11 months and counting
Eleven months at this job and it doesn't seem like much has changed. I thought by now work might seem less of a daily grind, that I would have adjusted and have a smidgen of energy left at the end of the work day. Instead, I'm still going home exhausted. I'm not sure if this is because my job duties have changed several times and I'm only three months into my current incarnation so I haven't adjusted to the new demands or if it's just the nature of the job or perhaps there is some flaw in my personality. I have to wonder how many, if any, of my coworkers IM-ed their supervisor today asking where the monthly call stats were when they didn't show up in the electronic employee file after the first of the month. Probably not many since most people I've talked to at work don't give a shit what their average talk time is unless it gets them in trouble. I, on the other hand, obsess over my stats and make an effort to improve them each month. Now don't you think that I do this because I assume this effort is going to get me anywhere at my job. I've busted my ass for nothing more than a pink slip at far too many jobs in the past to still harbor the illusion that busting my ass is going to get me anywhere down the road with an employer. I do it because I'm very competitive, though not with others, just with myself. It's why I chose bowling and street racing as my favorite participatory sports as a teenager. Both provided nice hard facts about my individual performance that I could strive to beat the next go around. And I suppose that makes this job suit me in a way I hadn't considered before today. Tomorrow might be another daily grind, but at least it's a grind that I can measure. Though I think I'll still keeping aiming for a long term career goal of beach bum or campground host.