So, I wrote that last post about my unfair review and how I cannot deal with criticism and the next day I got a call about a new job. I start Monday.
BOOM — do not mess with me, mean people. And darling universe — I appreciate the endless job opportunity you send my way, truly. Can we barter for a fertile man now?
The job story is actually a long one, full of coincidence and serendipity, but the upshot is that it’s a totally different job, team, building, etc. at the same company — and the intuitive TOTALLY predicted exactly how it would all go down (and when) at our June meeting. (In the linked post she correctly predicted the circumstances of my LAST new job. She’s coming to family Easter to read all my girl cousins.)
So, obviously, with all of this good fortune, I’m a disaster. The work I’ll be doing sounds great, but my current boss assured me that I’m making a “terrible, disastrous career move” and I must say she got in my head a little bit with that. I never wanted a career, as we have discussed — all I ever wanted was a man and a baby. I want to make them macaroni and cheese. That is the sum of all my earthly desires. And yet, I apparently have a career that I haven’t been able to ruin, and I do really enjoy spending the money I make there on plane tickets, so I guess I need to keep…not fucking it up.
With that in mind, here is what I’m currently worried about vis-a-vis the new job.
Being the new girl. I JUST got over being the new girl, who comes in early and stays late and can’t find the bathroom and has no friends. I HATE being that girl. Now people come and ask me for advice, and I know things, and I am sometimes seen as a subject matter expert! Little old me, from Ohio! I mean, it’s expertise no one cares about, really, but still.
Being underqualified. Hey, did you know that I’m insecure about my educational background? Have I ever mentioned that 27,000 times? True story. I will say that I gave the best answer yet as to why I don’t have my undergraduate degree during this interview process, and I even believed it while I said it. And yet. Casual conversation has subsequently revealed that many (and perhaps most) of my peers in this new role have their MBAs, and so I just ride my insecurity dragon around all day now. His name is Sturmunddrang-on. Giddyup.
Setting poor boundaries. I have learned a lot about myself during this process, and one major lesson is that I am an absolute whore for feedback. It’s like I don’t have whatever it is other people have inside them that allows them to maintain a fairly steady vision of who they are. Where my keel should be, there is instead a big sucking hole that must constantly be filled with other people’s positive feedback. Absent this feedback, I am paralyzed with despair. When I’m in a situation for long enough, I can build a network that can keep me afloat without drowning everyone else — but accomplishing that was harder at this job than it ever has been before. I’m afraid that I will lose sight of myself entirely in my desperation to make new work friends in this new job, and man, people who do that suck. But I was so, so lonely last year. I dread living through that again.
Bad company. I do have one friend in my new building. He’s the one person most responsible for curing my work loneliness, and he is the last person at the company — and perhaps in the world — I should be seeing more often. Because, of course, I am completely crazy about him, and (of course) it absolutely, positively cannot and will not ever be because he belongs to someone else. I guess we can just assume that every three-to-five years when I feel that instant, elusive click with someone I’ve just met, that person will swiftly be revealed to be THE MOST DESTRUCTIVE POSSIBLE OPTION.
So, not to spoil my next several dozen blog posts or anything, but I think I have to tell him that we can’t be friends any more. (We are strictly 100% above-board friends, nothing more, except in my feverish brain.) And then he will ask me why! And I will tell him I love him! And he will be amazed and say he had no idea (unlikely)! And that I have thoroughly misunderstood everything and that in this context, “wife” really means “cousin” and that subsequently there is no reason why we can’t now ride off into the sunset and/or TAKE OUR CLOTHES OFF IMMEDIATELY! OR he will have no idea what the hell I’m talking about, be completely horrified and offended, everything will be more awkward than we can possibly imagine, and I will die of discomfort and stupidity. One of those. (Note: There is no “other woman” option for me, I promise. And I keep telling people that to help me stick to it, because this has weakened me.)
And of course, failure. I gave such amazing interviews, you guys. Even I loved me for a couple of minutes there. The match between what they need and what I do comfortably and well seems almost too good to be true. They are genuinely excited to have me…so now I am going to have to do all this work all the time, and frankly, all I want to do for the next few months is sit in the sun, go to the pool, write, and find someone to have sex/fall in love with. That’s all I EVER want. I’m a simple person. I prefer snuggling to strategizing. I can’t help it.
Is that enough of a catch up for now? I also need to tell you about:
- My trip to New Orleans where I hung out with the adorable Slauditory
- The six days post-New Orleans during which I vomited every hour and laid on my apartment floor alone and prayed for death, and how great that experience has been for my mental health.
- My new contacts and how it apparently was not merely the glasses that were preventing people from falling in love with me.
- How I am desperately trying to turn my overabundance of sexual energy into something positive.
- What I said about my education situation in that interview — I need to record that shit for posterity.
Don’t let me stay away for so long! I get sad and stupid.