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settling
I have a new job - the one I kindof didn't really want. I don't even know what it pays yet because the boss is a hyperactively busy eccentric who talks exactly like a cliche Boston-Italian mobster villain (fyi this part of the description is irrelevant to the point but I had to put it in somewhere) and he vanished halfway through the afternoon to go buy some smaller toilets. no, really.
Why am I doing this?
a) certainty beats wrangling with staffing agencies and I would really like more income right now,
b) I straight-up talked to them about the fact that I am about to get a shiny new qualification and may well fuck off in July but that is fine because it is their enormous June project they really want me around for,
c) the same things that always made me interested in this industry (housing; specifically, a private property management trust that is administering a public housing program) in the first place; the variety of work and the fact that it's everywhere and it matters. It's also likely to be helpful in the future to say that I've worked in property management, especially if I can get anywhere near their accounting team,
d) CAT. in fact, there are three cats. I haven't worked in a place with an office cat since 2010! The people are also quite nice albeit inevitably over twice my age, and they advocate wearing only sensible, comfortable clothes/shoes on account of having to be anywhere within a mile's radius at a moment's notice. (The Mobster is the only snappy dresser in evidence; I like snappy work-clothes so I am probably going to stick with them but oh fuck, I have needed a new pair of comfy dress flats for about the last two years. The Mobster's wife is tiny, shrill and wears a cat cameo pendant.) The workplace is interesting; underground, cosy, and full of mirrored walls and grandfather clocks and dehumidifiers fighting against the smell of the air. Given the expected shortness of duration I will willingly take a whiff of batshit funtiems over a sterile corporate environment. The thing about residential real estate is, people have to want to live there.
e) I seriously would have been thrilled with this as recently as six months ago.
The above makes it sound like much more of a proactive decision than it was. Really it just kind of happened and I am now sat here rationalising why I went along with it like a good girl even though it is likely to be a mixture of tedium and absurdity and I spent much of today thinking about how easy it would be to computerise a good deal of the shit they want me to do. And I've spent most of the last two weeks being an anxious wreck about how grey-out frustrated I am with working for the Dingbat and how unqualified I am for everything else, so feeling vaguely good about doing something will suffice, I hope. (I am going to continue to work for the Dingbat, just, going back to having a second job as well will help my brain a lot).
If you were wondering, the Shiny Job Of My Dreams emailed tonight to say it had ceased to exist - I was warned over the phone that they might split it into two different jobs, one of which I possibly can't do and the other of which I probably don't want, but I told them I'll keep a look out for when they re-list things. I did send a 'wtf' email to that person who wants to interview me on Monday, but now I really need to just cancel the damn interview, and tell the Useless People not to call me until July, but however inept all these staffing people are I hate the thought of even slightly damaging bridges.
Wait, no.
Why am I doing this?
a) certainty beats wrangling with staffing agencies and I would really like more income right now,
b) I straight-up talked to them about the fact that I am about to get a shiny new qualification and may well fuck off in July but that is fine because it is their enormous June project they really want me around for,
c) the same things that always made me interested in this industry (housing; specifically, a private property management trust that is administering a public housing program) in the first place; the variety of work and the fact that it's everywhere and it matters. It's also likely to be helpful in the future to say that I've worked in property management, especially if I can get anywhere near their accounting team,
d) CAT. in fact, there are three cats. I haven't worked in a place with an office cat since 2010! The people are also quite nice albeit inevitably over twice my age, and they advocate wearing only sensible, comfortable clothes/shoes on account of having to be anywhere within a mile's radius at a moment's notice. (The Mobster is the only snappy dresser in evidence; I like snappy work-clothes so I am probably going to stick with them but oh fuck, I have needed a new pair of comfy dress flats for about the last two years. The Mobster's wife is tiny, shrill and wears a cat cameo pendant.) The workplace is interesting; underground, cosy, and full of mirrored walls and grandfather clocks and dehumidifiers fighting against the smell of the air. Given the expected shortness of duration I will willingly take a whiff of batshit funtiems over a sterile corporate environment. The thing about residential real estate is, people have to want to live there.
e) I seriously would have been thrilled with this as recently as six months ago.
The above makes it sound like much more of a proactive decision than it was. Really it just kind of happened and I am now sat here rationalising why I went along with it like a good girl even though it is likely to be a mixture of tedium and absurdity and I spent much of today thinking about how easy it would be to computerise a good deal of the shit they want me to do. And I've spent most of the last two weeks being an anxious wreck about how grey-out frustrated I am with working for the Dingbat and how unqualified I am for everything else, so feeling vaguely good about doing something will suffice, I hope. (I am going to continue to work for the Dingbat, just, going back to having a second job as well will help my brain a lot).
If you were wondering, the Shiny Job Of My Dreams emailed tonight to say it had ceased to exist - I was warned over the phone that they might split it into two different jobs, one of which I possibly can't do and the other of which I probably don't want, but I told them I'll keep a look out for when they re-list things. I did send a 'wtf' email to that person who wants to interview me on Monday, but now I really need to just cancel the damn interview, and tell the Useless People not to call me until July, but however inept all these staffing people are I hate the thought of even slightly damaging bridges.
Wait, no.
no subject
Boring is being given per-pixel instructions by your boss who lacks the tools and skill to bring his bespoke vision to reality.
I do really do like the sentence, "The workplace is interesting; underground, cosy, and full of mirrored walls and grandfather clocks and dehumidifiers fighting against the smell of the air." Although I think it should be a colon, not a semicolon. (Semicolons take a lifetime to master; commas, two lifetimes.) It does make America sound endearingly eccentric - I can't imagine encountering an office like that in the UK.
no subject
It may just be that property management offices are eccentric - this one is in the basement of a high-rise. IDEK. One other thing that really struck me already is the obvious loyalty of the staff (which their age is a reflection of, in part), which is either another sign that this is a win or a sign that they really are the Mob. :(