Caught my immediate ex-boss looking at my ProfeshunalSite profile on Friday.
I purposely did not update my profile with my new title (his old one) yet.
I wanted him to change his first. (He did on Friday.) Nothing worse than leaving a place NOT on your own terms. Well, other than having your replacement break the news that it happened at all.
I mentioned it to Mom and she reminded me how we never told anyone when we lived at the ocean for seven years. Like we didn’t want anyone to be jealous of how lucky we were.
I thought about that for a good, long time. She’s right. I never said that I lived a block away from Pumpkinfuhrer.
I mean, his gaudy beach house cost bajillions and I was in a rented condo with a series of six Evil Landladies and a maintenance guy who was in jail for stealing people’s shit (and a Mercedes, in the end).
But still, now when I say to people “Oh yeah, Nazi-sympathizing Dipshit and I were neighbors,” they don’t actually believe me. Which is fine. Honestly, I didn’t want them to come visit or want to stay with me anyway.
But I see what she means. I told my old friend W. that I got a promotion. And my BFF knew. But no one else outside the company (other than Mom, natch) knows about it.
It’s an interesting experiment, to see how long it takes for the news to spread. But I trust the three in-the-know to NOT spread it.
And it’s weird to see the dynamic within the company. Other than the people who made it a point to congratulate me, it’s been eerily silent.
I moved into my new office Friday afternoon. Maybe that will make it official. (It’s a pretty sweet office, too.)
But now I’m starting to wonder whether I’m worthy. I mean, they told me specifically to not work my 70-hour weeks that got me here. “Don’t burn out on us,” I was told. But … now that I finally have the title and pay I was striving for … I don’t want to check out like all my predecessors. (Yes, ALL of them.)
I actually WANT to work and do good things, better things … to BE better.
BUT … I gots a sick mom and kitty and I really DON’T want to burn the hell out again. I was crispy before my department imploded over Easter weekend. And I can tell you right now, all the bonus steps and personalities and authorities have sandpaper potential on my psyche.
Note I said potential. I can handle it. I can handle anything. But I worry. And maybe that’s why I haven’t told too many folks about how things are actually going in my favor.
I do honestly believe the universe wants me to be happy. But I do always have my eye out for that meteor coming my way. Like, what’s it gonna take away since it just gave me something?
In any event, I really don’t think I have to work too much harder — it sounded like the promotion was to catch me up to where I’ve been functioning anyway. I mean, I came in and took over … and the previous guy faded away. But you know me. I want to be better.
Lord, please help me be better, without sacrificing the free time I’ve worked so very hard to earn. Because that’s been better than any bump in pay. (Especially since I still can’t afford to move, and that’s what I want more than anything in this world.)
Can I really have it all? Does it really just take believing it to make it so?
Have I actually, honestly, really and truly suffered enough?