The first day of my new life went very well. The apartment is immaculate and my cupboards are fully stocked. There’s one project on the way, due December 1, and I’m thinking about looking for part-time work close by just to get out of the apartment.
I think the fids will like having me around more, too. Inigo is out on the couch beside me, investigating newly washed birdie blankets and towels. Jimmy has clamored up onto my shoulder and is mrowping. It was a gorgeous day on Long Island and they got plenty of fresh air though the open sliding glass doors on my balcony.
Once upon a time I’d have been really stressed out about a move like this. But things just got to be unbearable at the day gig. Micromanagement is the fastest way to alienate me. If there’s one thing I cannot stand, it’s someone hovering over me telling me to do some routine minor task that I’ve either already done or am in the middle of doing. The only thing more irritating to me is if the person doing it is less qualified for her job than I would be. And I had to deal with that every day for over a year.
I’ve come to the conclusion that I have been very fortunate throughout my career. I have always worked with editors and supervisors whose experience I respected, and who were likable people. Sometimes the environment wasn’t right — I’m not big on noisy bullpens with gum-snapping sales reps talking at top volume all day next to me as I’m trying to write or edit — and commutes longer than 45 minutes tend to burn me out quickly. But every supervisor I’d ever had until the last one knew his or her stuff. I don’t have much of a writer’s ego, and when they edited my work, they made it better. I learned from them and grew as a writer, an editor and, in a few cases, a person.
Not so this last one, and the experience is not one I’d care to have again. I was working in a job I hated for a company I didn’t like in an industry I can’t respect being supervised by someone I couldn’t stand. I’d much rather face the financial uncertainty of life as a freelancer.
There’s more to life than money. Even though I’m an atheist, I think Dorothy Parker had a point: If you want to know what God thinks about money, look at the people he gave it to.
Just a little something I whipped up today after looking my boss in the eye and saying, “You know what I’m tired of? Nonsense like this. I quit.”
____________________
Ahhhh….
No more irrelevant two-hour meetings.
No more obsolete equipment.
No more having to drop everything and cater to someone else’s inability to meet a deadline that was set eight weeks prior for an 800-word column.
No more listening to baritone mumbling as someone sounds out words as she types.
No more being spoken about so loudly it’s possible to hear every word through the wall.
No more hearing other people’s conference calls at top volume.
No more more “making up time” after taking an extra hour at lunch for a doctor’s appointment.
No more being edited by someone who doesn’t know the difference between then and than and actually introduces errors into a story.
No more explaining how to set a margin in Word to people whose job descriptions include writing and who make twice as much money.
No more fielding questions indicative of how unqualified someone on a masthead is, such as, “What’s an editorial style?”
No more seeing an e-mail notification, hearing a chair push back, and then being questioned on the contents of said e-mail before having the chance to finish reading it.
No more being blamed for someone else’s poor time management skills and being told, “But you need to remind me about this” after having reminded the person three times already.
No more being treated as though three sick days a year are evidence of magnanimity that deserve never-ending gratitude and eternal loyalty.
No more asking repeatedly for reviews and approvals that a more competent and experienced person would have done in one-fifth of the time just to get them out of the way.
No more being yelled at in an office.
No more anxious e-mails and phone calls from vendors and other third parties asking about the status of something because the person with the power doesn’t return calls or e-mails.
No more co-workers asking, “Is the boss going to be in today?” because the boss strolls in any ol’ time between 10:30 and noon without telling anyone where she is or what time to expect her.
No more tolerating unreasonable (and rather ironic) demands, such as “I need to have instant access to you.”
No more explaining simple business etiquette, such as, “He has every right to be angry. Net 30 means we pay him within 30 days of receiving his invoice, and we’re two weeks late.”
No more nosy people who can’t stay on their side of the desk and instead come around to try to see what is on the screen.
No more counterproductive feedback, such as, “Well, I had to put something negative in your review because we can’t have all of it be positive.”
No more people barging into the office without knocking or saying “hello” and then proceeding to riffle through a file cabinet as though there was no one sitting at the desk.
No more hearing other people snap their gum, tap their feet on their floor mats, or rap their knuckles on their desks.
No more being stared at by an anxious superior as she paces back and forth outside the glass door.
No more being forced into the role of bad cop because of someone else’s insecurity and need to be liked.
No more having to print out and hand deliver e-mails that were bounced back because the recipient can’t bring herself to delete messages that are several years old and therefore runs out of room in her mailbox at least once or twice a week.
No more constant interruptions with orders like, “I need you to look at this sentence,” without so much as a, “Do you have a second?” never mind a “Could you please.”
No more intrusive phone calls at home when sick because someone forgot to relay a message.
No more tolerating blunt, tacky comments, petty digs, and socially backwards behavior, such as hints that someone should fork over a bottle of perfume she received as a gift because “it would look great in my bathroom.”
No more being paid less than a salary earned on a lower position held three years ago.
No more overhearing the daily multiple and lengthy personal calls of someone who never seems to have enough time to get her work done.
No more listening to superiors stab each other in the back and air their differences in front of vendors.
No more forced displays of spirit, such as being required to wear a company pin that leaves a hole in clothing.
No more worrying about corporate “ghosting” on LinkedIn, or on social networks and blogs that have nothing to do with work.
No more dealing with beneficiaries of nepotism who would not last a month in similar positions outside their family and social circle, if they could even obtain such positions in the first place, considering their lack of experience and qualifications.
And alleluia, no more micromanagement.
National Geographic has a nice little history of Halloween. Ah, those pesky Christians usurping all of those delightful pagan festivals.
The article notes that there has been an upswing in mortals dressing as vampires, owing to the success of the Twilight series of books and TV shows like True Blood and Vampire Diaries.
I knew I should have finished the novel I started back in 2003 for National Novel Writing Month. I managed to write 50,140 words of a vampire novel in the 30 days of November. Two years later, I wrote what was going to be a sequel. When I finished, it occurred to me that I could put them together into one novel. They both have huge holes to fill, but put together, they’d make a nice, 500-page paperback. One of these days…
Speaking of month-long writing projects, this entry marks the end of my effort for National Blog Posting Month. The idea is to write an entry every day for a month, any month. Some of my entries this month were a stretch, but I hope they were at least entertaining.
Have a wonderful Halloween, friends — and watch your necks, because vampires really don’t sparkle and you won’t see them coming.
I can promise you that.
