August 19, 2010
Meatloaf or Spaghetti?
Let me share a comment from Stacey, which, I believe, succinctly sums up the thoughts of probably everyone here. (Or both of us here, depending on how many readers I want to pretend that I have.)
"Do you really want to work here permanently? Really?"
No. I don't. But I'm not sure that question, while poignantly logical, is entirely relevant.
You see, here in this organization, I have some worth. I have a reputation. I have value. Hard to believe, if today is not your first day reading, but there are many people here who know firsthand how awesome I am, and there are every more people who have heard how awesome I am.
I feel like, if I have any shot at all of getting a job during this recession, I have a better shot at a place where I'm a known commodity, rather than showing up on some doorstep with twenty other applicants as just another stranger with just another resumé.
Does that make sense?
Six more work days for me. Is that not crazy? I suppose I should be panicking and speculating and mining my contacts for information. But I'm not.
The strangest sense of ennui has come over me. I no longer have an interest in my own future.
Thirteen days from now, on September 1st, I will be doing one of two things.
1. Unpacking my box of stuff that I'd packed on the 31st and getting settled in my new cube, and meeting with my new bosses to find out how, exactly, to jump into the fray.
2. Waking up, making pancakes for husband, going back to bed for a bit, then texting all my friends to see who wants to play hookie and see an afternoon movie with me.
Both scenarios have their pros and cons. I would find both to be disappointing and a huge relief, in different ways. But each requires such a completely different mindset, I have no idea what to do with my brain in the meantime.
It's like, when you're really hungry, and you're deciding what to do for lunch, and you can't decide where to eat. You're hungry! You know you're going to eat! But nothing is jumping out at you. Your tastebuds seem to want something that's completely unavailable, but you don't even know what.
Wait, that's a dumb analogy.
It's more like -- I don't know what Mom's making for dinner, so I don't know what to set my tastebuds to. Is that a bizarre concept? I got it from my Dad. He liked to know what he was going to have for dinner well in advance, so he knew what he was looking forward to, and so he didn't have something similar for lunch.
Leftovers or steak? Meatloaf or spaghetti?
Unemployment or new career level? Freedom or indentured servitude? Working on my novel or being a productive member of society?
Pizza or chicken casserole?
What's for dinner, Lady Luck? What should I set my tastebuds to, Fickle Fate?
I'm not even hungry anymore. I'm going for a walk.
Comments
I don't even know what to say, Wenchie. I can't even think of a joke. I hope the best possible circumstance occurs for you, for your happiness and for your future. You've done all you can. Time to turn it over and let it go.
Posted by: Diane Schmidt at August 19, 2010 06:32 PM
If you are in need of something to do....help me write my book.
Posted by: Matt at August 19, 2010 08:06 PM
Well if you are gainfully unemployed like me, we could both sit in our respective basements and watch the same movie on tv while we talk on the phone. It's very When-Harry-Meet-Sally and just pitiful enough to represent our current lives.
Posted by: JB at August 20, 2010 07:15 PM