I seem to be responsible for setting up a party for a fellow in the office who is retiring. The kind of party where I have to reserve a whole restaurant and order food and drinks and oh my god what the—what is this—are they for real?
NO SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE SHIT.
…on the plus side, if I succeed at throwing this party, I mean. Wow. Maybe they’ll keep me full-time! D:
HELLO RESPONSIBILITY.
I seem to be employed again! For now. My agent at Talent Tree assigned me to a small company over in Queen Anne for the next six weeks, although there’s a possibility that if they like me (and I like them) that I could be hired on permanently. That’s some good fuckin’ news right there, as eight days of unemployment was eight days too long.
(There was a weekend or two in there at some point, but those doesn’t count because they were WEEKENDS.)
So the environment is completely fucking different from the Bookstore. I am an honest-to-jeebus receptionist now in a very small security company. There are maybe twenty people who work here.
On my first day, the woman training me said this: “It can get pretty busy here, the phone might ring five, maybe twenty-five times–”
“At the same time?” I gaped, and she burst out laughing.
“No, no,” she said, “I mean all day.”
Going from 1,000 calls a day to 25 calls a day…it’s sort of weird.
I have discovered that in Corporate America, the amount of work you do is inversely proportionate to the amount you get paid. After three years at the Bookstore, I had so much work to do that I had to come in often on my days off just to finish everything. I had hundreds and hundreds of calls per day. I made 10 bucks an hour to do it. Here, however, in lovely Queen Anne? Shit, I’ve been here since 7:30 (it is just after 9) and I filed like, six folders and answered about ten phonecalls, and I made 12 dollars an hour to do it.
Should that be exciting? I mostly feel guilty. I can’t tell if I’m too badass for this place or what. I mean, it’s really really lovely. The building is on Lake Union and everyone’s been incredibly nice to me. The commute is lame, but the view is astounding. Anyone here ever walked down Queen Anne hill towards the water while the sun’s coming up? Fuck me it is amazing.
…Also it doesn’t hurt to mention that if I get hired here (permanently, mind) my pay rate automatically bumps to 13. Shit, son. I could deal with a little guilt.
However, as I am now starting to feel really guilty, I will log off and find something work-related to do.
In the last 24 hours, I split up with my boyfriend (because he lied) and quit my job (because it sucked). You’d think I’d be freaked out or something, but I’m so happy I think I’ve gone stupid from all the adrenaline. Life just keeps moving and moving and it’s the most amazing thing ever.
Okay I know I haven’t been blogging about comics, which is kind of why I made this blog in the first place, but I’ve been so freakin’ busy this month I haven’t even had the time—and even this post isn’t about comics, because I have to get back to work! Instead, this post is about how ABSOLUTELY FUCKING AWESOME this day has been.
1) My employee review was today, which I have been dreading for two months. Mostly because I’m neurotic like that, even though I know I’ve been doing really well. The review was incredibly casual and took all of five seconds. Seriously. Normally they drag me into a huge room and talk about my failures for fifteen minutes (can you see why I might dread it?). Today, Cary comes into my office and says, “Well, I’ve calculated your raise. You’ll be making $10.40 starting July 15th.”
“Wait, what?”
He looks apologetic. “I’m sorry, do you not want to do your review now?”
“Oh. Um. Yes, sure,” I say, and suddenly I am wracked with anxiety.
“Well, your raise is .25 cents. Sorry we couldn’t do more, it just wasn’t in the budget.” He’s going through his mail now, and we’re not even looking at each other since I’m still doing my own work. “I did try, since I’ve been very happy with your job performance this year. Except for the—”
“—the tardiness, yes, I know—”
“—but we already talked about that, and it’s gotten better. Don’t worry.”
I made a few dumbfounded noises, and we talked shop for a bit, and then he gave me a paper with my wage increase on it and that was all. I’ll be making an extra 600 dollars per year! Hellz yeah. It’s going straight to savings.
2) Speaking of savings. My bank has been mysteriously withdrawing 12 dollars per month from my savings for the last six months. I didn’t question it, forgot about it within days, until today when I finally snapped. I went to my bank and talked with my favorite teller (henceforth to be known as Teller Boy!) and explained it to him. He figured out that the woman who set up my account accidentally gave me one intended for CRAZY RICH PEOPLE. Or something. I was getting charged fees because I was supposed to maintain a minimum balance of 20,000 freaking dollars. No, seriously. They refunded all the money I lost (which, at this point, is just free money) and set me up for the proper one.
3) About a half hour ago I logged onto my timeclock for work to check my hours. I often find it comforting to calculate how many hours I’ve worked so I know what I’m making. I sometimes do this several times in a single day. Don’t judge. Anyway—so, I check my hours. I noticed I had a mysterious addition of eight hours that I know I didn’t work. Therefore, I went to talk to HR about it.
“I seem to have an extra eight hours I didn’t work,” I say.
“Oh, right,” says Colleen. “I forgot to tell you about that. Surprise!”
“Well, awesome, obviously. But, uh, why?”
“We were auditing and found out you didn’t get paid for working January 1st.”
“…Huh, really? Wow.” And then I did a dance. I danced my heart out, all the way from her desk to mine.
It’s been a very good day. I’m probably going to die tonight. Oh well!