As my previous post indicated, I now have some free time on my hands, and it occurred to me that this may be a good opportunity to dust off an idea I've had for some time. Basically, I think it would be funny to post some of the more annoying toys that have found their way into our previously quiet household.
This first item, I've dubbed "Hell Tractor," because I have no idea how we procured this ridiculous thing, so I can only assume it arrived here via a portal from hell. It arrived sans batteries, which should have tipped me off that even Satan couldn't stand this thing in its fully-functional form.
Originally, our son loved the tractor when it was just inanimate and innocent. But then I went and decided to see what the thing would do if I loaded in some batteries. Imagine my surprise when I first wiggled the farmer, which is totally not a euphemism for masturbation, but probably should be:
Great howling crash wagons!
The first time I fired that thing up, my son started screaming his disapproval, and really, who could blame him. It probably didn't help that the damned thing started cruising right at him. How could you see this coming at you and not start screaming?
It also scares the hell out of the cats. When they hear Hell Tractor's engine sputtering to life, they run and hide either under the bed, or in the litter box.
Last week, staring into my work monitor, with the hissing sound of the "white noise" machine permeating the office, I just kind of hit a brick wall, figuratively speaking.
For 26 months, I'd labored at what was supposed to be a dream job: good pay, great benefits, all that good stuff. Yet it was the worst work experience I've ever had in my 12 years out of college, spanning six different jobs.
It was a writing job in name only. It was more accurate to characterize it as a mind-numbing, bureaucratic, spin-the-wheels to nowhere abyss. I would be assigned projects that would be tweaked, retweaked and, eventually, just kind of disappear altogether as infighting broke out between parties that weren't even supposed to have input when it was first assigned. I had projects that would get tied up in review so bad, some wouldn't be completed for nearly a year. Worse, processes and procedures would be updated during that time, so even if the projects were finally approved, they would no longer adhere to the most recent templates and style guidelines, so I'd have to go in and change it all. So, it was rather galling to have a performance review that said I tended to miss deadlines. Really? You don't say?
It was made all the more surreal when you consider that I had numerous freelance writing requests coming in during those two years, as many as one or two every other month. Did I ever miss those deadlines? Nope. Never. I hit them all, usually with time to spare because, and this is key: THE WORK MADE SENSE.
So it was, last week, as I sat there in the droning embrace of white noise that is, in fact, just noise, I started to consider my situation. On the one hand, I desperately didn't want to be unemployed, but on the other hand I had several freelance articles lined up, as well as paychecks coming in for freelance work I've already completed. Things will be tight, but I have enough freelance work to make things work financially through this year for sure, and probably for a year or more beyond.
And so I resigned. I resigned from a job I just couldn't see myself doing any more. I jumped. Without a net.
Well, not ENTIRELY without a net, but certainly not the kind of net you'd necessarily want to trust with your life.
Today, I have a phone interview with a company, and Thursday I have a sit-down interview with another company. And I have two freelance articles I'm working on.
In other words, I'm terrified, but strangely optimistic.
