Oooh, I’m really liking the new WordPress interface. It looks so inviting that blogging suddenly seems like the thing to do.
It’s been a week since I was given the axe at work. The job search has been fruitless thus far, but then I can’t say I’ve been very motivated to look too hard. My outlook on life has been pitifully grim lately. I’m feeling pretty hopeless.
I feel handicapped by my social anxiety and depression. Every administrative job ad that I read calls for an enthusiastic self-starter, an outgoing, friendly team-player… They want someone with a positive, can-do attitude, excellent verbal communication skills, a pleasant phone demeanor, stellar customer service skills and all the attributes of the ideal administrative assistant that I just don’t have, can’t have, will never have.
Administrative support is not the right career for me. I’m not cut out for it. No one wants to hire a quiet, self-effacing assistant who sees the glass as half-empty and likes to be left in her own little world.
The truth is that I like to work on my own, in my own space. I don’t want to have to deal with clients, either on the phone or in person. I want to spend as little time with my coworkers as possible. I want to do something that is so straightforward and repetitive that I can just get lost in it and not see the time go by. I want to go to work to pay the bills and nothing more.
I chose administrative support as a career because I didn’t know what else to do at the time. When I got into it I had no real professional experience whatsoever; my college major was useless; I didn’t have any money for specialized training; and I was neither motivated nor smart enough to seek out more demanding jobs. Being a secretary seemed like the easiest way to join the white-collar workforce and so I went for it.
Although I hated the people interaction aspect of it, I was fortunate enough that the jobs I landed involved little interpersonal involvement. Now that I’m unemployed and looking again, however, I’m realizing just how hard it is going to be for me to find another position where I will be left in my little corner in peace.
I’ve been trying to think of other career options for someone as socially anxious as I am that don’t involve additional training or education. I was breaking into the payroll and accounting fields in my most recent job, but it seems that if you’re not an actual accountant, you’re pretty much stuck doing customer service stuff, especially when you’re first starting out. I’ve been considering legal file clerk or records management positions instead. Though some human interaction is required, at least these jobs wouldn’t have me answer phones or constantly help people. The problem I’ve been running into is that most companies seem to be looking for someone with some experience in the field and I don’t have any.
I’ve thought about other career paths like medical coding, which apparently doesn’t involve ANY kind of client interaction, but it seems like it might be way over my head with all the complicated medical jargon and my laughable incapacity to remember much of anything.
So at this point it doesn’t look like I’m going to be employed any time soon. I fear I will have to go back to the blue-collar workforce and stay there indefinitely. Maybe that’s what I’m cut out to do, clean other people’s toilets. It’s easy enough and I don’t have to talk to anyone while I’m scrubbing away.
Hopeless Job Search April 4, 2008
Goodbye, Good Old Job January 4, 2008
Today has been emotional. It was my last day on the job. I worked there for over 3 years and although I hated it almost the whole time, I miss it now – and it hasn’t even been 6 hours since I locked my little office for the very last time.
I’m going to miss my office, my own private space. I’m going to miss spending hours on the computer, on the internet specifically, checking up on my bank accounts and my credit card balances, hitting the reload button every five minutes to see if any new emails have come, reading useless, random stuff… I’m going to miss the independence, doing my own thing, working with little guidance, having the office to myself most of the time. I’m going to miss my boss. He was by far the BEST boss ever and I know I am NEVER going to be lucky to get another boss as great as he was.
Oh, I really had it good at my old job. I was really comfortable with what I was doing. I felt like I was in my element – on my own mostly, no pressure, few deadlines, just taking it easy. Every week I had a day off, Mondays usually. For the amount of work I did, the pay was decent. Save for the long, oppressive bouts of boredom, which drove me insane (and sometimes even triggered suicidal impulses), it was pretty much paradise at work.
Now it’s all over and I can’t believe I took it all for granted. I can’t believe I whined so much about how bored and miserable I was with it. On Tuesday I’m starting another job, a temp-to-perm one this time, with an American company (I was blessed to have worked at a European organization), and I can already see how drastically different things are going to be. I’ll have to be at work every single day, 1 1/2 hours earlier and ON TIME, for longer hours, and I will actually be BUSY, running around doing all kinds of things, I imagine, rather than quietly, comfortably sitting at my computer all day long waiting for time to pass. I can say goodbye to dallying around on the internet or on the phone, sneaking out of work early to go to the movies, or enjoying a siesta while the boss is away. I will finally know the meaning of work as those bloody workaholic Americans know it. (Will somebody, something, a hate mail, a snow storm, a non-functioning traffic light, an accidental lethal combination of vitamins and allergy pills pleeeeeease kill me before Tuesday?)
I’m dreadfully scared. And sad, too. I don’t like change. I want my good old job back. I need security, familiarity. I’m going to this new job, which I really don’t know much about, and I’m so terrified at the prospect of being around new people, doing new, challenging things, and having no place there to hide or find comfort. At the new job I will have to deal with people, something which dead people are probably better at than I am. The new boss will most likely not be as cool, laid-back, patient, and understanding as my old one. Sooner or later everyone will realize they made a big booboo in picking me.
I don’t know why they did that. What a grave mistake. Did I do that well on the phone interview yesterday that they didn’t think anyone else fared better than I had? I find that impossible to believe. I shouldn’t have taken that Xanax one hour before the interview. I shouldn’t have been that relaxed, that friendly, that unusually verbally articulate. Who the hell was speaking on the phone? For Christ’s sake, I am a socially anxious, stuck up, awkward, reticent wallflower. I am not cut out to be an executive assistant in a customer-service oriented environment. I belong in a hole. This cannot be real.
I shouldn’t have prepared interview questions and answers in advance and consulted them as I spoke to the interviewer. I shouldn’t have had my resume, my current job description, and everything relevant to my current position all laid out in front of me either. It’s all a cheat. A fraud. A big scam. A HUGE mistake. And it will all blow up sooner or later.
I should have failed; that’s what I am used to. That’s what I do best. Success is so foreign to me. I’m a failure. Where did this sudden, unexpected burst of success come from? What did I do to deserve it? I expected to go days, weeks without a job. This is so terrifyingly bizarre that I would have something lined up so soon.
If I somehow convince myself not to listen to the voices that are telling me as we speak not to show up at my new job on Tuesday, I am certain the people there will quickly realize I’m not the right person for the job. I’m ready for it, crossing my fingers for it, but what a humiliation it will be to show up there and disappoint like that. I so hate disappointing people; it disappoints me tenfold.
I wish I could turn back time and make sure this never happened. All I’d like to do right now, other than bawl my eyes out in panic, is to crawl into a tree hole and hide there for milleniums until this has all passed and my memory, and the memories of all the people involved, have been wiped clean of every trace of this unfortunate occurrence.
Am I out of my mind for not congratulating myself at having been accepted for a job, for not being thrilled at the idea of getting a paycheck soon, for wishing I had failed? How can one possibly be in a celebratory mood under the circumstances? I feel like the end of the world has come and Judgment Day will be here on Tuesday and I will fail and I will be punished and I will go to hell and I … could go on and on in that doomsday trajectory because I don’t know what else to do so I’ll just shut up and pray for the worst…
Aging November 30, 2007
Every year I look forward to my birthday. Every year except this one.
When I was 19 years old, 28 seemed so ancient. Yet here I am now, just two days away from it. I can’t believe it’s knocking on my door already. I can’t believe I’m about to officially enter the late 20s demographic.
The degenerative process has already started for me. With my one grey hair, my brittle, peeling skin, and my pronounced laugh lines, which make me regret ever smiling, I definitely can’t pass for a 25-year old anymore. Even with the short cutsie haircut I got yesterday I still look prematurely old from up close.
To think that the aging wheel is only going to go downhill faster from here onwards … it’s really quite depressing. No wonder models, dancers, and actresses have trouble dealing with it. No wonder they turn to anti-wrinkles creams, laser treatment, and botox. They don’t want to lose their face, which is not just their product and their livehood, but their identity as well.
Sooner or later I may have to remove or cover up all the mirrors in my home. I don’t want to see the growing damage. I’m just too scared. I really don’t have anything to offer to the world except my face (or what’s left of it). Once that’s totally gone, you might as well toss me to the garbage with the old banana peels.
I give myself five years tops until my youth is fully obsolete and no man my age (with decent taste) will look at me without screaming “old!”
Once you’re old, the quest for beauty is futile. You can’t beat nature. You have no choice but to let the decay run its course. When I get to that point, I don’t know what I’ll do besides going bonkers. Being unable to do anything to attain physical perfection will surely kill me.
I guess if I had one birthday wish this year and every other year after this one, it would be to never see myself old.
Negativity and Cynicism November 14, 2007
I’m trying to crack my skull open to write something positive, but I can’t do it. I honestly cannot come up with a single positive thing to say. It is just impossible.
But then what do you expect from a jaded cynic like me? You might as well ask for the moon here. Seriously.
I’ve given up on dreams, on hope, on life, and on anything that I might have once thought was worth pursuing. I’ve stopped caring, stopped believing. What’s the point? The world is an evil place. We’re all doomed to die sooner or later … etc.
People say we (should) live to enjoy life. How can we think of enjoying ourselves when there is so much suffering in the world? We are all selfish people. We don’t dare admit it, but that’s the goddamn truth. We, human beings, are selfish creatures.
How can I say anything positive about humanity or the world we live in when there really isn’t anything truly and absolutely positive about them? Every which way you look at it, the good (whatever’s left of it) will always be overshadowed by the bad and the ugly.
