Lo and behold, I am finally free from the shackles of the job from hell.
Four weeks ago, I submitted my resignation (with two weeks’ notice) in writing, but my boss insisted I stay and work on my introversion/social anxiety, which was the excuse I had given them for wanting to leave. Then, three and a half weeks later, they decided to fire me “take me up on my resignation” because they realized I was a hopeless case.
Hah! I’ve spent 28 years coping with social anxiety and avoidance issues; how foolish of them to think I would magically become more talkative and gregarious in less than a month.
Still, the news of the release came as a shock and was a bitter pill to swallow. It came as fast and as unexpected as lightning. After they had asked me to work on improving my social skills with my coworkers, things improved somewhat, or so I thought. Coward OCPD boss called me at half past eight last Thursday evening to tell me she was letting me go. She had been expecting bigger results and obviously I hadn’t delivered. Offering little explanation other than she felt it just wasn’t going to work out, she told me not to return the next day to finish the week off or pick up my belongings.
So here I am, unemployed again. Though I’m past the feelings of denial and anger, I’m still recovering from the rejection, which came so abruptly. I never saw it coming this fast. Boss had insisted that if things didn’t work out, she would keep me on board until I found another job. They needed me, she had assured me. On the afternoon of the sudden boot, we had spoken about it again and once more she had reiterated that offer to me. I was counting on that safe cushion. Like a fool I trusted her. When I was ready to walk out that door, the cunning viper sweet-talked me into staying and then, when I least expected it she delivered the backstabbing punch and fired me without notice, claiming that I had been right all along, that it was best they “take me up on my resignation, effective immediately.”
It was a crushing blow. It felt like my self-esteem had been beaten up to a pulp, my sense of stability yanked from under me and thrown into the wind. I’m slowly picking up the pieces, struggling to regain enough self worth, to dig into whatever reserves of hope and strength I’ve got left to get back into the job hunt.
Oh she sure had me on that one. They all had me on that one, they who conspired to get rid of me, they who must be smiling smugly as we speak. But if only they knew what RELIEF I feel to be rid of them as well.
I am a free woman. I’ve made it out of prison. I’ve made it out of hell. I can breathe again, be myself again. And as God is my witness, for as long as I live, I shall let no other job EVER take that freedom away from me again.
Freedom is Mine Again March 31, 2008
Unlucky November 28, 2007
These past couple of days have been distressing. I seem to be running through a streak of bad luck.
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Misfortune #1:
On Saturday I was shopping at Ulta, a beauty supply store similar to Sephora. I carried with me a blue bag, containing my purse, random papers and some new shoes I had just purchased, a notebook where I had written a very thorough list of beauty products to look for, and a shopping basket. I had such difficulty carrying everything in my hands while conducting my search that I put down my bag and my basket next to me. I was in the store for at least an hour when two short Hispanic men started walking up and down the aisles around me. I didn’t pay too much attention to them; I thought they were looking for makeup for their wives.
Unsuspectingly, I stepped away from my bag, which was sitting in the corner of the aisle with my basket. By the time I turned around to grab my stuff, probably a minute later, my bag was gone. Only the basket remained.
Instantly I knew. I had no doubt in my mind that they had taken it. Those two men who looked so out of place in the makeup section of a beauty store, it had to be them. Frantically I looked around. My eyes quickly landed on the store window where I could see the two ladrones walking away with MY bag. As if it were theirs. Fucking assholes.
Immediately I stormed out of the store, huffing and puffing, red as a tomato, and determined to get my bag back. I ran after them; they must have been no more than a hundred meters away. Like a quiet predator, I made sure they didn’t hear me approaching from behind. Much to their astonishment, I forcefully ripped the bag away out of the thief’s clutch. And then I stared the man down in the eye and firmly said in a loud voice: “THIS is MY bag you took!”
The two men were so stunned that they just stood there in silence with wide open eyes. Without another word, I decisively swung the other way and walked back to the store muttering curses under my breath. It was a long while before I stopped shaking like a leaf as waves of overwhelming fear, indignation, and guilt were swirling through me.
Though I was upset at what those men did, I also blamed myself for what happened. If I had been more careful, none of this would have happened. But never again. Never again will I lose control of the situation as I did. From now on I am not going to trust anyone and I’m going to guard my belongings as if they were my very last possessions on Earth.
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Misfortune #2
On Monday I lost my driver’s license in a thrift store. My purse, which is really a wallet with a purse string attached to it, accidentally opened on its own and my license slipped out without my noticing it. I was filled with panic when I realized it wasn’t there anymore. I thought, oh no, this can’t be happening again.
I looked, looked, and looked; I retraced every single one of my steps, but my license was nowhere to be found. I was on the verge of tears when I heard a very faint voice on the speakerphone butchering my last name. Joy! Relief! For once I didn’t care how they pronounced my name. My license was safe! I ran to the office and one of the employers handed it to me. If I wasn’t trying so hard to contain my emotions in public, I would have thrown my arms at her in jubilant gratitude. Saved once again!
Never again am I putting important items in those wallet pockets. They now go in the zippered section. You can never be too safe.
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Misfortune #3:
Today (actually it happened yesterday, but I only found out about it today), my paycheck bounced (the horror!!!) and threw my bank account in severe overdraft (just kill me already!). Current balance: minus $450 after the bank made its kill off those exorbitant fees they wasted not a second to hit me with. And as icing on the cake, autopay payments are processing AS WE SPEAK. I’m crossing my fingers and biting my nails that I won’t charged any more return fees. (Lord have mercy on me.)
The rage, oh, the rage. Again, if I wasn’t so fiercely adamant on losing control of myself in public, I would have allowed myself to break into tears at work and lash out at the culprit of this mess on the telephone. There is nothing that drives me to the edge more than losing control of my finances. I’d rather lose my driver’s license a hundred times, I’d rather lose my temper and make a fool out of myself than lose control of my money.
None of this is my fault, so I shouldn’t blame myself (but I do because that’s what I do, get mad at myself every time something goes wrong). Yes, I should have had $500 sitting in my checking account for safety, but as a lowly secretary, I really don’t make that kind of money. If I were smarter, more competent, more confident, not to mention more sociable, I’d be working for a better company.
But no, I work for the WORST temp agency ever. They pay me late; they make mistakes; they lie to me; they screw me over; they make my life a living hell; but this, this has got to be the ultimate fuck up this one-person run company has ever done to me. Oh, I can’t wait for the end of my contract at the end of December. No more paycheck woes -though possibly no paychecks for a while either, ugh. Maybe one fine day, when the stars are aligned properly, I’ll get a job that pays me on time without any fuss. Is it too much to ask for?
Anyway, the temp lady made up excuses (man, she’s good at that) and then advised me to ask the bank to resubmit the check for payment. So I went to the bank and they told me I had to wait for the returned check in the mail before they could reprocess it. Only trouble is I may not receive it till next week. Dang!
Fortunately, a good samaritan so dear to my heart, was kind enough to lend me some money today. With the late paycheck that was supposed to arrive last Friday, but won’t arrive till tomorrow (another fine example of the temp agency’s incompetence), I should be able to cover the big gaping hole in my account and pay for the urgent bills that all seem to be due in the next few days. As long as I deposit everything together, that is. Bank can’t charge me an overdraft fee again if I’m already in the negative, but they can if I put in some money and it’s enough to put me back in the positive yet not enough to cover any incoming payments.
Though the situation will get resolved sooner or later, I doubt I’ll sleep in peace until it is. I never thought I’d live to see the day when my balance would be three digits in the hole. If only this were just a nightmare I’d wake up from tomorrow… sigh.
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Bedtime prayer of the day:
Dear God, please, God, I’m sorry I said you didn’t exist, but will you please forgive me for all the bad I’ve done and stop throwing misfortunes at me? I promise to be good (at least through the end of the year).
Taming the Anger Within October 3, 2007
Today is one of those beware-I-bite days. I feel uncomfortably touchy and edgy. At the slightest poke I could explode.
It takes considerable self-restraint not to give into the impulses to attack. There is so much tension in my limbs. I feel like a wild animal in captivity.
Let me out, says the anger. You’ll get me in trouble, I reply.
To be safe I keep my distance from people. I don’t have to work hard at that; I give off a cold and distant vibe without trying.
When I was still with my ex, I would lash out at him. He was an easy target; he seldom fought back. I’d even take it out on my cats, poor creatures. Such a terrible woman I am, preying upon the weak and the innocent. I’m so ashamed.
I’m trying to control myself. My mom now lives with me; she keeps an eye on me. I can’t bully her because she’s a tough one and won’t have anyone mess with her. I feel intimidated. I also don’t want her to discover my dark side; it’s best to keep it a secret.
And so in silence I must struggle. Anger is raging within, but I can’t let it bubble to the surface lest I be found out.
FAQ #1: Comments December 9, 2007
Tags: Blogging, comments, criticism, Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder
Frequently Asked Question #1:
Q. Are you ever going to open comments?
A. Probably not, unless by some kind of miracle I am cured of my comment phobia and whatever is causing it. Believe it or not, but just the thought of the comment option being open keeps me up at night.
A more appropriate question would be why I am scared of comments.
These things bring about a whole array of unhealthy emotions I just don’t want to deal with (life is already stressful enough as it is, thank you), emotions like:
All in all, I think that allowing comments on my blog causes a lot more stress in my life than I can handle.