Yes, I’m still alive.
Do I love it? Somewhat. I really like the (majority of) people I work with and the agency does good work. The day is never boring.
Do I not-love it? Somewhat. The bureaucracy, the politics, the mostly reception-type duties/lack of a challenge.
Overall, I’m waiting for something to go wrong. To screw up. I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing. I’m frustrated that the person who ‘trained’ me hasn’t armed me with all the information I need to do the job. Which leaves me in the position of having to ask her for help when I’m sure I wouldn’t need to do if she didn’t hold information so close to her chest. The purpose of this action is, I’m sure, to make me look and feel stupid.
I think that, overall, I just need to remind myself that it is just a job. It pays the bills, it occupies me for 40 hours a week. I’m enough removed from our clients to not have to personally worry about evictions and CAS involvement while still getting the feeling I’m contributing and connecting to clients. I’m not looking to climb a ladder or go places. For the time being (and I don’t see this changing), I need the better part of my focus and attention and energy and resources to go towards parenting The Mook. I hope to blog about The Mook sometime soon, but you’ll notice it’s taken about two months for me to even talk about The Job.
So, since the work piece is sorted, I just have to get on some other things to round out my life. Namely…it’s been a year since I went on a date or got laid.