Flickering

Just edited and reformatted my boss’ personal email which featured 4 fonts types (including Comic Sans) and 3 color and size changes.  This is pretty commonplace.  To be fair, the boss was not responsible for these font alterations (as s/he does not know how to utilize those features) except for the standard blue of the reply text.  Unfortunately, s/he’s now exasperated with me because one of the hyperlinks is purple rather than blue and is ignoring my “but that’s because you just clicked it” explanation.  This person can’t change a font size — I’m not about to explain internet caching.  Last week, I tried to explain the lack of html in an email sent to the boss via Blackberry and gave up about halfway through when I realized s/he had gone zombie-eyed on me.

Look, I am not trying to insult people who have word processing difficulties.  It takes awhile to become familiar with the ins and outs; I get that.  I feel like this is a good time to add that there is no learning disability associated with this person, and s/he does not have any medically diminished mental capacity, lest you take me for a heartless bitch.   The issue is that this person refuses to learn, even after years of repeating the same actions on a daily basis.  For instance, I’ve been trying to teach this person how to paginate for the past seven years.  I even created a step-by-step screencap of how to do this, but when this packet was misplaced (my mistake for not making 10 backup copies) the shit hit the fan and I had to create another (rather than do real work) to preserve the peace.  This is the equivalent of someone requiring turn by turn driving directions to work after having driven there every day for the past 20 years.  Of course, I make the consistent mistake of overestimating this person, who recently ran wide-eyed to me, in a panic that would suggest a ruptured appendix, that the TV was not functional.  So I went to the office, stared at the black screen, touched the power button on the television, gave a quick smile and walked out.  I didn’t say anything because I was worried it would be profanity-laden.  This is not a fancy new television, by the way, but a CRT that has been in that office for the past ten years.

Don’t get me wrong, I am absolutely thankful to have a paycheck.  But these feelings have become increasingly prominent as I test the job market and evaluate my stock as an employee.  And I realize that, despite my proficiencies, I cannot climb out from the hole I have fallen into.  Try as I might, I cannot disguise the anger I feel every day over the severe lack of movement in my work, the significant amount of time I waste explaining the same 14 processes over and over again, and the fluctuating depression that hits me in waves every time I gain a little confidence in my work.  I can’t help but feel sorry for myself.  I can’t help but blame myself, either, despite an economy that really only allows lateral or downward movement.  Maybe if I weren’t so good at turning on televisions, I would have moved up in the world by now.  And maybe if I weren’t so busy explaining how to single click links and double click file folders, I’d have time to go to meetings and function as a member of the team in a materially useful way.  But probably not.  In such rare instances, I imagine the likeliest use of my time to be counting square ceiling tiles or instigating a staring contest with the flickering fluorescent bulb nearing the end of its sad, wasted life.

In some ways, I resemble that fluorescent bulb.  Bright, maybe too bright for this dim, stagnant office.  A provider of necessary resources for the office, and yet unappreciated, undervalued.  Acknowledged (negatively) when flickering on the verge of burning out.  And when that finally happens, easily and quickly replaceable.  I just feel so disappointed at what I’ve yet to become.

This post will probably come back to haunt me one day, even if I delete it in a sudden moment of mortified clarity (touche, internet cache, touche!) but I am just so dismayed to be operating at 3rd grade level that I’m going to allow myself this post for now.   You know, until I edit and reformat.  It IS my specialty, you know.

Verbal blunders

Just reread a draft of a report, where I wrote about budget cuts to certain “social prograsms.”

No!  Not the PROGRASMS!  

Needless to say, I’m SO glad I caught this.  Apparently sleeping nine hours last night has NOT, in fact, elevated my work product.  Although who knows, maybe those nine hours are the very reason I saw it in the first place.  More importantly, why didn’t Word underline it initially?  ::panic::

Thank you sir, May I have another?

Every time a former client or colleague steps foot into the office and sees my smiling face greeting their arrival, the first thing out of their mouth is, “So…. still sitting there huh?”

So sad.

The not-so-terrible two

“You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you might find, you get what you need.”

That’s right, I just quoted the Rolling Stones.  Leave it to good old fashioned rock-and-roll to make me realize why I should be content with being #2:

• I still have the love and support of all the VIPs of my life.
• I am still smart, capable and charismatic. And now, stronger for it. And tonight, fuller (because I plan to treat myself with pity froyo).
• I did not want to settle. I am looking for growth, not stagnancy.
• I would’ve started looking for another job as soon as I stepped foot in the door anyway.
• I have already had my eyes and teeth checked, but have yet to make an appointment for my annual physical exam.
• I haven’t slept much lately. The quick turnaround would have wreaked havoc on my mental state.
• I have 2,465 square feet of house and only about 10 empty boxes.
• I can avoid moving twice, and therefore avoid confusing the post office with repeated address changes.
• I probably have about 20 bags worth of stuff to donate… but I don’t know where any of it is at the moment.
• I don’t have to pay exorbitant fees to change the airfare I have already purchased.
• I can attend some Giants games while I’m still in town.
• I can wear shorts in April!
• I will be able to spend time with my family on Mother’s Day and my dad’s birthday.
• I don’t have to turn my dog over to my parents. They love him, but he turns into a total butthead at their house.
• And hey.. at least I made it a tough decision for them (so they say… but I choose to believe it).

I feel better already.  Onward…

Another day, another dollar

 

Failure is a detour, not a dead-end street.  - Zig Ziglar

Unfortunately, faith is so hard to come by sometimes.

So we meet again

I’m illegitimate again.

Seven years after graduation, I thought I was past the stage of life where my college major mattered and I’d have to justify the utility of my English degree.  But alas, applying for jobs in a technology-centric world has creative ways of  making a very exhausted job seeker doubt herself more and more each day.

The latest: In an attempt to submit my education history to an online HR system, I was blocked from claiming English as an acceptable major.  In fact, the popup window noted an “Invalid value” error, referring to some sort of underlying spreadsheet coding error, but its wording stung anyway.  Because damn it, I’m sensitive to the fact that my degree is of invalid value!

Ok, back to it.

I can’t believe I’m staying up for this.

Just desserts

A follow up to my previous post to further justify my actions.  As a word geek, this is a totally legitimate excuse for behavior as of late.

I don’t drink; I eat

Typically, after a long, hard day at work, people look for ways to take the edge off.  Some go out to happy hour with friends; some take long, hot baths; and some head straight for the liquor cabinet to reward themselves with half a bottle to ease the tensions of the day.  No, I do not advocate drinking as a means to manage your stress, merely making an observation that this happens ALL THE TIME.  I’m lookin’ at you, Don Draper.

What do I do?  Well last night, I ate half a box of fudge bars.  Just try to say no to this:

Oh yeah.  Someone got chocolate wasted.  Okay, before you judge me too harshly, I should say that I really only ate half of what was left of the box (four glorious bars).  And at 100 calories each, I was actually making a health-conscious effort to reduce my anxiety.  I know, I know, you’re stunned by my impenetrable logic.  Isn’t it funny how people can find ways to justify anything?  Somehow I didn’t have time to go running because it was too cold out, but I was able to sit down and eat four frozen fudge bars.  Not to point fingers, but I think SOMEONE needs to reevaluate the priorities in her life.

But not today.  Right now, my priorities are fudge bars.  I could do worse.

Tough

Tough times never last, but tough girls do.

Just a little something to remind myself where my bootstraps are.  I’m not as strong as I pretend to be, but I’ll get there.

 

On the job

I tend not to write much about my employment status and constant, desperate job search because let’s face it: nothing is ever private on the internet.  The chance that some enterprising, tech-savvy boss/colleague/intern will stumble across my musings and connect the dots is a distinct possibility and has been the driving force behind my vague (yawn) commentaries on workplace shenanigans and career hopes.  However, my inability to forge a career or find my way into a new one has, over the past few months, grown to be more emotionally charged and I need a sounding board other than my poor boyfriend, who never knows how I’ll react to his words of support.  He rightly refuses to enable my self-loathing, which is born self-deprecatory but inevitably, over the course of the conversation, warps into an unrestrained sarcasm and uncontrollable moodiness.

To merely proclaim that I am invariably lodged between rungs on my career ladder is to grossly understate the issue.  In my most highly charged moments, it feels like I am treading in the ocean, faced with the choice to either turn back into familiar waters, or push forward, toward an entirely foreign land.  Equidistant from both coasts, the current is pushing me backward, and frankly, I am damn tired of treading.

I understand that everybody has that unfortunate inbetween moment in their careers.  But I also work in a niche industry, and HR departments seem to have difficulty looking past that.

Keeping all this in mind, it’s no wonder why I choose to blame myself than some economic force of nature.  I have no control over this force… but I do have control over how much time and effort I contribute on my end.   Coupled with the fact that I grew up with strong values about taking responsibility for mistakes and failures and maintaining modesty in successes, I am totally screwed as a candidate for employment.  I concede that my attitude doesn’t make much sense in the grand scheme of things, but in my distorted reality, it is all I can hold onto.

This blog will have to serve as my outlet during the day.  I can only hope that once my thoughts are on paper, so to speak, my frustration will subside and we can address the core of the issue.  (Sorry, boyfriend.  I love you!)  While I don’t plan to actively reveal my exit strategy to my coworkers, I no longer mind if people find out that I’ve been checking Linkedin every day.  Since I will be leaving this company in a few months anyway, is it really so bad if they suspect something?  What are they going to do, fire me?  Don’t I get a severance package if they do?  Hm… new plan…?  Just kidding, y’alls.

And now, the beef.

• Embarking upon my routine job search last night, I found some promising opportunities and elected to apply immediately. Quickly editing my resume, I submitted my applications and then moved on to another task at hand. Within the hour, I received two canned responses regretfully informing me that I have failed to qualify for the jobs, etcetera.  Admittedly I have seen my share of these emails, which I add to my mental tally and then delete on the spot. What made this uniquely entertaining, however, was that these were both entry level jobs whose descriptions specified no requirements for qualifications, not in experience nor education. So in summary…. I was instantly rejected –twice, thank you!– by computerized HR systems that deemed me insufficiently qualified for their zero-qualification jobs. Yup, I have definitely hit a new low.

• During the course of my day, I came across a fantastic full time research analyst position that would be mentally stimulating, for which I would be properly compensated. I felt so lucky to have finally found a job that I knew I qualified for and that I could excel in!  When I finished reading the ad, I noticed that the employer was the same that flew me out for an interview several months ago, and who was extremely unhappy that I turned down their job offer. So there goes that.

• And finally, I had a chat today with a very kind man whose advice, in a roundabout way, confirmed that I have been approaching the job search in all the right ways and that there was no magic formula that I was missing. Unfortunately, this only leads me to believe that perhaps I really just am not good enough.

It’s a good thing I don’t drink.