Saturday, January 13, 2007
My F-Word Post
I was all set to go out in town tonight and help my co-worker Abi celebrate her 30th birthday along with the help of a few other Virgos, some of their significant others ... and a random spattering of other people I wasn't expecting to know.
Instead, the trains aren't running, which makes it a hassle to get from where we live to where we need to go ... so I'll stay at home, yet again, with my sad little blog and my sad little life.
Feeling a bit sorry for myself? Sure. Do I care that I sound ridiculous? No fucking way.
The worst part, once I eventually accepted the fact that I was going to be held hostage in my flat for yet another night, is that I realized the reason I was looking so forward to getting out was, indeed, to basically continue avoiding the fact that other things aren't going so well.
The most recent Canadian injection to the Virgo office, my friend Lena, asked our HR manager if the company would consider sponsoring her to stay in the UK; this happened a few months ago. Just this week, she got some good news that not only did they decide to most likely sponsor her, they decided to promote her as well. Very deserving news for someone who I think is a great PRO.
On Thursday, Helen, one of my co-workers, asked me how I was liking my job, saying she was just curious because, "As someone with a marketing qualification, it just seems like you have to deal with a lot of crappy things ... like a Christmas list, for example."
And because she's someone at the office I feel I can genuinely confide in, I replied with, "Well, you know how Virgo will probably end up sponsoring Lena? I told Matt and of course he suggested that maybe I should ask them the same - but you know something? I really don't think I wanna."
No shit, but Virgo is a great company to work for; everyone who works there is fabulous and the company truly respects its employees. But Helen really hit the nail on the head on everything I'd been thinking since going back to work after Christmas. I just didn't have the nerve (or maybe the balls) to admit it and say it out loud.
But, here it is: I hate my fucking job.
I am much smarter than this and more than overqualified to print mailing labels and organize diary dates. I'm a fucking BBA graduate, for Christ's sakes. I know how to perform regression analysis and interpret statistical data and conduct an environmental industry scan. I can write up a proper business strategy and estimate how much a communications plan will cost to execute and even tell ya how to fire hundreds of people and minimize the fall out.
Please, for the love of God, could someone please tell me ... what the fuck am I doing cataloguing library items and scanning articles from magazines?
I totally agree with Brook's theory about the Man and how we should all be working to live rather than living to work and that the concept of a 'career' is all very conspiratorial, but I gotta tell ya ... I am so fucking bored with my life. My job is such a joke. And I'm all for kicking back and having a nice night in - but only when I can choose to do so, not because I'm restricted to.
What the fuck am I doing? Living in the UK is fucking punching me in the neck, I swear.
It's been a great fucking week.
As it's looking right now, I'll probably be here for another eight or nine months, provided I don't kill myself before then. So seriously ... one of you guys had better come visit and I mean pronto, post haste, vamoose. I'm not fucking kidding.
Nine instances of the f-word. Nice. I'm sure my parents will be very proud.
I was all set to go out in town tonight and help my co-worker Abi celebrate her 30th birthday along with the help of a few other Virgos, some of their significant others ... and a random spattering of other people I wasn't expecting to know.
Instead, the trains aren't running, which makes it a hassle to get from where we live to where we need to go ... so I'll stay at home, yet again, with my sad little blog and my sad little life.
Feeling a bit sorry for myself? Sure. Do I care that I sound ridiculous? No fucking way.
The worst part, once I eventually accepted the fact that I was going to be held hostage in my flat for yet another night, is that I realized the reason I was looking so forward to getting out was, indeed, to basically continue avoiding the fact that other things aren't going so well.
The most recent Canadian injection to the Virgo office, my friend Lena, asked our HR manager if the company would consider sponsoring her to stay in the UK; this happened a few months ago. Just this week, she got some good news that not only did they decide to most likely sponsor her, they decided to promote her as well. Very deserving news for someone who I think is a great PRO.
On Thursday, Helen, one of my co-workers, asked me how I was liking my job, saying she was just curious because, "As someone with a marketing qualification, it just seems like you have to deal with a lot of crappy things ... like a Christmas list, for example."
And because she's someone at the office I feel I can genuinely confide in, I replied with, "Well, you know how Virgo will probably end up sponsoring Lena? I told Matt and of course he suggested that maybe I should ask them the same - but you know something? I really don't think I wanna."
No shit, but Virgo is a great company to work for; everyone who works there is fabulous and the company truly respects its employees. But Helen really hit the nail on the head on everything I'd been thinking since going back to work after Christmas. I just didn't have the nerve (or maybe the balls) to admit it and say it out loud.
But, here it is: I hate my fucking job.I am much smarter than this and more than overqualified to print mailing labels and organize diary dates. I'm a fucking BBA graduate, for Christ's sakes. I know how to perform regression analysis and interpret statistical data and conduct an environmental industry scan. I can write up a proper business strategy and estimate how much a communications plan will cost to execute and even tell ya how to fire hundreds of people and minimize the fall out.
Please, for the love of God, could someone please tell me ... what the fuck am I doing cataloguing library items and scanning articles from magazines?
I totally agree with Brook's theory about the Man and how we should all be working to live rather than living to work and that the concept of a 'career' is all very conspiratorial, but I gotta tell ya ... I am so fucking bored with my life. My job is such a joke. And I'm all for kicking back and having a nice night in - but only when I can choose to do so, not because I'm restricted to.
What the fuck am I doing? Living in the UK is fucking punching me in the neck, I swear.
It's been a great fucking week.
As it's looking right now, I'll probably be here for another eight or nine months, provided I don't kill myself before then. So seriously ... one of you guys had better come visit and I mean pronto, post haste, vamoose. I'm not fucking kidding.
Nine instances of the f-word. Nice. I'm sure my parents will be very proud.
# posted by @anatingor @ Saturday, January 13, 2007 
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Dude, I can feel your pain. Feeling like overeducated in your glorified secretary job? Yeah, been there. Things are looking up a little for me though.
I have an idea - who needs a job? You could just have a baby to get some time off. HAHAHA.
I have an idea - who needs a job? You could just have a baby to get some time off. HAHAHA.
# posted by 
: Tuesday, January 16, 2007
: Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Dude, are you freaking serious? Can you really picture me as a mom? I sure can't. At least not right now, anyway!
Nope, can't do it I'm afraid. Besides which, I promised my sister I would avoid getting pregnant in England. Crappy healthcare here, you know.
But I hear ya on the 'glorified secretary' description. That's definitely it. Makes me wonder why people like us bother blowing all that money to go to school in the first place.
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Nope, can't do it I'm afraid. Besides which, I promised my sister I would avoid getting pregnant in England. Crappy healthcare here, you know.
But I hear ya on the 'glorified secretary' description. That's definitely it. Makes me wonder why people like us bother blowing all that money to go to school in the first place.
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