So I have a new job, and that is great. But I have to learn new things, ask questions about every task, no matter how seemingly simple, take copious notes, and be the new girl. And be on my best behaviour. It’s tiring.
It’s like getting a divorce and dating again.
It’s also odd to have an hour for lunch. I don’t know what to do with my time. Eat, pee, smoke—it only takes me about twenty minutes. And if I could—and should—and want to eliminate the “smoke” portion of the festivities, that would leave me forty minutes of lunch hour. I suppose I could start going for walks. Then I’d be all healthy and non-smoking and stuff.
I want to write on my lunch hour again, but where? And I don’t want any questions about what I’m scribbling away at…
I have a six-minute walk from where I can park my car to the office. It’s down a nice residential street, and I get to admire everyone’s front gardens along the way. There is one house, alas, that has a front yard with zero appeal. It really sticks out like a sore thumb among everyone else’s green thumbs. Next to it is a house for rent.
This is the current ad for that house: Oak Bay area. Vinyl floors in kitchen, hardwood in living room and bedrooms. Washer, dryer, fridge, stove. Seperate (sic) garage. Furnace protection plan. Fire place in living room. Oil heat.
This is the ad that I would write: Charming character house on quiet street in Oak Bay. Only steps to grocery store, shopping, doctors, restaurants, and more, yet nicely situated on an established residential street. Easy walk to bus stop. Lovely garden and nice yard, with picket fence. The house features hardwood floors in the living room and the two bedrooms, and has a cosy fireplace. Four appliances are included (fridge, stove, washer and dryer). Separate garage. Oil heat, and a furnace protection plan is in place for the furnace. Sorry, but no pets or smoking permitted.
I quit my job.
Doesn't everyone dream of doing that some days? Some days, more than others? We don't, usually. Familiar is good, and safe is good. The known, the predictable. But obviously, I wasn't happy enough in my job to stay, despite everything. So I quit.
But that’s okay, I got a new job.
It all seemed to happen so fast. It was Friday, and I was sitting in at reception for the shoeless receptionist’s lunch (one hour) and then mail run (additional twenty-five expletive minutes) and perusing Craigslist, looking for another job, when I saw one that I thought I could do.
So I arrived home from work, crafted up a cover letter, and attached my newly revised, quite revamped, and thoroughly critiqued and improved resume. I applied, via email (didn’t have spend a penny for stamps, envelope and nice paper) for the job on Friday night, got a call on Saturday. I interviewed on Sunday, and accepted Sunday night. On Monday, I gave my notice.
I didn’t throw up, either. In fact, I was quite numb for the two weeks I stayed to finish at the old job. Quite calm. Unfazed. Except I had trouble sleeping at night (and I never have trouble sleeping at night) and was exhausted during the day. And also, was eating everything I could find that wasn’t nailed down, mouldy, or entirely unappealing.
I had been with the same company since March 2001, so it has been a big change for me.
But sometimes change is good.
