I've been working the Up-and-Down shift--that means I've been closing the store and then turning around and opening it the next day. When that happens, I have just enough time to get about 6 hours sleep and about 4 hours, 2 at the end and 2 at the beginning, to do things not-work related.
Needless to say, this has effected my blogging over the last couple of days.
As of the end of the month, I will no longer be selling lingerie. I tendered my resignation last friday.
My boss got weepy and whiny, took it all personal. Tried to talk me out of it and gave me the "we need you," whine.
I don't care. I need my time to write more than I need a crappy mall job with stale air, bad food, and worse customers.
She doesn't really need me at the store anyway. But I will acknowledge that she's a rather needy person, and in a sense, my leaving is like a family member departing.
I don't like being in the position in a workplace where I am someone's extended family. Whenever I've gone for interviews, and the interviewer has said "oh, we're just like family here," my skin crawls and I want to get as far away from that job as possible.
My job is my job. My family is my family (or not). They are not the same.
My friends are my friends and my work associates are my work associates. Sometimes we can be friends, but I'm not thrilled about the idea of having the two so emeshed that it is seamless. Some people like that sort of set-up, but I'm rabidly uncomfortable with it.
My space is my space. I choose to let people into it. And I am very picky who I let into it. I have my reasons. I have my secrets and my privacy to protect.
It doesn't mean I'm unfriendly...definitely not! But it doesn't mean that every person I work with is my bestest buddy and closest pal.
And the reason for that is, when I decide to leave, I don't want crying, whining, recriminations, passive aggressive behavior meant to make me stay, a false sense of indispensibility meant to drag me down for the rest of my life by keeping me in a sub-standard, nothing-job.
Leave me alone. Let me be. Let me do what's best for myself. Let me do well in life without needing to help you hold up your end in a flagging corporation that devalues its employees at every step.
I am not your life-coach, your work coach, or anything coach.
The next five weeks will be hell.
Needless to say, this has effected my blogging over the last couple of days.
As of the end of the month, I will no longer be selling lingerie. I tendered my resignation last friday.
My boss got weepy and whiny, took it all personal. Tried to talk me out of it and gave me the "we need you," whine.
I don't care. I need my time to write more than I need a crappy mall job with stale air, bad food, and worse customers.
She doesn't really need me at the store anyway. But I will acknowledge that she's a rather needy person, and in a sense, my leaving is like a family member departing.
I don't like being in the position in a workplace where I am someone's extended family. Whenever I've gone for interviews, and the interviewer has said "oh, we're just like family here," my skin crawls and I want to get as far away from that job as possible.
My job is my job. My family is my family (or not). They are not the same.
My friends are my friends and my work associates are my work associates. Sometimes we can be friends, but I'm not thrilled about the idea of having the two so emeshed that it is seamless. Some people like that sort of set-up, but I'm rabidly uncomfortable with it.
My space is my space. I choose to let people into it. And I am very picky who I let into it. I have my reasons. I have my secrets and my privacy to protect.
It doesn't mean I'm unfriendly...definitely not! But it doesn't mean that every person I work with is my bestest buddy and closest pal.
And the reason for that is, when I decide to leave, I don't want crying, whining, recriminations, passive aggressive behavior meant to make me stay, a false sense of indispensibility meant to drag me down for the rest of my life by keeping me in a sub-standard, nothing-job.
Leave me alone. Let me be. Let me do what's best for myself. Let me do well in life without needing to help you hold up your end in a flagging corporation that devalues its employees at every step.
I am not your life-coach, your work coach, or anything coach.
The next five weeks will be hell.
posted by Tish Grier at 6:18 PM
5 Comments:
I think that is one of the things about the work environment people are currently cultivating (or forcing, perhaps). Job is job, it's not the whole of my life. I want and NEED a life outside of work, and I would even if I found work I truly loved and enriched me every minute I did it. To my mind, it just strikes me as a healthy way to live, especially when I look at people who work 50+ hours a week and regularly seem drained.
-Soli
I agree, and good luck with the next 5 weeks.
I, too, agree with Soli, especially the words "Job is job, it's not the whole of my life." My profession (education) has so many obligations outside of my contract: sports events, chaperoning dances and attending proms, weekend curriuculm writing days, field trips (some five days long), and so many others that I can't list them all right now.
I once quit teaching for two years to work in retail just so I could write afterhours, rather than do more "school stuff".
Now that I'm back in teaching, I sometimes feel guilty for the many times I set boundries to non-contractual commitments. Some of my colleagues have been known to criticize me for not "giving" enough of my free time to the school". Maybe I'm not as good of a teacher as them. However, I know myself well enough to know that if I were with my students 24-7 without a life outside of the classroom, I would eventually become more neurotic than I already am.
Balance is the key. My life outside of school keeps me sane. I love your words, Tish:
"My space is my space. I choose to let people into it. And I am very picky who I let in..."
If I have a choice on a Friday night on whether to chaperone a school dance or spend the evening with my friends or writing , you can rest assured I'm NOT at the school dance. If there's not a clear division between what I do for a living and what I do in my free time, I lose a bit of my soul.
So, kudos to you for setting boundries, Tish. It's so very, very healthy. Anytime someone quits a job to write more, I applaud. I'm leaning in that direction (once again), too.
http://shamash.typepad.com
I have some wonderful friends who are among those lucky folk whose jobs are very creative and nurture many aspects of their lives.
But those jobs weren't found in the local paper or on Monster. The fact of the matter is, for most of us, most jobs are *just* jobs, and it's improper for a society to foist the idea on us that all jobs are of the type that will grant fulfillment.
Even when your job is great, though, it doesn't have to be everything. Another friend, who is an AIDS researcher, finds her job quite fulfilling. It isn't everything though. She has several other interests that have *nothing* to do directly with science or the scientific community.
And, let's face it, alot of what we do to make a buck has very little in the way of spiritual connected to it. It has always been my belief that humans have a spiritual side, so, then, how can a job be everything?
I think it is an accomplishment when we can find a job that is in harmony with who we are--not that it is everything we are. I think that's what I'm trying to do. Overall, though, if we are interesting people, our identities should consist of more than just job or kids or other single identifier.
I always wonder what happens to people who are so identified with their jobs once the job is over. It's got to be a bit like "empty nest syndrome."
I don't think that will be my problem though...or any of yours :-)
It's nice to hear someone say that. I feel like there are many people I can't say those sort of things to, or if I do I feel guilty, or hard and bitchy.
But, quite frankly, I value my friends. A lot. And someone I jsut met, or who I barely know, is not a friend. They are an acquaintence. That does not mean that they might not become a friend. But friendship means more to me than sharing a space or both liking hot dogs, or whatever.
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