It’s been a rough 90 days, integrating back into the working world. At least one day a week, I have to really hunker down and fight off the urge to quit. Once you quit a high-paying job, like I did last year, it’s much easier to do it a second time. When I don’t find myself downright pissed off, I try to laugh at the Dilbertness of it all.
Yeah, that’s hard. It’s just not that funny when it’s your life.
The best part of the new job is that my boss went to a lot of effort to find me a place to sit where there is almost no foot traffic. I’ve realized that I am far more sensitive to everything than I want to be and having a quiet spot is truly priceless. I don’t have this weird need for “face time” like so many of my peers – maybe because I don’t buy in to the career path theory. I really want to be under the radar as much as possible. No recognition; no reward; just getting the job done.
There are good moments and I’ve made some new friends. But mostly I’m refilling my bank account and hoping I can stick with it long enough to feed myself for a while after I quit again. I told my husband I would try to stay for five years, but after the first five days I realized that probably wouldn’t happen.
The commute averages 70 minutes a day, round trip. It’s a lot of stop-and-go highway traffic. I don’t really mind it, but that kind of driving makes me nervous about having little fender-bender accidents. I listen to NPR and try not to give the bird to the countless people who cut me off and then honk at me for good measure. I’m not an aggressive driver, but that’s more due to the car I drive than my own personality. There is a reason I chose a four-cylinder engine – it’s for your safety as well as mine.
There is a bit about working that makes everything else surreal, particularly when you head upwards of 60 hours a week. At first I could do no more than eat and sleep and work. It was all-consuming. Now it’s just consuming. Some days I can eat, sleep, work and read. Today, I ate, slept, worked and wrote.
Today is a good day.
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