Work meanderings and other babbles

I think that I have figured out why there aren’t really any work tales here. Usually my LJ/blog is filled with tales from the triumphant to the stupid (er, usually more of the stupid than anything else) as well as the usual fannish stuff, medical stuff and knitting.

I think the problem is that I’m not emotionally invested in this job.

This is not to say that I’m not doing my best or that I don’t want the job, but I don’t care about it yet.

Although I often hated my old job, often got impatient and angry at the stupidity and bureaucracy and insanity, deep down I cared about the impact of my job. I can clearly remember thinking, during my first week, that I would never care about how many cans of baked beans there were on the nation’s supermarket shelves and yet by the end I really did care.

The thing that made the difference was that the person who couldn’t find the thing they needed wasn’t some faceless stranger, it was my Mum. She was the person who would have to go to other shops, wasting precious time, because my store couldn’t supply her with the soya yoghurt and soya milk that my father uses. Making sure that the basics (and not so basics) were there became important because my mum didn’t have the time to hunt across the county for the half dozen different things she couldn’t get at the store this week.

The reason that I often got so frustrated by my old job was that it was often company policies that made my job so much harder and I knew that my work had a direct impact on the stores in the real world.

There isn’t that personal connection yet, that sense of impact if things go wrong, with this job. I’m looking forward to getting that sense because, as stressful as it could be, I think that it’s a part of what makes me good at a job.

This morning I received the letter from my new rheumy with my appointment. It is first thing in the morning on the day that the cats get spayed. I’m starting to suspect that this could be a complicated day.

There was also a message on my answer phone asking me to call my doctor’s office. I’m seeing her next week anyway, so I’m not sure why that message is there. If anything has shown up in my bloodwork, surely she’d wait until next week? Nothing can be that serious. Oh, well, I’ll call her and she can bill the government for the five minutes it takes her to tell me that my bloodwork is fine. Ho hum.

My parents arrive on Monday. I’ve kept the house tidy and clean, but I suspect that I’ll be having a cleaning frenzy anyway. The insane part of me wants to prove that I can cope perfectly on my own.

The sensible part of me knows that all I’ll achieve is lots of back pain from overdoing things, but how often do I listen to the sensible part of me?

I bought lots of sparkly decorations for the tree we will be buying when they get here. Miss Kate Crow has already decided that she likes sparkly. How is she going to cope with shiny, sparkly and lit-up?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: