I am getting used to my new boss now. I like him very much, but as I am a moody person who needs coffee and alone time, I am confused by his strange and sparkling happiness that is always mellow and kind. I distrust such behavior as a rule and tend to think of such people as fakers.
It seems his enthusiasm is genuine. He has bestowed some nice responsibilities on me like writing fun marketing stuff and attending interesting and non-horrible events. I am getting excited about work type things. That hasn't happened in a long time. I am feeling less and less dormant.
He has not dumped crap in my lap on a Friday or called me out for things I know nothing about or suggested there is a proper way to staple paper or any of the behaviors I accepted as normal from my old boss. It is weird that as much as I prefer the new boss in almost every way, there was something very soothing about the fact that only I could stand my old boss. I felt tougher than the average girl. I think I might actually have issues I didn't know about!
My long probationary period ended months early as the new boss announced he liked me and would give me health insurance early. On the very same day I received mail from my last bleep of an employer - the one I ran away from - about benefits. It seems I wasn't removed from a mailing list.
It gave me the chills to see that letter. I thought about what I would be doing if I were still at that job. First, I would still be at work. 9 to 9 was my basic schedule. I could certainly work longer if it was required, but never shorter. I would be dressed in a designer suit, purchased by the company. I might even be on one of the auxiliary boards they so heavily recommended for me. I would be morphing into a person I don't want to me. For a while I thought I could be an event manager and party planner and avoid the mold of Gold Coast bitchery...but no one can. It is so weird to witness. I wish I could explain but after sixty hour weeks of witnessing it, I couldn't reconcile it within myself, much less explain it in words.
So, in my totally opposite direction of a new job, I tend to stick a Bic ballpoint pen behind my ear at all times. I often carry a clipboard and chat with strangers. I have taken to wearing cardigans and keeping lip gloss in my pocket. I feel like a combo of an old lady and a teenager. That feels a much more appropriate self image than some sort of glamorous city woman in stilettos. I am attending wine tastings and wearing tights again. I am leaving my suits in the closet and wearing flats every day. I am rolling my eyes in solidarity with my new coworkers and growing out the evil pixie cut. Oh, the hair is floppy and gross right now. If ever there was a hairstyle that looked pubescent, I have that. It is so fucking awkward it hurts to look at. A bobby pin and headband can try and help, but I've got to grin and bear this phase, hoping I turn out pretty. I am optimistic that if my life were a movie, this period would be the montage with catchy music. I would look frazzled but poised and before the song ended I would look around I realize I was getting to be happy again.
