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wakeiseiyoNo, really!
... I just started a blog (with no readers, because I haven't advertised it) elsewhere, because I've decided THAT spot is where I'm dumping all my food/makeup/domesticity posts. Here is where I'll sequester my neverending supply of rants against the Big Bad World. Just keeping the theme, and all that.
Work is Not Sucking right now - switched positions, the lady who was contirbuting to the unhealthy environment is now with another office (but still calling like she works here... uhmNO), and while the entire system is still notoriously dysfunctional, I don't hate my life and want to die every minute I'm at my desk.
... I still have to get over the PTSD of being AT that desk, however* - my cube hasn't changed yet, so I still have that niggling sense of being trapped without escape, and the occasional urge to gnaw off a limb in the hope that it might somehow help. Arf. (Cleaning out my cube, partially as an excuse for Halloween decorating, helped immensely - no more calendars and reminders of events that don't concern me anymore! I can see upholstered, bisque-colored walls again!)
* The most effective summary for the last 10 months of work has been basically the 5 Stages of Grief - mourning the joy I found in actually getting up and going to work in the morning. That's pretty well dead as a doornail now.
That said, I've also come to the firm conclusion that while it is Fuckin!Awesome to be employed in a state with unemployment percentages in the upper teens or low twenties (depending on how you count it and how you define unemployed), I've also come to the realization that if I lost this job, I don't think I'd be crying all that much. It's just a paycheck, now. I work to live, not the other way 'round. And my new set of coworkers are of the same mindset - get it done, and go home. Try again tomorrow. Also, it's property insurance. I *get* property insurance. I don't get cat-herding secretarial duties, which is what I was doing before. (The gal doing it now was my shoulder and sympathetic ear for many angst-filled breaktimes around the parking lot, so she knows what she's getting into. She's also happy doing secretarial cat-herding and has a better relationship with the woman in charge of the whole program. I wasn't Persian enough for her or something - it was a bizarre dynamic. [Seriously, she never spoke to me more than once.] )
And in really awesomesauce news, I passed my insurance licensing course and exam. Which means I can advise you on your coverage and you can sue me for E&O because you don't like what I have to tell you! Joy. I am now in the ranks of ProfessionalsTM. (Ffffffck...)
... I just started a blog (with no readers, because I haven't advertised it) elsewhere, because I've decided THAT spot is where I'm dumping all my food/makeup/domesticity posts. Here is where I'll sequester my neverending supply of rants against the Big Bad World. Just keeping the theme, and all that.
Work is Not Sucking right now - switched positions, the lady who was contirbuting to the unhealthy environment is now with another office (but still calling like she works here... uhmNO), and while the entire system is still notoriously dysfunctional, I don't hate my life and want to die every minute I'm at my desk.
... I still have to get over the PTSD of being AT that desk, however* - my cube hasn't changed yet, so I still have that niggling sense of being trapped without escape, and the occasional urge to gnaw off a limb in the hope that it might somehow help. Arf. (Cleaning out my cube, partially as an excuse for Halloween decorating, helped immensely - no more calendars and reminders of events that don't concern me anymore! I can see upholstered, bisque-colored walls again!)
* The most effective summary for the last 10 months of work has been basically the 5 Stages of Grief - mourning the joy I found in actually getting up and going to work in the morning. That's pretty well dead as a doornail now.
That said, I've also come to the firm conclusion that while it is Fuckin!Awesome to be employed in a state with unemployment percentages in the upper teens or low twenties (depending on how you count it and how you define unemployed), I've also come to the realization that if I lost this job, I don't think I'd be crying all that much. It's just a paycheck, now. I work to live, not the other way 'round. And my new set of coworkers are of the same mindset - get it done, and go home. Try again tomorrow. Also, it's property insurance. I *get* property insurance. I don't get cat-herding secretarial duties, which is what I was doing before. (The gal doing it now was my shoulder and sympathetic ear for many angst-filled breaktimes around the parking lot, so she knows what she's getting into. She's also happy doing secretarial cat-herding and has a better relationship with the woman in charge of the whole program. I wasn't Persian enough for her or something - it was a bizarre dynamic. [Seriously, she never spoke to me more than once.] )
And in really awesomesauce news, I passed my insurance licensing course and exam. Which means I can advise you on your coverage and you can sue me for E&O because you don't like what I have to tell you! Joy. I am now in the ranks of ProfessionalsTM. (Ffffffck...)
