I went to my dream job

on

Answering the phone.

Answering the phone.

Answering the phone.

You know what I need? A job where I’m the boss. I need to know what’s going on, and if I have a hand in
it, I need to be able to choose how I want it to go. What I choose means a lot.

I need to answer the phone and I need to answer the emails. Now. This. Forever.

But there’s a problem. My schedule can only allow so many hours to answer phone calls, answer
emails, and…work.

Then I remembered. My schedule was wrong. My schedule was broken.

“Do you want a job?” asked the man at the desk.

I didn’t.

“Do you want a job?” asked the man behind the desk.

“Yes,” I said.

“Do you want a job?” he asked back.

“No,” I said.

“Do you want a job?” he asked again.

“No.”

But that’s what I was told to ask, and the answer should be no. That’s what I needed to do in order to get my dream job. It was my job to answer the phone. My job to answer the emails. My actual job was to answer the phone and answer the emails.

But I didn’t. Instead, I told my boss I didn’t want a job. I had a job, it was just that I didn’t want to continue working there.

Answering emails.

Answering emails.

Answering emails.

He said he understood, but that’s not what he said. I had been told to ask a specific question, and he said he understood. What he said was, “you can quit anytime.”

“What?”

“Yes,” he said. “You can quit whenever you want. You can quit at any point. The only reason we offer a job with a defined work day is because we know that you will be here until that time.”

“What does that mean?”

He told me I should leave.

“But they need me,” I persisted. “And so does my cat. And so does this cup on the counter here. The only reason my boss was willing to give me a job is because those are people at who need me. That is what I wanted. An actual job.”

My boss said I could quit whenever I wanted to.

“I’m the only thing keeping my company afloat,” I said. “My employer is going under. The only reason I’m here is because I was the only thing keeping them afloat. My job is to answer the phone, answer emails, and work. I don’t have a job there, I have a job here.”

“You could quit anytime,” he said.

“Well then,” I said. “You’re going to have to give me a time.”

“You don’t know how much this company has invested in me,” I continued. “Don’t try and tell me it’s all worth nothing because you can quit whenever you want.”

“I can give you two weeks,” he said.

“Two weeks? Are you kidding me?”

“The last person to quit did two weeks. The last person to quit did two weeks. So, it is your choice. If you want to quit, this is the only time you get to do it. If you want to work here, this is the only time you get a chance to work here.”

Two weeks? Is it even a two minute time? Three hours? Three days? Four days? Five days? A little less than a month?

I was given a two-hour time to leave. Two hours to leave and two minutes to realize I have no reason to work.

I was given a two-hour time to find a way to work and two minutes to find a way to spend that four hours.

I was given a two-hour time to run away. Two hours to run and two minutes to realize I have no reason to run.

I’ve got to be honest, I did two hours, but on the first day I woke up angry.

I am what I do, and I will be what I am.

That is what I did.

I realized I was angry and I realized that no one gives two-hour time like they would give three-day time. “Work for me, or don’t work at all.” I have no idea whether one workday is a good enough time. No one knows that except for me.

I think people are smart enough to know that, and they need a reason to work. The problem is, it’s too important to tell people about their responsibility. I need you to tell me that I have a responsibility to my employer. I need you to tell me that I am the person who needs to be in charge, and that I need to be in charge for my whole life. I need you to tell me this because until I am, I am not happy. I need you to tell me this so I will do nothing. You need to tell me so I will stop being angry.

To not work is to not be angry, and it is to be happy. I’ve worked in a few places, and they all had workdays where I couldn’t go in. Those workdays, I was still angry and I still felt like I didn’t matter. I know I wasn’t angry because I had worked hard. I know I wasn’t angry because I made great money. I’m not angry because my boss yelled at me, I’m angry because he told me I don’t matter. He told me I don’t matter because I’m a woman. He told me I don’t matter because I don’t like being told who I am. He told me I don’t matter because I was going to be fired and he knew it.

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