Good ole work.

4 Feb

Ugh. Today is one of those days when I am so frustrated and fed up with work that I fantasize about marching into Phil’s office and saying “I quit.” No 2 weeks. No explanation. (But maybe a few cuss words). Just walk out of here, home free.

But I can’t do that. We need my salary right now. I mean, I guess we could manage without it but things would be tight, especially with Travis in grad school. (Darn those higher learning expenses!)

It’s not that I don’t like my job, per se. I like what I do. I like marketing, I like my responsibilities, I like that I get to do a lot of different things, things that I wouldn’t get to do if our company was bigger (like graphic design and HTML coding). But I don’t like the atmosphere. I don’t like the leadership (or lack of it). There’s no room to grow. There’s no encouraging creative thinking. People like me just do what we’re told to do.

That’s why it throws me for a loop when my boss asks me to give him graphics and images that could represent the feel/tone of our next tour. Why I’m so confused when he asked me to work with the marketing consultants to get our website for the previews up and running.

WHAT?!?!?

You mean, you’re asking me to come up with something… on my own?

Not only does that curveball cause me to switch my train of thinking totally (from being reactive to being proactive), it also causes me to do work I think is pointless. 2 1/2 years at this job has shown me that I am directed from the top. Any spark of inspiration is snuffed out by the powers that be.

Maybe it’s the pain of being a small organization.

But just maybe it’s the pain of being with this small organization.

There are days when I enjoy my job. Those are the days when everyone lets me be, when I can do my responsibilities without these crazy notions of creation and strategy thinking intruding on my mind-numbing tasks. When I don’t have to write marketing copy. When I don’t have to envision which tab should go where on our website. I can copy and paste HTML code for emails to my heart’s content.

Most days, it’s really not this bad. But some days, it’s worse. I have had countless raving, cursing arguments with the air on my lunch hour at home. I have imagined emotional jabs, smart retorts and passionate (but true) diatribes.

But alas, none of that has actually happened. I am still here, seething in my desk chair, hacking away on my computer, just like I will be tomorrow.

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