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The funk

Woe is me, for I am in a funk.

I should be in a great mood, because for the first time since I quit my job to go to law school, I have an office. Yes, it is true - an office. With a door. And I'm the only one that sits in it.

BUT.

The new building our company moved into has four floors. The rest of my team is on the third floor. Some of my team members, people who have less experience than I do, who started after me, blah blah blah whatever it is, have window offices there. I'm on the first floor, in a center office with a door that opens up to... a blank wall. On the other side of the wall is the storage closet.

(I realize this is incredibly, horribly shallow. Wah I want a better office is a bratty thing to be writing about, because people are unemployed all over the place and losing their houses and their kids are hungry. But I am about as shallow as a small pond, and this is my blog, and this is what I have existential crises about.)

I KNOW that I shouldn't feel slighted by this office thing. I have an office! I should be excited! But it all feels so stupid. Like, I work like crazy for my former employer, I feel trapped and like I am standing on the edge of an abyss when I think about doing it for another 30 years, I quit to go to law school, and here I am again. I spend a substantial amount of time talking to screaming assholes about claims that aren't even mine, because other people won't call their clients back and I was "chosen" to do this. Because I am so "special."

I am special all right. I am eating-the-paste special for believing it and for thinking it might get me something more than shit work. Blah. See? I have The Funk.

I'm going to go turn on some loud music and cook something.

Full post as published by My So-Called Internet-Based Life on August 30, 2009 (boomark / email).