the one where I quit my (seemingly) great job and start something new

Lately, my favorite routine is coming home from work and baking while I listen to Welcome to Night Vale. It's not something I planned. I don't do it every day, or even every week. Just whenever I feel like it.

It's new. I like it.

***

About a month ago, I left my old job. The next day, I went to Myrtle Beach with Joe's family, and, when I got back, I started a new job. So. You know. Things have been a bit crazy around here. My new job is completely different from anything I've done in the past. There's office work, sure, but I have a much more active role in daily goings on at the company. I love it, of course, but it's taken some getting used to. My schedule is completely different, so my body is tired and my brain is confused. But it's been perfect, really. Exactly what I needed.

The job I used to have wasn't terrible or anything, but I couldn't wait to leave it. I worked for an arts non-profit, located downtown, and I worked in a beautiful building with great people. But I didn't get to do any of the fun stuff. I didn't get to interact with the public when they came to shows, see how excited they were. I didn't get to talk up any of the upcoming shows, unless I happened to be at a career fair, because I was in HR.

HR never really gets to do any of the fun stuff. HR is behind the scenes, which I actually prefer, but sometimes you just want to DO, you know? Don't get me wrong, it's important to have an HR department. (Just trust me on this, naysayers.) But I didn't want to be part of it anymore.

***

I went to the annual SHRM (Society for Human Resources Management) conference back in June. It's the largest HR conference IN THE WORLD, boasting something like 28,000 attendees, and all of them were extremely passionate about HR.

All except me, it seemed.

Every morning, there was a keynote speaker. The first day it was Hilary Clinton, the one speaker I was actually excited about, but we missed it because our flight got in too late. The second day was Blake Mycoskie, the creator of TOMS shoes. The last speaker was Mark Kelly, with a special appearance by Gabby Giffords (and holy shit was that something).

It was the third day, the day of some speaker I don't even remember, that I had a bit of a breakdown. An existential crisis, if you will. I got up at one point to use the bathroom and, rather than try and find my seat again in the cavernous auditorium, I sat on the floor in the back, leaned against the wall, and tried to pay attention.

It was then, in the midst of thousands of people clapping for "strategic thinking," and "game-changers" and [insert other annoying buzzwords here] that I thought, "What the hell am I doing here?" How could all of these people bring themselves to care about this shit, let alone at 8:30 in the morning?

But I sat there, almost in tears, wondering how in the world I'd ended up in this place, and sent desperate texts to Joe.

Yes, you could say I was being a bit overdramatic.

***

This epiphany or whatever you want to call it made me start to think about what I wanted. And then later, on the way home, there was an incident, one in which my boss said some, just, unbelievably rude and crazy things to me (this was not outside the norm of her behavior), that just about broke me (straw, camel's back, all that). I fumed the entire way home and practically ran out of the airport once we landed. I went into work the next day ready to turn in my notice. It was crazy, and irresponsible, and obviously I didn't do it, but I really, really wanted to. I've never come close to doing anything so irresponsible.

Instead, I started applying for jobs. Which is as equally frustrating and soul-crushing as is going to a job day after day that you hate. I found myself applying for HR jobs, because that's what I'm qualified for, with a sense of resignation. I wondered why I would want to leave a company I liked just to work another HR job. I wondered what the other options were.

***

Lo! But behold, a shining light in the distance, brought to me by the magic of social media! Someone on Facebook posted a job for an Adoption Counselor at a nearby animal shelter. This person would get to work with animals and make sure they found good homes. Puppies! Kittens! YOU GUYS.

"Shit," I thought. "I'd better apply for this."

So I did. And I interviewed. And I got it.

It's part-time. It doesn't pay as well as my old job. But I love going into work. I love it. I don't come home hating myself and the world. I don't cringe every time I open my work email or get a text from my new boss. No one snaps at me or assumes I'm an idiot or micromanages everything I do. People trust me. It's magical! I'm happier (ask Joe), so much happier that I can't believe I wasted so much time being unhappy in my old job.

SPEAKING of Joe, this is really all thanks to him. I was unsure about taking this job, being part-time and less pay, but he was adamant. He pushed me, in a kind way, into being brave and trying something new. This is what he does. That's why he's the best. 

I don't know where this new path will lead. Maybe I'll work with animals forever in some way. Maybe this is just a thing I'll do for a while. Maybe (HOPEFULLY) I'll use more of my free time to write and be able to make that into something. WHO KNOWS. I don't. And for a person who plans EVERYTHING, including their own free time, that is a pretty big fucking deal.

Here lies Walter Fielding. He bought a house and it killed him.

When I was laid off in April, I wasn't that discouraged. I hadn't liked my job in a very long time. I was driving almost an hour to and from work every day and, once I got to work, had very little to do. No one really paid attention to what I was doing, the company was in constant upheaval, and there were so many layoffs every week that everyone was all negative, all the time, no exceptions.

So I welcomed my unemployment, really, and I vowed that I wasn't going to take another job just to have a job. I was really lucky that I had that luxury. Really, really lucky. Joe was super supportive and was more adamant that I was, even, that I not take a job I wasn't sure I'd love. Probably because he didn't want to listen to me complain about work anymore. Hee.

I accepted a job offer a couple of weeks ago and start a week from today. I really think it's going to be a good fit. I'm so excited to work for this company, a local non-profit, housed in a beautiful building downtown. When I started my job search, I had this vague idea of what I wanted to be doing, based realistically on my experience, as well as my volunteer work, but I wasn't sure exactly what I'd end up doing. And instead of just applying wily-nily to any job I was qualified for, I sought out the companies I thought I'd like to work for, stalked their websites, and applied for jobs there whenever they came up. Guess what, it worked! Whoo!

So anyway, now that I have a job, Joe and I can start house hunting. We looked at approximately 10 million houses this past weekend and found a few that I wanted to make out with, and even more that I wanted to barf on. Because they were so gross that barfing on them would make them better. That's not really true. Duh. Then I joined Pinterest and am now obsessed with decorating a house that I DON'T EVEN HAVE YET. Yep, that sounds about right. 

Tiiii-iiiiime is on my side

Hey, remember that really annoying Time Warner commercial from a couple years ago? I know that doesn't help much because, as Time Warner is Satan's boyfriend, it follows that he puts out the most annoying commercials known to mankind, surpassed only by Hidy Honda and Buddy's Carpet. Those might be local commercials. Sorry. Actually no, if you've never seen a Hidy Honda or Buddy's Carpet commercial, consider yourself lucky.

Anyway. There was this really annoying Time Warner commercial, and in it, Vanessa Carlton (remember her?) warbles that song Time is On My Side. My point is, it's like the worst rendition of that song in existence. And I'm counting that time I sang it at a karaoke bar after 18 shots of tequila. OK, that never happened, but if it HAD, it still would have been better than that song. Um. Right. So.

I have absolutely no reason to be blogging right now, other than I'm bored and I have nothing else to do. Hey, it's just like the days of yore! You know! Yore! When I used to work at that orthodontist office and they would leave me unattended every Friday and I'd run out of work around 10 and spend the rest of the day blogging and reading the Internets! Good times. My 'n' key keeps sticking. So if any words are misspelled, that's why. I keep accidentally typing my name like this: Jeie, which is great because what I really want is for everyone at work to think I don't know how to spell my name right. Although, according to my parents, I haven't been spelling my name right since 4th grade. That's when I changed it from "Jenny" to "Jennie" because there were four other Jennifers in my class and they all went by Jenny and they all spelled it with a 'y' and I was all, "I want to be different!" I wish someone had told me I didn't have to change the spelling of my name because I was always going to be "different," no matter how I spelled my name. It would have saved a lot of confusion. And time. Because I've had lots of conversations like this:

HP (Hypothetical Person, not Harry Potter): Do you go by Jennifer?
Me: No, Jennie.
HP: Is that with a 'y' or an 'i'?
Me: "i-e."
HP: ...oh.

I didn't think it was that weird in 4th grade, but people seem to have a hard time with it. I almost started spelling it like this: Jinniey. I'm glad I didn't, though. Most people default to the wrong spelling (Jenny), but I don't get offended considering a lot of my family doesn't even remember to spell it right (Jennie). Tamara tried to convince me that I should start going by "Jen" or "Jennifer" at my new job, just to switch things up. I fully intended to do so on my first day, but then my new boss led me around introducing me as "Jennie with an ie," and I knew it wasn't going to happen. I finally got someone to remember that I'm Jennie with an 'ie' JUST when I don't want anyone to call me Jennie at ALL. Isn't it ironic? Well? Alanis? Anyone?

Anyway, NOW my point is I'm going to start going by Cassandra. Tell your friends.

Are you there, blog? It's me, Jennie.

One week in, and I still don't have access to everything I need in order to do my job and so here I sit, twiddling my thumbs and twirling my hair. Although, not at the same time because I only have two hands so that'd be impossible. Or at least really hard. Anyway. It's not that I mind mindlessly surfing the internet all day, it's just that I have so much time to mindlessly surf the internet THAT I'M RUNNING OUT OF INTERNET. My Google Reader is practically empty and if it goes to ZERO, prepare for FULL-BLOWN PANIC. You know, running through the building and screaming and tearing out hair and rending of garments etc. It's not pretty, is what I'm saying.

Yesterday, my coffeemaker went kaput, making this the fourth coffeemaker to die in our apartment. I blame the kitchen, not Heidi or I, because THROUGH NO FAULT OF OUR OWN*, most of the other kitchen appliances have also broken. Clearly there is some sort of Hellmouth under our kitchen so I'll place the blame there. I went exploring at lunch, even though I had no idea where I was going, which is a dangerous thing for someone like me who gets lost in her own apartment. Anyway, not only did I find a Target so I could replace my coffeemaker, but I found a Panera and a Chipotle AND A BOOKSTORE and a bunch of other stores that I had no use for today, but it's nice to know they're there. So, you know, it's a good thing this job pays more, is what I'm saying.

*aside from the garbage disposal

I always wondered...

if I could spend an entire day at work and NOT check my personal e-mail. Turns out I can, but only if I don't have a computer in front of me.

Also. I'm sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepy. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a billion items in my Google Reader to get through.