Wednesday, February 27, 2008
I have often reflected on how lucky I am that I generally quite enjoy my job. My colleagues were always really good sorts, my work interesting varied and my mentors inspiring. I have worked with the same firm for almost six years (SIX YEARS!) and I would not run out of fingers if I counted the number of times I had gotten seriously pissed off and considered moving on. And only once have I actually applied for another job. Which, in six years, isn't a bad run. I've worked in two offices within the same firm, about half of my time in each. The office that I'm in now is very small, twelve or so people, so we sort of have to get along for the most part or it makes the hours of 8.30 until 5pm quite difficult. I've also been quite lucky in that a couple of the people I work with have turned into people I am friends with outside of the office. Two girls, in particular, I would consider amongst my closest friends.
However, just before Christmas, one of those girls left cos she got all babied up - twins! They are nearly cooked* and it is all very lovely especially because they are IVF babies and extra extra precious. She has unfortunately had a fairly troublesome pregnancy and had to finish work much earlier than expected so that she could lay down in a hospital bed for weeks on end to keep the babies from falling out**. She is out of the danger period now through and is allowed home. I went and saw her last week and made her have a photo taken with me to document the one and only time that my belly will be flatter than hers - yes, that's right - when she's seven months pregnant with twins. Because she's a clean-living, to-the-gym-twice-a-day type of chick, she was naturally thrilled to pose for the camera. I have taken on an advisory role in relation to naming the babies, and have suggested that if they are one of each gender they should be called Sharon and Darren. Two girls should be Sharon and Karen and if they are two boys they should absolutely be named Shane and Wayne. Time will tell if she heeds my advice.
The other lass left last week to relocate to Queensland with her husband, which has gutted me the most. I plan to harass her by every means of communication, including carrier pigeon, until she comes home, but I don't hold out much hope that my pleas/stalking will do a lot of good. And who would blame her? Her new office looks out onto the beach and their apartment is just around the corner from her office (and thus, the beach). And she's getting paid more. And it's, like, sunny and stuff. And there's probably hills there, which I haven't seen for years.
So that leaves the number of truly grouse people left in the office to one. Me. The replacements that have been hired for the abovementioned stars are turning out to be tools. Reaaaaal tools. One of them is one of those people that even if you were a Buddhist, you would still want to punch them in the face repeatedly. She is just so. fucking. irritating I can't even describe it. It's pretty unbearable. Luckily, as we know, I am now in my 'cell' and don't have to look at her directly very often, but I can still hear her. Which is enough to make me angry for most of the day.
And my actual work - well back in the good old days I used to do a bit of Family law, a fair bit of Criminal law, some Employment law type work and some civil litigation. Now I only do Family law. And as each day passes, I lose faith in humanity a little more. Whilst I understand how, it must be said that the breakdown of a relationship really can bring out the worst in people. Added to that fact is that I really only have a boss for two days each week because they've not replaced the total fuck-up from last year who replaced my good boss. Part-time boss really couldn't give two shits about the work we're doing, which doesn't really sit well with me when we're dealing with you know, issues like whether our client's get to see their kids and stuff. Plus the workload has been pretty light on for a few months now PLUS there's no real Net fun during my work days so all I have to do in between writing the odd nasty letter/drafting overly dramatic trial Affidavits is arrange my monkey into amusing positions and covertly take photos on my phone and then blog them.
I have made numerous enquiries of management as to whether there is an intention to try and employ someone to replace the part-time boss who replaced the total fuck-up who replaced the good boss, but I cannot get a solid answer. The jurisdiction in which I work does not have a great deal of value placed upon it because the client base isn't necessarily the type that the firm wants to attract (seriously) and it is, I think, all a bit too hard for them. I feel like I am treading water.
So, the obvious solution is to move on, yes? Yes. However, here's the tricky part. I have exactly 13 and a half months until I become eligible for my pro-rata long service leave. If I leave now, I walk away from about 9 weeks of salary paid to me in a nice lump sum. Together with my accrued annual leave, which by my calculations if I don't have a holiday from now until April '09 will be at least another 9 weeks….you know, it's a lot of moolah. Enough moolah to move away from this shithole of a town and move somewhere far away (somewhere with hills) and perhaps think about putting together a deposit down on a little place of my own. Or go travelling overseas (which I have NEVER done - how pox). Or blow it all on a heap of drugs and strippers. Whatevs.
Is that possibility of finally having enough cash to actually open up some options to me worth the possibility of spending the next year wanting to harm myself and others just for something to do?
I actually think it might be. However, I will require strategies for coping in the interim.
* Clearly not the appropriate medical term. Or any sort of medical term, actually. But I like it.
** See *
However, just before Christmas, one of those girls left cos she got all babied up - twins! They are nearly cooked* and it is all very lovely especially because they are IVF babies and extra extra precious. She has unfortunately had a fairly troublesome pregnancy and had to finish work much earlier than expected so that she could lay down in a hospital bed for weeks on end to keep the babies from falling out**. She is out of the danger period now through and is allowed home. I went and saw her last week and made her have a photo taken with me to document the one and only time that my belly will be flatter than hers - yes, that's right - when she's seven months pregnant with twins. Because she's a clean-living, to-the-gym-twice-a-day type of chick, she was naturally thrilled to pose for the camera. I have taken on an advisory role in relation to naming the babies, and have suggested that if they are one of each gender they should be called Sharon and Darren. Two girls should be Sharon and Karen and if they are two boys they should absolutely be named Shane and Wayne. Time will tell if she heeds my advice.
The other lass left last week to relocate to Queensland with her husband, which has gutted me the most. I plan to harass her by every means of communication, including carrier pigeon, until she comes home, but I don't hold out much hope that my pleas/stalking will do a lot of good. And who would blame her? Her new office looks out onto the beach and their apartment is just around the corner from her office (and thus, the beach). And she's getting paid more. And it's, like, sunny and stuff. And there's probably hills there, which I haven't seen for years.
So that leaves the number of truly grouse people left in the office to one. Me. The replacements that have been hired for the abovementioned stars are turning out to be tools. Reaaaaal tools. One of them is one of those people that even if you were a Buddhist, you would still want to punch them in the face repeatedly. She is just so. fucking. irritating I can't even describe it. It's pretty unbearable. Luckily, as we know, I am now in my 'cell' and don't have to look at her directly very often, but I can still hear her. Which is enough to make me angry for most of the day.
And my actual work - well back in the good old days I used to do a bit of Family law, a fair bit of Criminal law, some Employment law type work and some civil litigation. Now I only do Family law. And as each day passes, I lose faith in humanity a little more. Whilst I understand how, it must be said that the breakdown of a relationship really can bring out the worst in people. Added to that fact is that I really only have a boss for two days each week because they've not replaced the total fuck-up from last year who replaced my good boss. Part-time boss really couldn't give two shits about the work we're doing, which doesn't really sit well with me when we're dealing with you know, issues like whether our client's get to see their kids and stuff. Plus the workload has been pretty light on for a few months now PLUS there's no real Net fun during my work days so all I have to do in between writing the odd nasty letter/drafting overly dramatic trial Affidavits is arrange my monkey into amusing positions and covertly take photos on my phone and then blog them.
I have made numerous enquiries of management as to whether there is an intention to try and employ someone to replace the part-time boss who replaced the total fuck-up who replaced the good boss, but I cannot get a solid answer. The jurisdiction in which I work does not have a great deal of value placed upon it because the client base isn't necessarily the type that the firm wants to attract (seriously) and it is, I think, all a bit too hard for them. I feel like I am treading water.
So, the obvious solution is to move on, yes? Yes. However, here's the tricky part. I have exactly 13 and a half months until I become eligible for my pro-rata long service leave. If I leave now, I walk away from about 9 weeks of salary paid to me in a nice lump sum. Together with my accrued annual leave, which by my calculations if I don't have a holiday from now until April '09 will be at least another 9 weeks….you know, it's a lot of moolah. Enough moolah to move away from this shithole of a town and move somewhere far away (somewhere with hills) and perhaps think about putting together a deposit down on a little place of my own. Or go travelling overseas (which I have NEVER done - how pox). Or blow it all on a heap of drugs and strippers. Whatevs.
Is that possibility of finally having enough cash to actually open up some options to me worth the possibility of spending the next year wanting to harm myself and others just for something to do?
I actually think it might be. However, I will require strategies for coping in the interim.
* Clearly not the appropriate medical term. Or any sort of medical term, actually. But I like it.
** See *
Comments:
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Bugger, and no Facebook to numb the pain!
I will have to give this some thought, but in the meantime earplugs, Solitaire and a hip-flask of vodka in your top drawer seem the obvious coping strategies.
I will have to give this some thought, but in the meantime earplugs, Solitaire and a hip-flask of vodka in your top drawer seem the obvious coping strategies.
Hiya,
Long time reader - I recommend you take up knitting.
Seriously.
Even if you don't enjoy the thereputic benefits of knitting you will always have knitting needles on hand with which to stab people.
N.B it is possible to knit and read other people's blogs at the same time.
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Long time reader - I recommend you take up knitting.
Seriously.
Even if you don't enjoy the thereputic benefits of knitting you will always have knitting needles on hand with which to stab people.
N.B it is possible to knit and read other people's blogs at the same time.
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