Oy vey.
Flashback to January of 2013. It’s freaky enough to me that that was almost three years ago. But I wrote a post about “I’m gonna hammer and sickle my way outta here.” Ohhhh and how I wanted to. I was thinking back to that today—remembering how cold it was and how awful the process of dancing for Massa’s amusement is. Here we are again and here I am again, thinking precisely the same thing.
I had a bailout lined up in March of this year. Unfortunately, it was a bust. By the time the dust settled, it was nothing special. On top of that, the guy in charge referred to himself as a Sherpa (seriously) and turned into a demanding ass. So unfortunately, my bailout turned out to be an invitation from the frying pan to the furnace. Things were pretty good last year. After all of the pageantry was completed at the beginning of 2013, I sorta decided to pour myself into work. I felt like it couldn’t hurt anything. I’d just gotten out of that horrible “relationship” with Psycho Darcy and I needed something positive, something to work out and be straightforward. Thankfully, the money train FINALLY rolled in and my tolerance level for the nonsense went up. Not that I have ever enjoyed it, mind you. I figured out that my tolerance level was directly proportional to the money train. If the money train is generous, I can tolerate dancing for Massa. If the money train is nowhere in sight, fuck it. I do NOT want to endure forced socialization and having my strings pulled like a puppet.
I was also thinking about the time when my friend, Ron, said, “It feels like we’re riding a dead horse here.” And he was 100% right. Initially, after I left my old company, I was freaked out. I knew almost immediately that the place I went to (and only stayed at for 6 weeks) was a hellhole and that I’d made a huge mistake. So . . . yeah . . . it was bad times. I didn’t know it then, but I was having problems with anxiety and panic. All I could think was, “Holy shit, I made a big mistake and now I have no clue how to fix it.” It’s not fun to look for a job for several months, find one, hate it, and then begin a new job search all over again. I didn’t know I was having problems with anxiety and panic so I wasn’t in therapy for it and I didn’t have good coping skills. Now that I recognize a panic attack when it happens, I am a little bit better at differentiating between baseless panic and a real cause for concern. Looking back on it, I wish I could have been calmer and less emotional about the whole schmear.
Anyway, I regretted leaving the old company and tried to go back. In fact, I tried two or three times after I first started my current job to go back, but they were assholes about it. They made me an offer to come back before I took my current job. I decided not to and they weren’t going to let me forget it. But I haven’t looked back over the past few years with any regret. I don’t miss the old company, no desire to go back, think of them as a joke, basically. That’s been on my mind recently: that feeling of having the courage to leave a safety net and then realizing it was the right thing to do. It’s scary. Especially when the economy is down. You worry so much about the “what ifs” of the situation that you may talk yourself out of a good thing.
Right now, nothing is formal. I don’t have any official news to report. I’m exploring options and keeping an open mind. It was disappointing when the bailout in March turned out to be pointless. Although the flip side was that it was also much more comfortable to stay put. You get the comfort of staying in a safe place where you already have a niche. The devil you know. The shitty thing is: the devil you know is still a devil. And who wants that? I can’t say I’m not torn. Or maybe not torn. Nervous is probably the better word for it. I’m actually not conflicted about the departure itself if it happens. (“Bye, Felicia!”) Right now my nervousness is:
What if I get excited and then nothing comes of it?
What if some deal-breaker occurs and I have to walk away from the prospect of a bailout? Could I continue on without being depressed about it?
What if everything is awesome, but then I get there and it sucks ass?
What if I go broke?
What if I lose my house?
What if shit gets really vindictive and people come after me?
Some of these are totally possible, others are highly unlikely. Welcome to the world of anxiety, LOL. I don’t want to ride a dead horse. I’m also coming up on what I think of as a sort of milestone birthday: 35. I’m not sure why exactly, but I think of 35 as a sign that you are officially, unmistakably, and irrevocably an adult. Not like “Oh hey, I’m 18 now, bitches” or “I’m 21 and I can drank now, fools.” But the kind of adult who has a mortgage, a 401K, and who has to make smart decisions instead of not GAF. From an article on NY Mag:
“Turning 35, of course, has never been without its complications. Halfway to 70, we're nearly halfway to death, at least in terms of America's mean life expectancy of 76. But now grafted onto the traditional anxieties are a whole set of new ones -- immediate, cultural, economic.
‘The basic issues around this age are still the same,’ says Gail Sheehy, author of the seminal midlife-crisis guidebook Passages. ‘By 35, you've paid your dues, you've proven you're competent, but you become dissatisfied by the confines of your life. It's natural to feel restless. But now this restlessness is exaggerated. It comes from thinking, 'My God, if I don't become a Web zillionaire in a year or two, the kids are going to come and take it all away from me.' ”
I think that’s another thought popping into my mind about all of this. The next milestone is 40. Then 50 and so on. Uh . . . where do I wanna be at 40? Before I left the old company, a manager who was retiring was kind enough to be honest with me. One thing he said was that if I stayed, in five years, I’d be sitting in the same seat only with more duties piled on me and with just enough pay raises to keep me in golden handcuffs. Fuuuuck. I worry about that happening again with this situation. In five years, if I stay, I will be sitting in the same seat. I will have more piled on me with just enough extra money to stay but not enough to get me where I want to be.
Maybe I’ll get a live horse. We’ll see.
