Cattula

Coming Up For Air

Or at least that is what it feels like...

After about two weeks of crazy, non-stop anxiety I decided to take a little break from trying to get pregnant.  I am back on one medicine that is easy to get off of for a short respite.  And I'm glad I did it - because I felt like I was drowning and now I can finally catch my breath.

Also, certain things happened at my current job that confirmed my decision to look for a new job.  I learned there is no option for me to ever go part-time - because if they let me do it then everyone would want to do it - or such was their reasoning.  Plus, they changed our performance plans such that you have to be a robot capable of an astronomical degree of perfection - as in no more than one mistake per quarter - to do well there.  Please!  I think I make more than that per day.  Not because I am incompetent or lazy.  Just human.  And I need to go somewhere where that is respected.

On all other fronts life persists the same.  No magical genie has shown up to tackle my laundry.  But I remain ever hopeful and vigilant...

Warning: You May Not Want to Read This

I do realize that typing that makes you want to read this even more - after all, there might be something juicy in this post.  But there really isn't.  Just a lot of ranting so I can look back on this someday and see I made it through.

I've been going crazy lately - raking my brain over what to do.  You see, I hate my job.  It's lonely and unfulfilling, and most of all - some part of me (stomach, heart) drops every time I walk into the building.

In short, if God has a plan for me I don't think this is it.  I think I belong someplace where I can help people and feel useful.  I think I belong in a non-profit.

And voila! I have an interview this Tuesday (I guess because I sent in a cover letter and resume and all that jazz - but it could also be some strong universal force pulling me there - I don't count that out).  So problem solved, right?

Oh, if only life at cattula.com were so simple.

You see - the crazy job - the job that causes the heart/stomach drop - actually has some good things to it.  Like a flexible schedule which lets me go to work at 7 am - and leave by 3:30 p.m.  And if I have to work with a baby - I would rather have as much time as possible with them when they are awake.  My boss also says I might be able to work part-time or I might be able to telecommute.  I don't think the non-profit can offer me those things.  But I will ask.  (Don't worry - am smart enough not to ask until given offer.)

So I'm stuck in this cycle of contemplating money and purpose and time.  How do I get the most time possible to spend with my kids?  How do I do what I feel called to do in the world?  Why didn't I major in something more useful?

And how do I know that I'm even clearly thinking about anything - given that I had to give up the anti-depressants that keep me sane in the hopes of having a baby?

Hello out there!  Any ideas?

If so, just let me know.  Otherwise I'll be in the corner lamenting the fact that I ever became an adult.*

* And of course lamenting in the corner is code for wildly searching the Internet for an answer.

Too tired to write much...

but this is just a quick note to say - the people - they talk.

Today was much better than yesterday - there was work to be done, conversations to be had, and low and behold - a boss who took pity on my shivering self and told me to bring in my space heater tomorrow.

Horray!

Please Talk To Me...

About anything. I don't care.

Thermo-nuclear physics? That sounds fascinating.

The particular mathmatetical formula that describes how and why masking tape never tears in a straight line? Perfect.

What? You can only speak Pygmie. Well rock on you pygmie speaking fool.

The problem with the new job is the lack of human contact. Yes, I know, I wanted a flexible work day and the option to telecommute - I just didn't realize that came at the cost of my sanity.

Would you like to meet my new friend - Fred the beachball?

Almost no one is here - and those that are have locked themselves behind closed doors and are slaving away. No time for idol chit chat - thank you very much.

So it's just me. And my beach ball. All Tom Hanks style.

Rock on.

And finally...

the rest of the story...

Just like Paul Harvey:)

The new job is going quite well.  I have been amazed by the following things:

• the space-age Coke machines
• the self-flushing toilets
• my name on the door
• the personal printer on my desk
• the availabilty of assistants to assist me
• the fact that furniture was being moved today and I had nothing to do with it

I have lamented the following things:

• the strict policy baning space heaters
• the tempature of the building
• the problem that results when combining these two

So, all in all, the job = cold, but well.

First Day

T minus 1 hour thirty-seven minutes and thirty-four seconds...

Things That Happened On My Last Day...

• I cried.
• The attorney who introduced me to the new area I will be working in gave me a gift certificate to Amazon.com.
• And he promised to take me out to lunch sometime.
• And then I cried.
• My two bosses gave me a gift certificate to Macys.  We talked about my beat-up shoes and how now I could get new ones now.
• We laughed about how I could never find my umbrella.
• The snack bar lady honored my addiction to gum balls by giving me a quarter so I could have one "on the house."
• I cried.
• And ate my gum ball.
• My co-worker told me to stop crying.  I said, "Yes, I really should.  After all, my husband says I will shame the name of our clan if I cry on metro."  To which my co-worker replied, "Wow - your husband is really cruel."  "No," I said.  "He's not cruel - he just has a weird sense of humor."
• And somehow, I didn't cry on metro.

It's Hard to Say Goodbye...

Tommorrow is my last day at my current job - I start my new gig on Monday.  And while I am delighted to have this new opportunity, it is still hard to say goodbye.

I started at this job three years ago - and life was very, very different then.  I had moved to DC on a whim - with no job, no contacts, and suprisingly little cash for someone undertaking such a move.  And I temped for a while until I landed at my current position, and they decided to keep me. 

I have been here three years and in that time I have learned so much about my profession, become more at home in DC, and married my husband.  I kind of feel like I grew up here.  Which is what makes it so hard to leave. 

But I know the reasons I decided to leave - and I know they haven't changed.  I know I am making the right move - and yet is still hurts.

I can't say goodbye.  So I'll just say goodbye for now.

Note to Self

When you tell your co-worker that you have accepted a new job, and she says, "That should be a lot more..." and then pauses, do not say anything. Otherwise you will say something like, "a lot more interesting" only to find out she was going to say, "a lot easier to commute to."

Deck me out in Avacado and Orange

Because, clearly, it is the 1970s around here.

Between the Gutenberg Press and the use of our modern day typewriter - look! it even employs QWERTY to create labels, we are clearly in touch with the modern era.

Maybe next we'll get some of that  newfangled tape and really embrace the future.   Which is good, because we are expecting Mary Tyler Moore any minute now.  (Quick - can you check and see if my bouffant  is holding up?)

Wow, that 70's routine got old astoundily quickly, so let's just turn this into a topicless rant about various work things.

The complete chronological files are neither complete nor chronological.  I think we should rename them - perhasps something along the lines of "the half-assed sort of chronological arrangement of some files, but not the one you need right now."  We'll call it HASCASM for short.  I kind of like that actually.  It's like Hazmat for files.

And then there is lunch.  Lunch is different for everyone.  It has to do with where you stand on some complex social scale.  The high end of the scale can take long, lesiourly lunches, that involve shopping, and probably even martinis.  The middle of the scale gets about an hour's break.  Those on  the bottom rung have a timed 30 minute interval.  Unless, of course you are special - see the discussion of the  high end of the scale above.  But please note, just because you were special yesterday doesn't mean you are special today.  And even if you were special  15 minutes ago, that may have just changed.  Take careful note, past expereinces of specialness in no way imply future experiences of specialness.  So if you are going to be brave and leave the building - be prepared.  You must be willing to knock over small children and the elderly in your quest to return to the office on time.

Okay, I feel better now.  Rant over.  Time for me to go apply nail polish to the runners in my stockings that I like to pretend just happened becasue I haven't had time to buy new ones.  How many weeks do you think I can pull this off?