There’s an exit sign about twenty feet from my desk at work. I’ve decided that the reason for its existence is to taunt me. It teases me with its bold red letters, the energy it sucks from the room and from me to keep itself on, the door it hovers over (a little creepy, if you ask me, all that hovering).
Monday one of my coworkers gave her notice. She found a great job and only has to come here until the end of next week. Lucky girl.
And then there’s me. Yes, I should be grateful that I still have a job, and I am grateful that I have the paycheck. The job, not so much. I won’t go into it here, but let’s just say that it’s not a fun environment–barely even tolerable. Also, the work has devolved into a massive pile of bore. For the last three months, I’ve felt like I’m just taking up space, and they’re probably only keeping me just in case everyone else gets a job. Or as headcount on the health insurance. Or so they can laugh and the exit signs can taunt me.
Since my coworker gets to scoff at the exit signs and get out of this soul-sucking place, I’m taking over her work. And now suddenly it looks like they actually need me here again. I have nine years of accounting experience, and I’ve only become useful again because a staff accountant with a little over a year of experience is leaving.
How twisted is that? It’s demeaning.
I know why things have turned out the way they have, and I don’t know if I’ll ever blog about it, but to give you a hint, there are some people in this world who are only happy when they make everyone else around them miserable. It’s hard to hate those people, because they’re so pathetic. I mostly pity them. Mostly.