Friday, May 20, 2011
Happy Friday, everyone. If you're in a region of the world that has a long weekend coming up, enjoy! I'm praying the weather reports are wrong, and that we'll actually get some sunshine on Saturday and Sunday.
For this week's Fun Friday, I want you to tell me about your worst job. We all had to start somewhere...what was your worst of the worst?
My worst job was a slow death in a beige cubicle. Everywhere I looked, all I could see was beige. Even the people were beige. I was surrounded by co-workers in their twilight years who said, "It was just a summer job when I was fifteen...just a summer job...." That place was a trap I was desperate to escape. I would have gnawed off my own arm if the museum position hadn't come along.
I should have known I was in trouble when the office supplies I inherited from my predecessor had the word Help scrawled on them. Or when the vacant cubicle next to mine was filled with name plates--names of the poor souls who came before me but hadn't survived. When I left that place, I took my name plate with me. There was no way I was adding to that trophy wall.
There wasn't much for me to do, but what there was was mundane, monotonous, and tied up with red tape. Any creative spark was quickly crushed under foot. I went crazy with boredom. The other bright, ambitious souls who'd been trapped along with me left before I did, with each departure leaving me sadder and more alone.
I worked with a team of women who, left to their own devices and without much to do, grew nastier and nastier. They devolved into a pack of wild dogs, snapping and snarling. They chose victims and circled, making their prey's life one of misery and ostracism. My poor male boss had no idea what was going on and couldn't understand it, so the situation only got worse.
I have never felt more free than the day I left that office for the very last time. And I will never work in a place like that again, ever. The very worst day at the museum is a million times better than a "good" day there.
Free at last, free at last, thank god almighty, I'm free at last.
Posted by J.H. Moncrieff at 5:00 AM