Haiku d'Etat. Damn, that's good.
Tolerable day at work, because I have Moved On. (See the photo inset for sophisticated symbolic representation of personal sentiment. Oooh.)
"Moved On" = after Friday's impromptu j-o-b talk with the director, I am all about hitting the road, sailing the seas, soaring the wild blue yonder. Funny that. I had as positive and ideal a conversation as I could have hoped (short of offering me double my salary to stay at home) and following it, all I want to do is run screaming from the place. It's nobody's fault, certainly not the director's. He did everything he should have in telling me that my contribution is valued, that of course I deserve more and better compensation, and that I am free to present to him a re-written job description, which he will more than likely approve. Fair enough. Respectful words, frank exchanges, and a hand shake later, and I felt pretty good about what had transpired. I should note that I did not expect that this would go badly; I had just not planned to take whatever minor grievances I have about the nature of my work to the director at this point. I wanted merely to telegraph to my boss that if the job responsibility horizon did not expand and soon, i'd be forced to look elsewhere for more desirable opportunities.
After the director scooted, I chatted with my boss, and though he and I have a significantly better relationship than the director and I (and the director and he), I was less heartened by our discussion and something didn't sit right for the rest of the night. Though he is and was supportive in his way, I didn't feel that he was actually listening to what I needed out of this decidedly stepping-stone job. He has one script, and I have another, which is fine, until those two collide or conflict. Bottom line: He will have his professional needs met, beccause, among other things, he has the power to assert them. And he will do what he can to support me in my career advancement, I have no doubt about that. What will happen in the short-term though, is that nothing will change unless I act definitively. Fine. It is my responsibility, I'm not arguing that. I'm just saying that the little guy has to do all the work, as usual, and it's tiring. Whither a world which recognizes talent and advances without nudging, prodding, and concerted personal advocacy. Whither merit? Bwaaahahahaahhahah! Hoo, that was just too earnest for words.
In other news, our pal B is back at work from her 2nd round of chemo on Thursday, and she was looking great and even had enough of an appetite to head out to lunch with me and P. Nice! She's now lost all her hair and was in her first of what will be many scarves. She's unusually even-keel, though she has her moments, of course, but we're all thrilled to see her at work being the B we're accustomed to her being. I hope that we can provide some normalcy for her amongst our usual lunacy. She's got a ways to go yet in her treatment, and whatever we can do, we'll do. Bless you, B.
Graphix note: The miracle that is G00gle image search yielded this when I typed in "hopefulness," and I just thought it too perfect that someone, somewhere thought to parse it. Rueful chuckling ensued.
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