Tuesday – Wow, I Guess I Fired Myself
Oct. 19th, 2010 02:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
.
.
All day Friday, I waited for Mike to tell my not to come in on Monday. The man never spoke a word to me. Never acted like anything was up. For some reason, he never liked speaking to me. I specifically told The Owner in the letter that I wrote to him that I would stick around until Mike let me go. Which he didn’t. He just hired someone else, and acted all surprised when I walked in the office on Monday. What a dolt.*
On the upside, I did get to see my replacement – about half my age, half a foot taller, and slender, and pretty. I thought she had too much product in her hair, making it look like it would be sticky and gloppy to touch, but what do I know? Maybe that’s just her style.
“I thought that was your letter of resignation” the Owner said to me in a whisper.
“It was a letter telling you I knew what was going on, that Mike was interviewing for my replacement, and that I would stick around until he said he didn’t need me anymore,” I reminded him. I guess he didn’t read it that well.
“Well, Mike hired someone else…”
“That’s fine,” I said with a smile. I do appreciate humor, even when it is my own life playing out as a joke. “I waited all day Friday for Mike to say something, and he never did. Let me get the rest of my things.”
“I’ll pay you through the end of the month,” the owner said. That would be another 2 weeks. I guess I’m on vacation. Cool.
I thanked him. I went over some of the things that are still in the works, and let them know the log in to my computer. You would think Mike would have asked me that on Friday, but he is not the sharpest tool in the shed. He’s just a tool, period. (oops, I’m getting close to the tacky line). I gathered the last few items I wanted – my coffee cup, my wall calendar, a few items from the kitchen, and went home. I called Jeff on the way there; he swore a little. I was laughing.
I applied for a few jobs when I got home. I cleaned up the house a bit. This is a working vacation, after all. I’ve got projects to tackle while I’m out of a job and goals to meet. I’d like to clear the junk out of that back bedroom, for one. I went shopping for interview clothes (when interviewing for a job, for some reason you are not allowed to look like you really need one).
I have other things I need to get to work on, such as finishing that book Jeff bought to help me find my calling and stop taking jobs that I hate, for money that is pathetic and working with people who I despise. This last gig was not as bad as working for Big Death (I never stayed until 9 PM to finish what I was doing, for example, and I didn’t have to put up with a coworker who despised me to the point that the air dropped 10 degrees when she stepped into my cubicle), but it wasn’t fulfilling, either financially or emotionally.
I don’t know why Mike hated me (besides him being a sexist pig and me being smarter than him, which got under his thin ex-Marine-and-former-New-York-Cop male-chauvinist-pig skin). I don’t know why Dixie at Big Death hated me, either. I’ve found that people either love me or hate me, and have a hard time being neutral toward me. Jeff says I have a strong personality, and that it can rub people the wrong way. Strong as it may be, I don’t mock people or put them down; I apologize when I see I’ve stepped on someone’s toes; I try to be helpful. I guess there are always going to be people who don’t care for a person, no matter who they are. Someone out there finds the Dali Lama annoying. Someone in the world at some time found Mother Theresa to be insufferable. That’s life.
There must be some way to find a place where people adore me (I’ve been adored before, and I liked how it felt). If I can’t find out, I have to figure out how to create one. Time to put on my thinking cap and get busy.
Now, about that back bedroom. Maybe I should have a garage sale next week.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
* I was going to go with another 4 letter word that starts with a “d” but then remembered that I try to keep this journal family friendly. I don’t know why; I just do. In real life, I can swear with the best of them. Spoken words evaporate into the air and can be forgotten; printed words leave a mark (literally). I guess typing a swearword, even one I can say quite often and willingly, just seems tacky.
.
.
All day Friday, I waited for Mike to tell my not to come in on Monday. The man never spoke a word to me. Never acted like anything was up. For some reason, he never liked speaking to me. I specifically told The Owner in the letter that I wrote to him that I would stick around until Mike let me go. Which he didn’t. He just hired someone else, and acted all surprised when I walked in the office on Monday. What a dolt.*
On the upside, I did get to see my replacement – about half my age, half a foot taller, and slender, and pretty. I thought she had too much product in her hair, making it look like it would be sticky and gloppy to touch, but what do I know? Maybe that’s just her style.
“I thought that was your letter of resignation” the Owner said to me in a whisper.
“It was a letter telling you I knew what was going on, that Mike was interviewing for my replacement, and that I would stick around until he said he didn’t need me anymore,” I reminded him. I guess he didn’t read it that well.
“Well, Mike hired someone else…”
“That’s fine,” I said with a smile. I do appreciate humor, even when it is my own life playing out as a joke. “I waited all day Friday for Mike to say something, and he never did. Let me get the rest of my things.”
“I’ll pay you through the end of the month,” the owner said. That would be another 2 weeks. I guess I’m on vacation. Cool.
I thanked him. I went over some of the things that are still in the works, and let them know the log in to my computer. You would think Mike would have asked me that on Friday, but he is not the sharpest tool in the shed. He’s just a tool, period. (oops, I’m getting close to the tacky line). I gathered the last few items I wanted – my coffee cup, my wall calendar, a few items from the kitchen, and went home. I called Jeff on the way there; he swore a little. I was laughing.
I applied for a few jobs when I got home. I cleaned up the house a bit. This is a working vacation, after all. I’ve got projects to tackle while I’m out of a job and goals to meet. I’d like to clear the junk out of that back bedroom, for one. I went shopping for interview clothes (when interviewing for a job, for some reason you are not allowed to look like you really need one).
I have other things I need to get to work on, such as finishing that book Jeff bought to help me find my calling and stop taking jobs that I hate, for money that is pathetic and working with people who I despise. This last gig was not as bad as working for Big Death (I never stayed until 9 PM to finish what I was doing, for example, and I didn’t have to put up with a coworker who despised me to the point that the air dropped 10 degrees when she stepped into my cubicle), but it wasn’t fulfilling, either financially or emotionally.
I don’t know why Mike hated me (besides him being a sexist pig and me being smarter than him, which got under his thin ex-Marine-and-former-New-York-Cop male-chauvinist-pig skin). I don’t know why Dixie at Big Death hated me, either. I’ve found that people either love me or hate me, and have a hard time being neutral toward me. Jeff says I have a strong personality, and that it can rub people the wrong way. Strong as it may be, I don’t mock people or put them down; I apologize when I see I’ve stepped on someone’s toes; I try to be helpful. I guess there are always going to be people who don’t care for a person, no matter who they are. Someone out there finds the Dali Lama annoying. Someone in the world at some time found Mother Theresa to be insufferable. That’s life.
There must be some way to find a place where people adore me (I’ve been adored before, and I liked how it felt). If I can’t find out, I have to figure out how to create one. Time to put on my thinking cap and get busy.
Now, about that back bedroom. Maybe I should have a garage sale next week.
* I was going to go with another 4 letter word that starts with a “d” but then remembered that I try to keep this journal family friendly. I don’t know why; I just do. In real life, I can swear with the best of them. Spoken words evaporate into the air and can be forgotten; printed words leave a mark (literally). I guess typing a swearword, even one I can say quite often and willingly, just seems tacky.
