Sometimes, in an attempt to vent my frustrations about my job, I write about it. Here are some of the things I've written. All of these were written at various times since I got this job in October. I have included titles to separate the topics, since I no longer remember the dates.
Please note, I am very grateful for my job. It provides me with a lot of things and invaluable experience, I am sure.
(More than) Slightly Underwhelmed My first day on the job, the girl I was replacing was in charge of training me. We went through everything before lunch. Then, we just sat and talked for the rest of the day. I wondered what she wasn’t telling me. This could not be everything I do. She told me, though, that this office tended to “underwhelm” people at first, so I figured things would pick up after a while.
Since it was only two weeks before a big event, I mainly sat back and watched everyone else work. I mean, I did some things. I stuffed bags with pom-poms one day, and made nametags one day, and made a poster one day. I also became comfortable with answering the phone after a while and eventually stopped putting people on hold after every question in order to find out the answer. However, for the greater part of the day, I sat and surfed the internet, trying to mostly visit news and educational sites, so that I could at least sort of appear to be working.
Parking Garage Woes I always thought parking garages were cool. I mean, they conserve space, they provide shelter from the elements, they are fun to drive around in. The pros are clearly numerous. However, I have come to abhor parking garages. Several times, I have lost my car in the maze that is the garage under my building. I literally had to write out directions on my hand one day to remember how to get back to my little honda civic: 5th floor, follow the arrows, down, to the right.
The first time I lost my car I thought I had parked on the 5th floor. I went to where I thought my car should be, and it was not there. I went back up to the stairs, went down a level, because I usually park on 4, and looked there. It was not there either. Then, being the rational person I am, decided to wind my way up until I got to the top level. Then, I would wind my way back down until I found my car. As I was winding, trying to look as if I knew what I was doing, a lady pulled up to me.
"You look lost," she said, confirming my suspicions.
"I seem to have lost my car." I tried to laugh it off, as if this sort of thing happened to everyone many times a week.
"Do you want me to drive you around til you find it? I'm not a creepy person. My name is Angel and I'm from (some department I don't remember now). I have lost my car so many times. It's really not a problem for me to drive you around."
I took her up on her offer and we drove all the way down to the first level and then back up to the fifth before finding my car right where I thought I had looked the first time.
That's when I realized the parking garage is a maze and I began writing directions out on my hand. Despite the directions, I still managed to lose my car two other times. Now I try to get a spot outside and suffer through the rain. A woman this week tried to convince me to park in the garage to go to the gym, "So you don't have to go through the elements." I'd rather have frizzy hair.
Soul-Sucking Excel Today, like on many days, I feel as if Excel is sucking my soul out through the computer screen. In my head, I picture black circles under my bloodshot and glazed-over eyes, my face growing grey and thin, as I sit and format spreadsheet after spreadsheet. That’s the thing—I’m not even entering information. I am doing what I am pretty sure monkeys could be trained to do—clicking a series of buttons, typing the same words over and over. I don’t have to think to do it, yet I have to format hundreds of these things. I don’t even know that some of them are needed. I’ve probably formatted at least 30 spreadsheets with only one name. One name. Why do we need a spreadsheet for that? We don’t. We can’t possibly. Yet, I must format it. I think I could push this series of buttons in my sleep. I am pretty sure this is why I feel as though I am wasting away…there is absolutely nothing stimulating about this work. I am only wasting brain cells sitting here.
The thing is, I could get these spreadsheets done pretty quickly if I just stayed on task and stopped writing down my thoughts and looking for jobs and making sure no one has written on my facebook wall and getting coffee and adjusting my chair and sending texts and reading weird news articles on MSN, but here at the office, they think it takes a long time to format these lists. This gives me no motivation whatsoever. Also, after I finish these lists, I only have to look forward to doing nothing again, so I might as well spread it out so maybe they won’t figure out my job is pointless just yet.
Ethics I found this website today that gives rice to people whenever you answer vocabulary questions correctly. I think feeding hungry people is more important than working on spreadsheets, so I’ve been answering as many vocab questions as I can, while quickly going back to the spreadsheets whenever someone walks by. I cannot decide how ethical this act really is. On the one hand, I am wasting company time. On the other hand, this company is wasting its own resources by having me here; if I got finished with the spreadsheets early, I’d just be surfing the web anyway; isn’t feeding the hungry more important than formatting Excel spreadsheets in an attempt at raising money for higher educational opportunities for the well-fed, rich Americans?
Postsecret Enlightenment I saw this secret on Postsecret’s blog: The only good thing about this job is that it made me realize I want to do something meaningful. While I can’t say that the only good thing about this job was that, I can identify with the writer. Had I not gotten this job, I would not have realized how necessary it is for me to do something meaningful. And I realize this job may be meaningful to some people. I just want a job that’s meaningful to me.
Rush Hour=Impatience I think driving twice a day in rush hour traffic has made me a less patient person. I used to not mind driving behind someone that was going under the speed limit. I used to never tell people in the other cars how to drive. Now I do. Every day I call someone an idiot and do that thing that I find the mark of impatience—switch lanes multiple times within minutes in order to find the fastest one. Not that it matters. We all get to our destinations around the same time anyway.
Jeans and a T-Shirt "Dress for the job you want, not the job you have." That's what they say. What if the job I want is to be a writer/missionary/mom/coffeehouse owner? Following the logic in that quote, I should wear jeans and a t-shirt to work. And maybe an apron.
