Thursday, June 21, 2007

Just When I Thought It Was Safe to Be Content

I have developed a rather nasty habit in life. Whenever I feel like calm might enter my world, I get a little twinge in the back of my head. The twinge is a slight bit of doubt that at any moment everything could go to shit, and my calm will evaporate in an instant. I can usually ignore the twinge and chock it up to neurosis, then I have a day like today, and in an instant my calm evaporated.

I started what I thought was an amazing job just a little under two weeks ago. I was hired to a management level position with a company that produces auctions for non-profits. Since this is the work I've been doing for the past 5 years, I was psyched. It was right up my alley, the company was filled with people my age with similar family situations, the owners of the company seemed like they really were into treating their employees well, and all was right with the world.

They asked me to start right in the thick of their busiest time of the year. In my first week, I put in 60 hours over 6 days. Nothing out of the ordinary for this seasoned events person, it was my world, and I was happy to jump in with both feet. The bad thing was that I had barely left my other job, and with the move, I was one tired lady.

This week was a little bit lighter, but still has me booked to the tune of 50 hours. 'No big deal' I thought, because there is always a learning curve, and if I'm going to be producing events I need to see how this company does their events. The downside is that I'm exhausted, and I haven't seen a lot of Jeff nor Rachael.

I left a little early yesterday to go look at a townhouse, after making sure all of the events were current. My twinge began screaming this morning when I was called into the boss' office and told that the office hours were 8:30 AM to 6:00 PM, no exceptions. Originally they told me that they gave comp time for extra hours worked. I thought it might be hour for hour, or at worst 30 minutes per hour worked. I was told that for every three events I get one day off. In other words, I could do three Saturday events that stretch into 16-hour work days, and get one measly day off.

I spent the rest of today feeling like I wanted to cry. Years ago I worked for a concert promoter that ran me into the ground. I promised myself after that experience that I would never sacrifice myself for a job, and now that I have a child I really don't feel like giving my life to someone for a mediocre salary.

When I'm at work, I'm a complete superfreak. I outwork everyone around me, and catch on to new things quickly. For fuck's sake I taught myself PhotoShop and In Design! I'm willing to work when there is something to do, but when there isn't I'm not going to warm a seat and stare at a computer screen. I'm not a clockwatcher and I don't work hourly, that's why I'm a manager as opposed to an assistant or a coordinator.

Tomorrow I'm taking the bull by the horns, going into the boss' office and telling him that if I can't take 30 minutes in the morning to drop my kid off to catch the bus to daycamp, even though I will be working until midnight on a weekend, then I'm not the gal for them.

I usually try to tell myself that everything happens for a reason, but I feel like someone punched me in the face. Things will turn out the way they turn out, but unfortunately this time, the twinge was right.

3 comments:

FOUR DINNERS said...

We can be exhausted together!!

Your health and family always come first babe. You know that. Go see him and draw up the ground rules.

Fingers n toes crossed for you but if he won't see it your way it'll only get worse so better you know now and can act accordingly.

Good luck x

hey! You want union representation? Wonder if the T&GWU would pay for my flight? mmm...maybe not. Nice thought though....

alice, uptown said...

Who was it who said that 90% of live consisted of just showing up? Sounds like you have one of those jobs where you're never going to be commended (or given a reprieve in terms of comp time or cash) for being productive.

The 40-hour work week may be last century's model, but I see no reason to meddle with that. Embrace it. Remind your boss (assuming you even stay there) that you are a much better worker when you use your time to accomplish a project than when s/he needs you as face time.

No matter what the gig pays, as they say, no one ever said on her deathbed that she didn't spend enough time in the office. Hold onto your priorities -- they're important.

Anonymous said...

Mel, Okay. So did you make your point with your bosses and are you still there?
Aunt Elaine