climb, the farther I will have to fall (or that at the very least, I'll be afraid to jump off even more than I am now.)
What's a girl to do? Oh, well. At least I get to be fabulous for a few minutes tomorrow. I'll let you know if I win anything.
posted by gabrielle at 10:08 PM
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