weasel

I have discovered that my employer, BAC, has a location even closer to my house. I’m currently about 8 miles from door to do, about 15 minutes in the morning. This other location is about 4 miles away. I’m not sure how much faster it would prove to be in the morning, but that isn’t really the trouble: I’m not that bothered by my 15 minute commute. Remember, I used to commute 2 hours each way to TxInc. No, the attraction is to the fact that this other location has a position available with the title of Communications Editor. My current title is Senior Technical Editor/Writer, which is just fine. Well, let me go back a little bit.

I was a Senior Client Manager at TxInc. I had three federal clients that were “mine.? Essentially, I was a secretary for hire, there to administer the functional portion of a training program. Occasionally, I got pulled over to TxInc to help write and edit different documents; proposals, reports and the like. I was much happier with the writing than the client stuff, unless, of course, the client stuff let me write. Which it did occasionally. (Typing that makes me wonder why it is that I didn’t pursue getting on with my favorite client as a full time employee. They would have brought me on-board to do more writing for them. Okay, so the hour and fifteen minute commute to their location, there was that…)

Somewhere along the line, I said to myself “Self, you are good at writing. Writing is where you feel like you’ve got everything under control. It is how you feel like you are making a special contribution to the organization and you like feeling special. You really ought to find yourself a job where writing and editing are your primary functions.?

(Now, there is the whole story of Tink’s departure from TxInc that certainly did its part to speed up the process, but that is essentially how the story went.)

So I did. And I dramatically improved my commute in the process. All should be sweetness and light in August, right?

Not so much. Misery seems to be a habit with me, at least professionally. I’m not miserably married, but I am miserably employed. So much says that I ought to be grateful for simply having a job, and not just a job, but one that pays my health insurance and covers the bills almost adequately. So much says I have no right to be less-than-pleased with my employment. I have half an office, I have a decent title etc. I’m not sure what the problem is, only that there is a problem. And I’m trying to weasel my way out of it.

Well, I have an inkling. Have I mentioned the low morale? Have I mentioned the boredom? The fact that I don’t really care about our subject matter, and the whole huge portion of the topics that I don’t understand and don’t want to understand. The writing tasks are predominantly bulleted lists, and what isn’t bulleted lists requires fighting with the assorted factions who all seem to have some ego involved… If this were the great American novel, I might understand, but it is a style guide and it’s like the Muslims and the Christians fighting over Sarajevo around here. Finally, to top it all off, none of the people I get along with are happy here. It’s kind of exhausting.

So for entertainment purposes, I scan the job boards. I can’t apply to anything for another 10 months, but I like to keep my eyes open. I found something today that might suit, and I emailed the hiring manager for “informational? purposes. We’ll see how my sly bid to be snapped up by another group works out.

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weasel

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