Saturday, August 9, 2014

Leaving my job as the crowned prince of hell for greener, less fiery pastures
Wednesday will be my last day at my current job, bringing to end a three and a half year long adventure in the world of business-to-business informative writing.
                Since this was my first, honest to god, on the books job post-graduation, naturally the process of leaving has awakened many a-feelings.
                Part of me, the part that likes routine and complacency, is in a full-on panic over the prospect of leaving a job I know inside and out to do something completely different, somewhere completely different, with a lot of people I’ve either never met or have only briefly met.  
                The side of me that skews towards the negative has already began prepping itself for me to try something new, totally fail and then have to either a) go crawling back to the job I’m leaving now or b) spend the rest of my days cooking boots over open fires near train tracks.
                There is small section of my subconscious that is also super excited to try something new, but that’s the section that all of the other sections pick on and dunk in toilets. I know that section is absolutely 100% right and change is good, it’s just sometimes hard to hear the logic over all the wailing and fearful sobbing coming from the other sections.
                One area that’s been working overtime lately has been my nostalgia center. It’s gotten to the point where every time I do anything at work I think, “That might be the last time I borrow that spoon from the kitchen,” or “After this, I may never have to clean mandarin orange juice off this desk again.”
                I’ve spent a decent block of time lately thinking about all the things I’ll miss about that place: the people, parts of the job, taking walks around the building to clear my head.
                I’d go into more detail, but this is the Internet and an abundance of positivity is just about the only thing the Internet frowns on.

                So instead please enjoy this list of the Top 5 Things I Won’t Miss About My Current Job!

  • Lack of toilets for the fellas. Each men’s room at that place has one toilet and one urinal. There are three bathrooms on my side of the building. You math pros out there know that means there are three total toilets for guys to use. You bathroom pros know that is not nearly enough to support a small-to-mid-sized staff. To put it bluntly, dudes got to poop. There is nothing worse than walking that cycle of three a few times waiting for something to open up while seriously regretting having lunch at the Chinese buffet. Why didn’t I ever check out the bathrooms on the other side of the building, you ask? Because that place is a side of mystery where only the bravest dare to tread.   
  • Urinal door that doesn’t lock. Two out of the three urinals in the aforementioned bathrooms are out in the open in the bathroom. That’s fine, it’s standard urinal operating procedure. But one of them is located in a stall. “Oh, that’s nice!” you might think. “A little privacy for the peeing gentleman!” Nope. The door to this stall doesn’t lock. What that means is if the door is even remotely closed while you’re peeing, there’s an 80% that someone is going to come into the bathroom, not bother to check the feet, and slam the door open with all his might, scaring the beejesus out of you in the process. No part of that, none, is good bathroom etiquette! For one thing, you always check for feet to see if a stall is occupied. You do the little half bend move, if there’s feet you move on, no feet you’re good to go. On top of that, why can’t guys just open a door, instead of throwing all of their body weight into? If you’re not a cop investigating a murder, you don’t need to be hurling yourself into doors. Go half-speed, guys, it won’t kill you.
  • Associating with telemarketers. My current job does a lot of telemarketing. This is a less than desirable trait for obvious reasons. It’s made things more difficult during average social situations where the traditional subject of telemarketing comes up (right after the weather and before local sports teams). Instead of doing the usual “Deport them all to the moon” routine, I kind of had to sheepishly nod and pray no one discovered my dark secret. I was like a less interesting or in no way badass “Dexter.”
  • Blind curves. My entire office building is made up of 90 degree blind turns. The walk to the nearest bathroom has five heart-stopping turns. The walk to the kitchen? Seven! I can’t go anywhere without turning a corner and nearly walking directly into someone headed the opposite direction. Then we both do that thing where we nearly jump out of our skin, mumble either an awkward apology or an even more awkward greeting (a lot of us are writers) and then do the dance where we can’t decide who should go which way around the other person. I need a more open office layout where I don’t have people leaping out at me like a second rate horror movie every time I want to microwave my leftovers.
  • Communicating with cheesed off customers. When your company does a lot of telemarketing and when those telemarketers are sometimes not totally upfront with customers about what they’re getting themselves into, it can lead to problems for people like me who are supposed to communicate with said customers for stories. I’ve been told off or rudely hung up on many times during my career for doing nothing more than working for a company that someone didn’t like. I’m not the problem. I didn’t sign them up for anything, but it didn’t matter. My favorite example of this is the email I got from a man who, in broken English, announced that he never wanted my publication in the first place and that I was, in fact, the devil. The crowned prince of hell. Yup. And they said that English degree wouldn’t get me anywhere.

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