****You talked me into it. Per popular demand, this is now a caption contest. Winner gets a prize.**** Can’t wait to see what you come up with. 🙂
Not life. Not spirit. Not soul. My job. I quit my job and I have no regrets.
No job is perfect, there are always little things here or there that could change. Sometimes workers might not see the “big” picture that a company does. One particular way is not always the best way and we have to rely on management, trusting they know what is best, for the smoothness of the company operation. It takes a lot of confidence knowing it’s not just you, but your moral character that is employed.
There was a time that a past job I had WAS near perfect. You can ask any former co-worker (not then of course) but NOW, now they will tell you. It was a great place. We had it perfect. Don’t know what you got til it’s gone kinda of thing (or sold in our case).
Regardless of what is or isn’t, what you know or don’t. There is something to be said for being with a company for over eleven years. A loyalty that is bred deep into the bones. It would take a lot to shake that. Maybe it would take promises of a BETTER place. A place more perfect, like the one you had before it was sold. Maybe it would take more money. More promises of freedom vs. conformity like you had at – said perfect job.
What if you were tempted and torn? A single parent. Extra income would sweeten the deal. Possibly even make you give up 26 days of vacation a year (which negates the income but I digress..). Maybe the premise of better job performance, more flexibility, friendlier staff, more rewards, and more recognitions might sway. Trips to Vegas. Diamonds. Cash. Maybe that would be enough to give something up you are completely happy with. And not just a promise for the better, but elite. Best of the best. Top of the line. How impressive and humbling to be recruited by a company like that.
Whatever the case, whatever sales pitch you receive, in the end, it’s YOUR decision to change after eleven years. Maybe you chose WRONG. Maybe the siren promises were just a mirage. Maybe you knew immediately your idea of customer service, the one ingrained from day one of your career, twenty years ago, is not the same as theirs. Maybe you don’t fit in with the elite, and never will. Maybe you start to question your own ability that you had been so confident of your whole working life. You lose your health. You lose your concentration. Your desire. Your will. Your drive. You feel like a worse worker because of your surroundings, and endless inefficiencies pointed out over and over.
Misconceptions. Misleads. The question remains, how could it go so wrong? How could you be so convinced (by others) you were perfect, and then be consistently torn down (by the same people)? It steals your livelihood, and starves the life force. It withers. It doubts. It dies. A desperate, flailing need to make sense of the insensible attacks. A perplex yearning to understand the call of profit over customer satisfaction in a no-matter-what frenzy. What if it questioned your personal integrity? Your life long need to fulfill the duty of responsible business.
The new job platform that supported and showcased your job talents is shaky. Building blocks are constantly moved, shifting around creating rifts, and unsteady ground. Earthquakes, and Tsunamis – implementation and change – invoke natural disasters from poor planning, and poor execution, that most can’t or won’t deal with, regardless if it’s part of service.
A flat-out refusal to adhere to the respect and vision of management. How long would it take to adjust to such major changes and eruptions? How can the pieces ever go together again quite right? How in the world do you stay steady and strong in such a volatile environment? It could take years of balancing, or years of building a new platform to withstand such battering. If someone is willing to take the time and dedication, that is, but most employees won’t. They refuse. They find it easier to sift through the rubble than learn a new craft.
Tell me something? How long did it take you to get skilled, REALLY skilled at a completely new job. One year? Two? I don’t mean you know what to do. I mean you master it and you are taught it and schooled in it. If you are completely saturated in that ONE skill. Maybe a year?
But what if it’s random? What if your training is hit or miss from day-to-day or week to week? Self-taught in stolen snatches. How long then? Two years? What if the main trainer doesn’t WANT you to know it well (or doesn’t know it well themselves). Maybe they do, and they’d rather be the knowledge holder, lest you learn it better, and show them up.
What if you are told that you will NEVER be forgotten for stepping up to the plate, completely out of your comfort zone, for the sake of the company, only for the same incredibly grateful person to forget it a year later? Would the time spent have been worth it? The tremendous effort it took when no one else would. You didn’t have the proper training, proper support, nor the tools, yet you still pursued to perform, driven by customer courtesy. Yet, despite all that, you were told to just walk away and go back to the rubble. Walk away from a service that truly serves the customer.
You can’t imagine the relief in a clients voice when they call and don’t have to be transferred around to the “right” person. ONE person can help them. How much value is that? To satisfy a customer? Is there a NUMBER you could put on that? For me personally, I HATE being transferred several times. When I want help….I want help! What irks me more? Having to be called back. It’s rarely timely, and rarely a time that is timely for me.
The little things make a difference. The right support makes a difference. The right environment, work ethics, and management make a difference. Respect makes a difference. Visions make a company. Worth, and appreciation build. Learning from mistakes grows. Polishing of skills smooths. Astounding support, and encouragement go a long way. I never doubted my skills. I never doubted the fire to satisfy and go above and beyond for an account, even if it took learning a whole new system. I never considered it wrong. And I
wouldn’t couldn’t consider it any other way.
Now more than ever I know. I know exactly how NOT to be. I had excellent examples in each case. I am more firm and confident than ever in the merit that I uphold to serve my company and clients in the highest regard possible. Any less is not an option.
So I choose a new place, one more suited to my needs, desires, and character. One that blesses and benefits – justly and fairly. One that believes in team work for a client’s cause. But as I go, I bid you to look at the big picture. To look beyond a number. To find true benefit in actions. To give honorable service that exceeds and succeeds.
And to my old “new” job. It is SO good to be home. Two years is too long. I’m honored and thrilled you would welcome me back with open arms. Just give me a few weeks to recoup, and I’ll return refreshed and renewed with all my heart in servitude.
Names have not been used to protect the sanctity of company identity. This is a personal opinion based on personal experience and observations. It does not reflect, nor refer to any source other than personal thoughts. My perception, not fact, and not to be used as indicators of any factual knowledge.
Thank goodness, my fingernails are chewed short, otherwise I’d look like I got into a fight with a couple of cats and LOST. I’ve got a tube of Cortaid in one hand. The other hand is scratching away, like an old mangy dog.
Seriously, I have NO idea what is wrong with me. I thought it might be the new bottle of soap I got at Costco. It’s Neutrogena brand, possibly I’m allergic to an ingredient used in it’s making, or maybe even my detergent. I checked and I didn’t buy the clear brand. It was a lavender fragrance.
However, my HEAD is also itching. I KNOW I didn’t put detergent, nor body wash on my head. Surely, I’m not turning into the bubble kid. I’ve been working out. Am I, all the sudden, allergic to my sweat?
Tuesday night, I was itching so incredibly bad, I am sure other students in Italian class were happy to be sitting away from me. I was using my black ball point pen. I’d unclick the ink and and scrape with the metal tubing. Arms, legs, then back. One time I forgot to unclick the pen and had black marks all up and down my arm. How embarrassing!
Sometimes, there are tiny bumps, like really small ant bites, but mostly nothing at all. Just bright red squares of skin, irritated by fingers clawing it. I even woke up digging at my back in my sleep.
I thought, at first, it might be dry skin. I bought some Aveeno intense body cream. You know what? It hasn’t helped either. Twelve bucks down the drain.
My last resort is Benadryl, and I do mean last. Benadryl turns me into a monster. Seriously, like my mother when we were little and she’d wake up from her nap. Angry, crazy-eyed, and on the war path. (shudder)
I wish I could say the itching was isolated to a certain place, but it’s not. Just today, here is how it went. Woke up with my lower back itching. Then, my arms were itching. Since I’ve been at my desk, my arm, left hand, left ear, right inner elbow, left side neck, and right side head have been on fire. It stings they itch so bad.
Do you feel like you have bugs crawling on you? Poison ivy? Ants in your pants? I do. I need some major itchy owie or a day in an oatmeal bath.
So, don’t mind me, apparently I’m allergic to AIR. At least typing keeps my fingers busy.
If you have secret remedies, please share. I am about five seconds away from checking myself into the funny farm.
Well, hairy for me, hairy for my hair designer, and a little hairy for the floor. Heh.
Ooops, looks like my hair fell off.
Actually, I got my hair cut and I do mean CUT. It wasn’t an accident or anything, I had planned on going shorter. My hair was a little past shoulder length with long layers. This hair designer named Lori works in Fort Worth. She has a lot of high end clients. I used to go see her for years and years until I moved away to Richardson and my second husband would NOT allow me to cut my hair. Not even an INCH. Yes, I know, I actually COULD have. Physically, he would have not stopped me, but the fallout would have been enormous and not something I wanted to bear, considering his normal day to day tirades were staggering. Why provoke him more? It just wasn’t worth it. So, I wore my long hair and kept the peace. I missed Lori and our gossip hair sessions.
Luckily, we stayed in touch. She would still call me to book her airline tickets. She is not computer friendly and has the least idea of how to do it herself. I am happy to do it for her. She is like family to me. So, after two airline tickets this year, she insists on granting me a FREE cut. She knows I have a friend at Church who does my hair, but was VERY insistent that she HAD to pay me back. I finally relented. You can’t beat FREE.
Now, I am blessed with thick, slightly wavy hair. Not cutting it for years, while married to my second husband, made for a HEAVY curtain of hair. I have to tell you, a few months after I moved out, I CUT it off and it was very freeing. I still wonder why I didn’t cut it off the DAY after I moved out. All I can say is, the day I did, was a HUGE step in healing.
Since then, I am positive that HAIR and HIDING are tied. The more hair you hide under, the less in touch you are with yourself, and who you are. Honestly, the most confident , self-sufficent women I know have short hair. I mean REAL confidence not the for show stuff. Of course, there are exceptions, there are always exceptions. I absolutely planned on growing out my hair. Long hair is very beautiful. Jason said he likes it longer and I really wanted to but (sorry hun), I just couldn’t do it. *too frickin’ heavy*
It’s so short and sassy now. I can barely make a pony tail. My hair drying naturally is VERY wavy. The soft curls, not the hard spirals. I even have some bangs. It was a big change. It got me to thinking about changing and chances. How often do we take them? How often do we let them slip by? If we do take them, how does it pan out?
I’ve always been a chancer and change taker. Oh sure, it’s more comfortable to stick with what you know, but you don’t really LIVE until you just get out there and try. Once you conquer, it’s the BEST feeling in the world.
What is that adage “Do something that scares you every day“? That’s a real good one.
This is the ONE thing that scares me.
I don’t know if you’ve ever rode The Superman at Six Flags, but it’s a killer. Especially when you discover, in your late thirties, that you are not too hip about heights any longer. This ride LAUNCHES you at high speed toward the top, then it bobs you up and down like a cork (and at Universal Studios Dr. Death ride you would be done), not so on The Superman, the ride then slowly inches you higher and higher while you are trying not to think about plunging to your death, many , many stories below. breathe just breathe
At last, you are at the very tippy top of the tower of DEATH (freakin’ out) and BOOM down you go in a free fall. *aaahhhhh* I gotta tell you, it’s not my favorite ride. I hate it. Why? It scares me. *crapless* But it’s good for me to be uncomfortable. See? I didn’t DIE. I’m right here blogging about it. I rode it with Sydney the week before school started when we took off for Six Flags for the day. But guess what? I loved conquering that ride. What a rush.
So, today, I took a chance and chopped my hair off. It was scary but I’m glad I did it. It grows, just like we do, as we take chances in life. What have you got to lose, right? Go ahead take a chance and see what happens. I triple dog dare ya!