You may have read me talking about my new/old job. Just a teeny, tiny, wee bit. The job is doing office stuffs at the local convenience store ~ receiving & pricing inventory, daily deposits & reports, & accounts receivable. This job is one that I quit 8 years ago, after working there for 8 years.
Hmmmm. 8 years, hey? Synchronicity? Anyone else hearing The Police right now? Anyone? Bueller?
So, when I quit the new/old job 8 years ago, I was fed up. Up! To! Here! fed up. The staff was incompetent, the job was shite, the public was annoying as hell, & the hours, while not too bad, were too long for me. I had myself worked up into such a state that I had to drive home at least twice a day because of attacks.
When I left, I didn't even let the door hit me on the ass on the way out. I was gone. I didn't leave on a bad note, or with a sour taste in my mouth, I just left. Good-bye, & good luck. It was past time, & I was past due for a change. Or a rest. Something had to give, & it was me.
Over the years, I have kept in touch with the owners/managers of the store. Living in Dodge, a town of 1,100 people, kinda hard not to. While I wouldn't classify us as "friends", we're definitely more than "acquaintances" but less than "buddies". There isn't a word for what we are. Nothing seems to fit. Whatever we are, we are & always have been on good terms with each other.
Fast forward 8 years. Wilma, in need of some cash, knows that the office girl has just quit {for the 5th time, I might add} & that they are looking for some help again. They always treated me well, paid what they could afford, & were willing to put up with my....um, shall we say "obsessive-compulsive" ways with good humour. They never done me wrong. Here's a chance, says I, to do a solid for a pal? Compadre? Crap! They don't work, either.
Anyhoo, here was my chance to do a favour for someone I liked, whilst padding my bank balance a little as an added benefit.
So, here I go again. Working at the new/old job two days a week. But it's not the same. It's not like it was & there are 2 reasons for that.
1) I am not the person I was 8 years ago. {I think we can all breathe a sigh of relief over that!}
2)I've been given some incredible lee-way regarding which days I want to work, how many hours I want to work on those days, & what I'm gonna do while I'm there. They are being extremely flexible, & willing to work around my other job ~ which is, for the most part, a called-in-at-the-last-minute kinda position. Well, that's what casual mean, right?
The best part? The things that used to pick my ass don't bother me so much anymore. In fact, I'm not really sure what my deal was back then.
The better part? I make the same amount of money at both jobs. Yay for me!
So while I still whinge about money & dental work & not going on trips & trying to afford my little excursions, things are a little better. There's a little less pressure of me & on Puffy. & that's always a good thing.
Cuz there's nothing worse than being Under Pressure!
What? What's that you say?
There's nothing worse than being Under Pressure!
Hmmmm. 8 years, hey? Synchronicity? Anyone else hearing The Police right now? Anyone? Bueller?
So, when I quit the new/old job 8 years ago, I was fed up. Up! To! Here! fed up. The staff was incompetent, the job was shite, the public was annoying as hell, & the hours, while not too bad, were too long for me. I had myself worked up into such a state that I had to drive home at least twice a day because of attacks.
When I left, I didn't even let the door hit me on the ass on the way out. I was gone. I didn't leave on a bad note, or with a sour taste in my mouth, I just left. Good-bye, & good luck. It was past time, & I was past due for a change. Or a rest. Something had to give, & it was me.
Over the years, I have kept in touch with the owners/managers of the store. Living in Dodge, a town of 1,100 people, kinda hard not to. While I wouldn't classify us as "friends", we're definitely more than "acquaintances" but less than "buddies". There isn't a word for what we are. Nothing seems to fit. Whatever we are, we are & always have been on good terms with each other.
Fast forward 8 years. Wilma, in need of some cash, knows that the office girl has just quit {for the 5th time, I might add} & that they are looking for some help again. They always treated me well, paid what they could afford, & were willing to put up with my....um, shall we say "obsessive-compulsive" ways with good humour. They never done me wrong. Here's a chance, says I, to do a solid for a pal? Compadre? Crap! They don't work, either.
Anyhoo, here was my chance to do a favour for someone I liked, whilst padding my bank balance a little as an added benefit.
So, here I go again. Working at the new/old job two days a week. But it's not the same. It's not like it was & there are 2 reasons for that.
1) I am not the person I was 8 years ago. {I think we can all breathe a sigh of relief over that!}
2)I've been given some incredible lee-way regarding which days I want to work, how many hours I want to work on those days, & what I'm gonna do while I'm there. They are being extremely flexible, & willing to work around my other job ~ which is, for the most part, a called-in-at-the-last-minute kinda position. Well, that's what casual mean, right?
The best part? The things that used to pick my ass don't bother me so much anymore. In fact, I'm not really sure what my deal was back then.
The better part? I make the same amount of money at both jobs. Yay for me!
So while I still whinge about money & dental work & not going on trips & trying to afford my little excursions, things are a little better. There's a little less pressure of me & on Puffy. & that's always a good thing.
Cuz there's nothing worse than being Under Pressure!
What? What's that you say?
There's nothing worse than being Under Pressure!
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