So last week, I went back to
work. Temporarily.
As the culmination of a
freelance assignment I’ve been working on for over a month, I spent two days
“on-site.” In other words, I put on my big-girl panties, my dressy work clothes,
high heels, and waddled my butt onto to a bus and into the big city for two
days of real, honest-to-God work. Just like a normal person with a job does. So
there I was, surrounded by all the other blank-faced employed people as they scurried to
their desks, cash registers, service shops, or wherever they go to earn money.
It felt strange and
wonderful; stressful and busy, overwhelming and nostalgic. Yes, nostalgic,
because it reminded me of a life I once had and may never have again. I was
once an employed person. Now I’m not.
And a life I’m not sure I
want anymore. As I hustled to the job, nearly crashed into by people too
self-involved to see me coming, I thought, do I really want to go back to this?
Do I want to live at the whim of a boss who’s nice to me one day and then
raging the next? Do I want to work with co-workers who pretend to be my BFF and
then stab me in the back to save their own job? And do I want to come into work
everyday wondering if a group of managers who barely know my name have decided in
some gruesome closed-door meeting that my position no longer fits in their
grand business scheme? Pack up your desk
and leave… And the commute? Let’s not go there, shall we. Sheesh! On the
first day, I waited 45 minutes for my bus!
Do I want to continue to be
one of the thousands of workers who everyday prostrate their souls for the
Greater Corporate Good?
That may be a bit too harsh.
When I completed my two days of work, I was reminded of how we need to work. Not just for the money
that buys us shelter and food and the things that make our lives worthy,
whether that be travel or clothes or jewelry, but for the sense of
accomplishment we feel when we finish a project, close down shop for the day, or
fix that engine. That’s a powerful and necessary emotion for us humans, one
that can’t be diluted by nasty co-workers or duplicitous managers.
That’s how I felt as I
walked home the second day when my work was completed. Oh, I felt the quality
of my work could have been better, but I always feel that way. But I signed on
to do a job, and I did it. For that I feel satisfaction and yes, even a modicum
of pride. It’s also good to know that after being tossed aside by two former
employers and well into my second stretch of long-term unemployment, I can
still do the job. That made me feel good.
No comments:
Post a Comment