Thoughts (deep and not)
I signed my offer letter and returned it yesterday. Oddly enough, I did this using the fax machine provided by the job search assistance people, which was a service paid for by my last company. I guess that's something. Of course now that I have an end to my free time, it feels like the walls are closing in. I don't hate working, especially if it means I am getting paid. I just hate starting at a new place, even if I know some of the people there. I hate new situations and feeling like I have to learn everything all over again. I've done it so many times you'd think being new would be old to me, but I just can't get used to it. I think once I am settled into my routine, it will be better.
Just before I accepted the offer, someone from another company spoke with me. He basically asked that I speak to him before I accept the offer. We had a great conversation over the phone. It turns out he works very closely with the people I will be working with. He laughed and said "Hm, I've never done an interview quite like this." He pretty much acknowledged that I would be accepting my offer. Could you imagine if I listened to the whole pitch and got an offer with this guy? I would be stepping into an office and sitting around the corner from the people I rejected. How bad would that be? He threw in "If things change and you're looking again, please consider us..." which is great. It's always a compliment when someone asks you to contact them if you need a job. It's a lifeline.
Yesterday I had to pick up some packages from the post office. Evidently, the postal person could not deliver them to the house. Never mind that I have been here for most of the day for the past month. I don't think the guy wanted to walk down to the house and ring the doorbell. i don't believe he even tried. I can't prove it, of course. So I went to get my packages from the post office. I had two messages from Amazon telling me to go, which meant there were two packages.
I walked up to the counter, and because I didn't have the slip, I just turned over my driver's license. The post-lady returned with one box and I said "Oh, I have two, actually." Why did she try to tell me this was the only one she saw (No, what happened was, she stopped when she found one box with my name because she didn't think there were more.) I said "Well, I got two messages..." (unsaid: and I'll be damned if I have to come back in a separate trip because you only found one)
"Give me that again," she said before disappearing to the back. What do you know, she found the other box. From her annoyed look, it appears she is well on her way to a lifelong career of postal disgruntled-ness.
I know that's a stereotype. I have found some happy postal people, but some are really miserable. It seems as if there is no in between. Either they are jovial or cranky. I don't get it.
In one of the boxes was a toy accordion for my daughter. She loves music and I want to expose her to some instruments. Even if she's not inclined to play anything, at least it's there and it can be fun. I know, it's a toy accordion and I'm probably going to regret buying that, but at least it's not a drum set. I tried my hand at it yesterday, and it seemed like fun.
So as my time comes to a close, I have all sorts of thoughts on ways to not be dependent on "the man" for pay. I could live off of the land in a yurt, farming what I need and being a vagabond in the colder months. It sounds sort of appealing, and some people have done this. Then one word comes to mind: Outhouse. Or, in my friend Mick's words, "Outhouse... If you're lucky, otherwise (four words): Hole-in-the-ground."
I like indoor plumbing. I like a lot of things that require some amount of money. I don't like roughing it. We had porta-potties at my work site in Korea (Army days) and there were many times I held it because I couldn't deal with the lack of flushing. How in the world would I do with a hole in the ground? So it's a trade off--I go to work and in return, I get toilets.