Tag: career

Twist of the Knife


I’m going to go all whiny, dramatic, “woe is me”, bitchy bitchfest in this post. 

I’ll feel better about life tomorrow, but today?

Today sucks and I hate it and I’m going to vent.

You’ve been warned.

For the past two weeks, I’ve been working on a proposal at work.  It’s not part of my current job, but something I’ve been putting together in my down moments.  I’m proposing a new position within the company entirely, something I would build from the ground up.

Something I would create, mother, and love.

And hopefully something for which I will get paid a smidge more than I do now…

Now, aside from that, there’s been some changes in the office.  I have a new boss as of about two weeks ago as well, and I’m nervous about pitching such a large thing to her, considering that we haven’t worked together long, and I have a hard time reading her.

Regardless of the office upheaval and hesitancy I initially felt with the changes, I set up a meeting date with my new boss last week to go over my proposal.

It took some balls on my part to even set the meeting, honestly… I figured I’d just get into her office, hand her my well-organized agenda, and hopefully black out, waking up to find that I’d rocked the meeting and was now the Vice President of Something or Another.

That meeting was cancelled because of some Unavoidable Office Logistics issues.  I promptly rescheduled it for two days later.

That meeting was cancelled because of another Unavoidable Event.  To her credit, New Boss tried to reschedule for that afternoon, but couldn’t because I was leaving work early to attend The Most Disappointing Pre-Op Surgical Consult in History.

The meeting was then rescheduled a third time, for today.

I couldn’t sleep last night.  I was wired, having put some last minute tweaks on my proposal which included stats and numbers and effing spectacular data that no manager could possibly deny was useful and worthy of raises and vacation days and promotions.  Obviously.

I had picked out my outfit over a week ago – a brand new blazer, flattering t-shirt, and an only-vaguely Harry Potter themed lightning bolt necklace, and my bright red, five inch Self-Esteem Heels.

I made my breakfast for this morning ahead of time, so that I would be able to concentrate on my proposal and not on my stomach.

I got up this morning, showered, put on makeup with extra care, and curled my hair.  I put on my carefully planned outfit, grabbed my pre-made breakfast, and headed out the door, ready to rock this thing.

I got to my desk in a great mood, despite feeling the effects of a lack of sleep and some residual anxiety about my meeting.

But then a Series of Painful Ironies began to play out…

The office receptionist is like twelve months pregnant.  Or nine.  Whatever.  She’s a lovely girl, and the sweetest thing in the whole world, and I feel like she’s been pregnant FOR-EVV-ERRR.

For whatever reason, no replacement for her has been identified as of yet, but maternity coverage has been in the works for a few weeks.

She had her baby this morning, leaving the front desk unmanned.

I’ve been asked to fill in.  Apparently there is no one else.

Also, New Boss had Something Unavoidable come up, and won’t be here to meet with me today.  Again.

So not only am I not going to be able to pitch my ideas again, I’m feeling rather like I’ve received a demotion… Not that there’s anything wrong with being a receptionist – I’ve done it a time or two myself! – and while I am always happy to help out around the office with whatever comes up, it makes it hard to handle while I am sitting on these Big Plans of Mine.

Oh, and here’s the other thing.

This receptionist desk is covered with wedding, ultrasound, and maternity photos of the previous occupant.

All of these photos were taken within the last nine months.  Including the wedding photos.  I’m pretty sure she got pregnant her wedding night.  We are the same age.  Blerg.

Again, lovely girl, a friend to all – including myself, mad props to her fertile girl-parts, but DUDE.

So here I sit, staring at someone else’s successes while I wallow in my own self-pity.

I feel like this is yet another way that life is punishing me for my inability to procreate.

Oh, you’re cranky, barren, and would like a promotion?

How’s about you go sit at a desk where you’re expected to smile all the time, do a job that no one else wants to do, look at ultrasound photos that depress the shit out of you, and answer the “Ohhhh!  Did she have her baby??” question all day.  How’s that sound?

Oh, and if one more person says to me “Hey, are you the new receptionist?  I thought they were hiring someone!”, I’m going to start ramming my head into a wall.

Needless to say, I’m more than a little put out.

I’m feeling a bit like Milton today.

Someone took my stapler, moved me to the basement, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they just stopped paying me.

Okay.  Not really.  I’m being crazy and dramatic, and life isn’t all THAT bad, but you get the idea.





End rant.

Apologies for the lack of happy, sunshiny, glass is still half full even tough a bird crapped in it, positive mental attitude today.

I’ll be better tomorrow.

I promise.

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A safe space where I discuss the racing thoughts in my head, personal struggles, and day-to-day activities while struggling with mental health and mood disorder issues. My personal goal is to reduce the stigma that comes with mental health and mood disorders, by talking more about it.