Saruwatari Ayumi (junglemonkee) wrote,
Saruwatari Ayumi

I've Died. If I Had Time to Lie Down, I Could Be Buried.

A few weeks ago, the president of our company announced that we finally made money and that not only would everyone get a bonus, but that, after two years, we would finally be getting our raises.

Now, I got a "promotion" about the same time. This means that despite the fact that I told my boss in my last review that I have to attend too many meetings, I get to attend EVEN MORE. And it's not because my input is somehow valued or appreciated. It's because I take good notes and can be counted on to type them up and distribute them to the engineers who didn't think the meeting was important enough to bother staying awake, and certainly won't even bother opening the attachment of my email.

I also have more reporting requirements, and responsibility for knowing what everyone on my team is doing at any given moment. Which is easy, considering that my team is shrinking. When I came here, I was one of eight tech writers. There are four of us now, and one guy is retiring at the end of this year. Sure, he says that they have an open req for his position, but we just had an open req for another position that was vacated by a departing writer, and I spent an entire fucking week interviewing, only to be shot down by the head of the company who now seems to think that we don't need another tech writer.

In addition to increased responsibility, etc., I raise. And it's not like my boss came to me and said "I can't give you a raise because your review date is too far in the past. Your review had to be after N/NN, and yours was before that. I'm sorry." No. What he *actually* said was "I're here about your raise. I know, but I haven't done the paperwork. I suck. Don't worry, I'll take care of you." This last said with that infuriatingly insincere wink that the magician at the birthday party gives to the kids before he makes the live bird disappear, leaving them wondering what the hell he's done with it. It says to me "I have more important things to worry about than YOU." Unfortunately for him, I don't. I'm as important to myself as it gets, and I frankly have nothing better to do than lobby on my own behalf. Especially since I have decided that until they hire another writer, I refuse to work beyond 8 hours ever. No more evenings to make a deadline. No more weekends tying up loose ends on a project. No more. Of course they don't need another tech writer if the ones who are left are content to work themselves to death. Well, I've got other plans.

We've been in the new house for two weeks. The first week was hilarious and fun because we were trying to find even the most basic things - dishes, socks, toothbrushes. We were in this sort of shared adventure where we were getting up early, enjoying the process of acquainting ourselves with our neighborhood, then coming home after work and going through boxes.

Once we got the very most basic things sorted, it became a grind. We fell into bed exhausted every night. The house is always on the verge of being clean and tidy, but never quite because it seems like there's always the contents of a single box marring the landscape. We stopped communicating quite so effectively, so we both felt as though we were working at cross purposes.

I keep looking around the place and thinking "Once X happens [the housewarming, unearthing a specific lost item, etc.], I'll be able to do Y [get on the Internet, package my novel, lose 30 lbs.]." In the meantime, I'm in limbo and feeling angry about it. Not white anger. Just sort of dull mustard-colored anger. Mustard that stains and reminds you forever about how you felt that one time for a while. And no matter how happy you might be, you see that mustard-colored anger stain and it brings you down a little.

Now that the flush of success has worn off, I'm left with just feeling frustrated. My novel is not exactly done. The last parts of it need editing, and it's not like I have a lot of time. I've worked out a plan with pirateguillermo for how I'm going to finish it, but still, I'm still going uphill.

And then I have to dig out the documentation I have that tells me exactly what pieces of paper agents need, because that's not the sort of thing that I just normally remember. And then (and only then) it will be worth breaking my "never on a weekend" rule (see above). Just so that I can come in and make a zillion copies on the company printer. In lieu of a raise. Or a decent bonus. Or the opportunity to drop-kick my boss for putting me off.

And I keep feeling like the longer I put it off, the worse my chances become, and it's not like they're all that great in the first place. I'm in that mathematical dilemma where, before I get from A to B, I must first go half that distance. And before I get there, I must first go half that distance, etc., until I'm paralyzed just thinking about it.

*sigh* This, too, shall pass.

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