time for an update?

So some time has passed since my last post, and some things have changed. It's a new year, for example, and that means I'm another year older, what with my birthday following so closely on the heels of New Year's Day. Happy Birthday to me.

The big news is that I found a job and quit that job, all in the space of these past few months. That one sentence can't even begin to encompass the range of emotions I went through in that brief time. Back in November I was wasting time online when I found out that a brand new yarn shop had recently opened quite close to where I live. I was so excited! I was at the shop the next day with my resumé and some samples of my work. I spoke with the shop manager, whom I liked right away, and within a few days, I was being interviewed by her and the shop owner. I was thrilled when they hired me on the spot, and I began working there almost immediately. Initially, I felt so at home there, and wanted to learn everything about the shop as quickly as possible.

The first sign of trouble was when the shop manager gave her two-weeks notice. I had so looked forward to working with her and knowing her better. But the good news for me was that the owner wanted me to step up and become one of three "team leads" in her stead. I was offered a raise and the chance to set my own schedule. It all seemed too good to be true - and you know what that usually means. The owner told me she had hired and promoted me for my experience, which made sense to me. I had worked in two other yarn shops, and knew alot about what worked - and didn't work - in that setting. I realized pretty quickly, however, that the ideas I suggested to her were not being implemented and were never going to be implemented. My "duties" were unclear to me, and over time I grew increasingly uneasy about meeting expectations of which I was not aware. I began to dread the shop owner's impromptu visits, and her many emails were always upsetting to me. Ben urged me not to read the late night emails I received from her before I went to bed as I got too upset to sleep after reading them. I kept telling myself, things will get better, things will get better.

I soldiered on, and worked hard, both at my job and at making friends among my co-workers, which was very important to me. I began to feel successful in both those areas, and that was, of course, when the hammer fell. The shop owner came in one night when I was working late, and asked me to stay after the shop closed. I had already worked an eight-hour plus day, but I sat down to talk with her. To listen to her, I should say, because that was when she unloaded on me. That was when I at last learned what her expectations of me had been. She criticized everything about me, even mimicking the way I spoke. At first, I tried to answer her criticisms, but it quickly became clear that she wasn't interested in a dialogue. So I listened until she finished and I left.

I drove home carefully that night, not letting my emotions make me careless. When I got home, I told Ben, "I think I may have to quit, " and I outlined what had happened that night. "Don't you ever go back there!" he told me. "That's it. You don't have to take that." Well, in fact, I did have to take it, but not for long. Since email seemed to be her communication of choice, after careful consideration I wrote her one the next morning, outlining my resignation. Then I went in to work. She came in later that day and asked me if I was sure about my decision. Oh yes, I assured her, and the sooner the better. She seemed surprised, which surprised me. What about me made her think she could talk to me the way she had and that I would just take it? I kept hearing Tweety Bird's voice in my head saying, "She don't know me very well, do she?" And she never will.

I feel very glad to be away from the oppressive shop owner, but sad to have left the friends I was making among the customers and my co-workers. I miss them. And I especially miss helping the enthusiastic new knitters who came into the shop looking for a familiar, friendly face and some encouraging help with their fledgling projects. I was good at that. I am good at that. That has not changed.

breakin' the law

I noticed the other day that my university parking pass had finally expired, so I threw it away. It felt okay to do that. When I first left the university, I knew I would leave the pass on my car until I felt ready to be without it. I didn't feel ready for a long time.

In the small university town where I live, most of the cars are small foreign cars - Toyotas, mostly, but Hondas and Subarus and Mazdas, as well. A good percentage of those cars sport university parking passes. I see them in parking lots at grocery stores and restaurants and the public library. A quick glance shows one the pass hanging from the rearview mirror, a closer look identifies the lot where the bearer parks. For a long time, I couldn't imagine driving around town without that identifying marker.

It's not that the university didn't want the pass back. I received an email not long after I left demanding its return, threatening to ticket me if I tried to use it in any of the campus lots. I thought about all the times I couldn't park in the lot I had a paid permit for because so many cars that didn't have passes were already parked there, and I knew I didn't have too much to worry about.

I did use it a few times in the past eleven months, actually. I have been back to visit my former co-workers occasionally - less frequently as time has passed and I have grown accustomed to being away from them. I don't have it any more, though, so I will have to be a scofflaw like dozens of others if I want to park on campus again - a risk I am willing to take.

good luck with that

I wanted to verify a rumor before I shared it, and I was able to do that yesterday when I stopped in at the office to deliver my gift of Halloween mix. (The visit went very well, but that's not what I want to talk about right now.) Anyway.

When I left my job over three months ago, the position was duly posted, applicants were interviewed, and the position was offered to one of the applicants - who refused it. Hm-m-m... Why would someone apply for a job, interview for it, then refuse it, you ask. Well, maybe because the job sucks. So, back to the drawing board. I found out yesterday that the position was re-configured, given a new title, and re-posted. What is the difference between the two postings? Well, the new title offers more money. Isn't that ironic, dont'cha think?

I'm not saying that I would have stayed if they would have offered me a promotion, but it sure would have made me feel appreciated. Now I just feel vindicated.

it's the first day of school, and I feel fine

Yesterday I was reminded of the weekend before classes started last year when I laboriously psyched myself up for the first day of a new school year. It really was a weekend-long project. I just kept telling myself, a new year, a fresh start, brand new excited students at college for the first time. And you know, it worked. I went to work on that first Monday of classes feeling optimistic and with a smile on my face. Only to be told when I got there that I would not be doing the same job I did every other day of the year, but that I would be stuck working probation and dismissal.

Probation and dismissal comes at the end of every semester, of course, and only one person in my office knew how to run the whole process from start to finish. For who knew what reason, last year she decided that I was going to do it from then on instead of her. She lobbied with our supervisor, who agreed. So, instead of greeting excited new students and answering their questions, I was stuck doing a project I knew nothing about and had no interest in learning. Can you guess who got to be the first friendly face who answered all the questions? Oh yeah. The person who dumped her task on me.

I made it clear to her that I was not happy with the situation, and, in fact, told her that there was no point in my learning the process because I would be gone before it had to be done again. Well, it took me longer than one semester to accomplish that, but I am by god not doing it this year, am I? I am also not crying in the restroom like last year wondering how the first day of classes had turned into the worst day of classes for me. And that is a definite improvement.

it's always a trade-off

I got an email the other day from one of my favorite students, and for the first time since I gave my notice six weeks ago, I feel sad about leaving my job. Are you surprised to know that I have favorite students? Of course I do. We all did. You just can't help it when you work with students on a daily basis. Some of them wait until they are hopelessly bogged down and tearfully demand a quick solution to an insoluble problem. Some of them are incredibly needy, with needs that can never be met. But some of them, well, they just steal your heart.

I hadn't heard from this student in over a year. He has been in and out of school a couple times, and each time he is ready to come back, he gives me a call or sends me an email, to sort of "test the water," I think. I am always delighted to hear from him, and I try to let him know that. He makes an appointment, and I assure him I can't wait to see him. When I emailed him back this time, I encouraged him to make an appointment, as always, but had to tell him I won't be there. I will be very sorry not to see him.

It is important for me to remind myself, however, that what had once been the most important part of my job, (and the part I felt I was best at), that is, being the initial contact for every student who came to our office, had been taken away from me. Instead of being the first face every student saw, I was an incidental person who only saw students when the receptionist was overwhelmed or had a question she couldn't answer. After I lost contact with the students, there just didn't seem to be a real good reason for working at a university.

Classes start in ten days, and for the first time in five years, I won't be there. On the plus side, that means I won't have to answer the same question from hundreds of incoming freshmen (and their truly horrible parents), but at the same time, I won't be there to greet my returning favorites or meet new ones. That makes me a little sad. And I know it was my decision and it is my loss, but I think it might be the university's loss just a little bit, too.

So while I wish the incoming class of 2011 (!) good luck, I most especially wish a good year to the students who will be returning and who might actually miss seeing my face at the counter. I'll be thinking about you.

so far, so good

Well, it's Friday and the end of my third week at home, so I thought this might be a good time to re-examine my feelings about leaving my job. First of all, it's raining out. I mean really raining. As it has just about every day this month. I have to time Rufus' walks in between downpours. But, you know what? I don't care. Honestly, I don't care at all. When it's not raining, it's too hot for me to spend much time outside, anyway, so let it rain.

I am eating much healthier than I was, and I am drinking lots of water. I am taking Rufus on the aforementioned walks, but I haven't found the nerve yet to go down and see if the treadmill is indeed on the fritz again, as Julie reported before she left. (I fear that it is.) So my new health regimen is still intact, and I am keeping in mind the wise words of my daughter-in-law, Kristy: "Think of any new lifestyle change like driving a car. Sometimes you get off to the side and you're in the gravel and your tendency is to overcompensate. But just like driving a car, if you over compensate, you're bound to swerve and eventually crash." (Kristy added really hysterical comments of her own, which I edited out. You can read them on her comment to my post "begin the way you mean to go.")

I had dinner a couple of nights ago with my friends Joany and Kristen. *shout out to Joany and Kristen* We had a great time. They are both fellow escapees from my former oppressive work environment. Joany transferred to a different department on campus, and Kristen spent six weeks this summer on an archaeological dig. Joany had only worked with us for a couple of years before she left, but Kristen and I had worked together for almost the entire five years I was there. Her leaving the department was one of the many reasons I couldn't stand to work there any longer.

Needless to say, we were discussing how happy we were to be gone. Kristen raised an interesting point: "You know, I don't miss it there at all. I thought I would really miss it, but I don't." I don't miss it either. That surprises me a bit. I will say I do miss some of the people I worked with there. People I would consider more friends than co-workers, and if you are reading this, you know who you are.

All in all, so far it's good. Really good, in fact. Remind me again why I will have to find another job at some point?

the sick fishy syndrome

Perhaps I need to begin by clarifying that the "sick fishy syndrome" is distinctly different from being a sick fishy. Oh, you don't know what that is either? I will explain.

When my kids were little, they had goldfish, of course, in small glass goldfish bowls. Before too many days had passed, one of the goldfish would develop a definite list. The listing fish no longer swam quickly around the bowl, tail flashing as it dove deeper. Its scales lost their iridescence. It looked like a sick fishy. And although neither Tom nor Julie ever lost their iridescence, and almost never tilted to one side, still, there was a definite look about them when they began to feel sick. It was most noticeable around their eyes, I think, and in the way it seemed to take so much effort to hold their heads up straight. That was when we knew that we had a sick fishy on our hands.

The "sick fishy syndrome" is more about the reaction of the other fish in the bowl to their ailing companion. They know he is sick, indeed, they know he is dying. And they don't want anything to do with that. As the sick fishy swims listlessly around the top of the bowl, they all keep their distance from him. Maybe what he has is contagious.

Some years ago, Ben identified this tendency in the people he worked with when a co-worker had given notice. And we have both observed it many times since then. The soon-to-be-departed is given a wide berth by her co-workers. When she is spoken to, it is in hushed tones about general topics, designed to not upset. Although there are future projects to be discussed and deadlines to be met, she will not be there to meet them. Everyone is sad she is leaving, to be sure, but why delay the inevitable? Just get it over with!

I have often felt sorry for the"sick fishy" in the office as it swims through its final days. But, you know, its not so bad.

backstory

So I quit my job.

Hm-m-m... maybe a little farther back than that.

When I started this job at a large state university five years ago, I loved it. I had been trying for a year and a half to find work here, and I was so proud and happy to finally be part of the university community. And, you know, that good feeling lasted for a while - maybe three, three and a half years. I loved what I was doing, I loved the people I worked with, and I actually felt like I was helping kids learn to successfully navigate the university system.

I was good at my job. Everyone said so. I was eager to learn more. I wanted to know how the processes in our office hooked up to the processes in other offices. I took on more and more tasks that would have never even been offered to my scatter-brained predecessor. And, looking back, I don't quite know when the tipping point was, but I began to realize that not only was my plate full, it was more than full, and really, I just couldn't do any more. I had somehow ended up with all the tasks that my higher-ups hated to do, and had less and less time to do the things that made me feel fulfilled. Having never been the shy, retiring type, I relayed this to my supervisor: "hey, I would like to take that on for you, but, really, I just don't have the time for it". To my absolute surprise, not only did she disregard my repeated efforts to get this message across to her, but she began to view me as a malcontent, someone whose concerns need not be taken seriously.

My concerns were not just for my own position, but for the office as a whole, which had once been a happy, productive place to work, but increasingly was not. People left, and when they were replaced, the replacements left too. We began to have too many chiefs and not enough Indians, as the saying goes, and the work load fell unfairly on too few shoulders. After many attempts to point this out, I screwed up my courage and went across the hall to take my concerns to upper management. How kindly I was treated there! The Big Man seemed genuinely interested in what I was saying, took notes as we spoke, thanked me for letting him know how things really were. Do you think anything changed after that? It did not. And how silly and and naive I was to think that it might.

Lest you think otherwise, let me tell you that everyone likes me here. My desk used to be where everyone hung out when they had a spare minute. I downloaded a photo of a water cooler and taped it there: our "virtual water cooler". One of my student workers has become like a daughter to me, and she and I vacationed together earlier this year. Another co-worker has consistently referred to me as "the crazy glue that holds this office together". These people are my office family in the truest sense. We have gone through baby showers and funerals, weddings and divorces together. And it is hard to leave them now.

But I find that, without exaggeration, for the sake of my own mental and physical well-being, it is time for me to go.

So I quit my job.