ATTENTION, BITCHES!!!
I would have written sooner, but I wanted to make sure that certain things were in place before I updated you all on the latest shitfest.
This shitfest, at least, has a happy ending.
Having received no satisfaction from my employer's counselling firm, I made an appointment to see my family physician. I left her office last Wednesday morning with a sick note in my hand, indicating that I should have two weeks stress leave, starting immediately.
I went back to the office, where Head Office Boss Lady was busy trying to pull the office together in the absence of Teeth (on holidays), Mulan (also on holidays) and Eeyore (off with the flu). This left one other biller in the entire office who could help me with my stuff, in addition to HOBL.
When I presented the sick note to her, she said to me, "I can't actually accept this."
I looked at her. "You're actually going to," I said.
Because, people, at that point, one of two things were going to happen: either she was going to take the note and continue forward with whatever company policy-driven steps were available, or I was tendering my resignation immediately. I was done. Done like dinner. Finito. Caput. In the immortal words of The Unband in their song, "Pink Slip", I was gonna tell 'em all to fuck off.
In the end, we went with the former option, and I was home by 1:00 that afternoon. I haven't been back since. The counsellors have called and talked about arranging something called a Work Assist program, but that is seriously not going to happen.
Because in the meantime, I have been putting my considerable time and energy into finding other work. I am working on getting my tarot business up and going, which has been very exciting and pure delight.
In addition, I have managed to score some part-time administrative work for a lawyer that I know. She needs an assistant to take care of the grunt work so that she can get down to some actual lawyer-ing. (Hence the "hammer"--i.e. the gavel.) I am quite excited about this, as it will be quite different from the absolute mindlessness of my previous employment, and this lawyer is an absolute honey badger in court. I'm hoping to be able to watch that happen sometime.
I will probably never have to set foot in that flaming pit of hell--or see Teeth and her gleaming incisors--ever again. My only regret in all this is that I will not have the opportunity to shit on her scanner and fuck up her chair.
So while I will in the short term have a reduced income, I cannot express to you the sense of weightlessness I already feel. Everyday, I do a little something to get my tarot business going. I have managed to score a table at a great festival in my area in September. I will soon have a spanky new website. I am talking to local restaurants about reading in their establishments on Friday nights. And getting it all going is FUN.
I am made breathless by the speed with which all of this has happened. A week ago today, I was staring at my computer screen and fighting an overwhelmng sense of futility. Today, I am in another place entirely, and it is fantastic.
So follow your bliss, bitches. Life's too short not to.
I would have written sooner, but I wanted to make sure that certain things were in place before I updated you all on the latest shitfest.
This shitfest, at least, has a happy ending.
Having received no satisfaction from my employer's counselling firm, I made an appointment to see my family physician. I left her office last Wednesday morning with a sick note in my hand, indicating that I should have two weeks stress leave, starting immediately.
I went back to the office, where Head Office Boss Lady was busy trying to pull the office together in the absence of Teeth (on holidays), Mulan (also on holidays) and Eeyore (off with the flu). This left one other biller in the entire office who could help me with my stuff, in addition to HOBL.
When I presented the sick note to her, she said to me, "I can't actually accept this."
I looked at her. "You're actually going to," I said.
Because, people, at that point, one of two things were going to happen: either she was going to take the note and continue forward with whatever company policy-driven steps were available, or I was tendering my resignation immediately. I was done. Done like dinner. Finito. Caput. In the immortal words of The Unband in their song, "Pink Slip", I was gonna tell 'em all to fuck off.
In the end, we went with the former option, and I was home by 1:00 that afternoon. I haven't been back since. The counsellors have called and talked about arranging something called a Work Assist program, but that is seriously not going to happen.
Because in the meantime, I have been putting my considerable time and energy into finding other work. I am working on getting my tarot business up and going, which has been very exciting and pure delight.
In addition, I have managed to score some part-time administrative work for a lawyer that I know. She needs an assistant to take care of the grunt work so that she can get down to some actual lawyer-ing. (Hence the "hammer"--i.e. the gavel.) I am quite excited about this, as it will be quite different from the absolute mindlessness of my previous employment, and this lawyer is an absolute honey badger in court. I'm hoping to be able to watch that happen sometime.
I will probably never have to set foot in that flaming pit of hell--or see Teeth and her gleaming incisors--ever again. My only regret in all this is that I will not have the opportunity to shit on her scanner and fuck up her chair.
So while I will in the short term have a reduced income, I cannot express to you the sense of weightlessness I already feel. Everyday, I do a little something to get my tarot business going. I have managed to score a table at a great festival in my area in September. I will soon have a spanky new website. I am talking to local restaurants about reading in their establishments on Friday nights. And getting it all going is FUN.
I am made breathless by the speed with which all of this has happened. A week ago today, I was staring at my computer screen and fighting an overwhelmng sense of futility. Today, I am in another place entirely, and it is fantastic.
So follow your bliss, bitches. Life's too short not to.
9 comments:
So glad to see you following your bliss...but I will miss the blogging.
Amen sister friend. Follow that bliss like an ass sniffing dog follows a chicken farmer.
I am glad you are out of there, even if it does impact the blog rants. Your health is more important than a good rant. Plus, who knows who/what you'll meet with the tarot readings? Best wishes with that and all.
Teeth and her ilk were definitely a ripe source, but let's not forget the name of the blog, people: Doucebaggery Abounds. It's everywhere!
And I have LOTS of tarot stories to tell that would make you howl. I'll try to get to them soon.
Excellent news! When it's the right time, things happen!
Strike off those chains, sister! Grab your bliss and wrestle it to the ground!
So happy for you, though I will miss the stories too. You will most likely meet even bigger freaks, between the lawyers and the tarot business, but for your sake I hope not-!
Kudos!
Like I thought. Getting out of that hell hole has drastically impacted the blogging. Happy for you, sad for the blog.
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