Job therapy

My Hot Shot Husband says I need job therapy, and he’s probably right.

The job I’ve had for the past two months is miserable.

There are parts of the job I love. And there are parts I’m not crazy about. And then there is the weekly production grind that lasts 14-17 hours. Every. God. Damn. Week.

When I took the job, I was tasked with making a plan to improve the work schedule. I’ve come up with more than one plan, and each time I’ve been told why it won’t work. And all the reasons boil down to the fact that my publisher would rather work until 3 a.m. than add staff, enforce deadlines or change anything else about the status quo in order to achieve a tenable schedule.

Meanwhile, it’s just getting worse rather that better. And in addition to being a miserable job, it’s not even paying my bills.

And so my HSH and I had a conversation the other day about how I’ve got to find some other place to work. That’s when he told me that I probably won’t find a job that makes me happy until I get job therapy. He says I was inculturated to be miserable at work by the decade+ I spent at that one job.

Maybe he’s right.

I’ve been trying to think of jobs I loved. I loved working for that year and a half at the church. I love writing. I do not love newsrooms of any size.

I have fantasies of one day owning a stationery and card shop on Main Street. Advice anyone? Where my stationers at?

A former colleague and I have been talking about starting our own business offering a variety of marketing, writing, event planning and communications services. We worked together on a project earlier this year, and I think it went pretty well. The product she orchestrated is beautiful, and I think I could learn a lot from her.

We met for lunch day before yesterday, and we talked about where to begin. I said we should start by coming up with a really cool name. Then I said we should figure out all the services we could offer.

She said, “No. I think we should start by articulating the kinds of lives we want to live, and let the rest of the plans follow that guide.”

As a woman who is working 50+ hours a week and still not covering my basic expenses, clearly the notion of planning for a happy life has not recently occurred to me.

I do not know if she and I will really get it together and start something. But the thought of it gives me hope on those days when my boss asks me whether I’ve noticed $kunk$ seem to be getting wh1ter.
“Um. No?”
“Yeah,” he says, with great excitement. “Say, I think that would make a great story.”
“Again, I have to say No.”:

So I’m not totally happy there. I am happiest working for myself or at least enjoying the “free” part of “freelancer.” But I also am a lousy freelancer in regard to my talent for selling myself.

Maybe I need to read "The Secret."

Comments

[ppb]

See, I really like coming up with the cool names first, too!

[An' Beppe]

Might I just add to your laundry list of woes that I have been assigned a story on $#*#(#*#@ SEA SHELLS? Criminy. Criminy against humanity. "You know what's hot right now? Sea shells. Shoes? People wear 'em. Summer? It's hot." GOD. That writers' commune idea of yours is more and more appealing.

[Bettie Bookish]

Well come on up, An Beppe. You know we've got the room for you. How do you feel about chickens?

[An' Beppe]

I feel that they're delicious. Mmm. Chicken. I'm so there.

[moreena]

Oh, Bettie Bookish. You are ripping the lovely veil right off of all my lovely, fuzzy dreams of regular work. Running a small-town paper? Heavenly! So quaint, and so free, and so, um, quaint!

Say it isn't so! I hate to think of you there, unhappily plugging away when you should instead be sending out your funny, warm vibe into the universe.

[stepblog]

Good luck Bettie. I think all of us writer / PR types dream of the freelance gig or going out on our own. I always thought the key would be finding one pretty big client with a steady stream of work, and then building from there. Hard, though! Good luck.