Can They Do that?

My plan for the day was, get up, go to work, meet with boss, give notice I was quitting my job, eat dinner, blog about quitting my job...My plan was pretty well set and I was excited about my day.

I went to the chair of the board, letter in hand, and said I was out. I think the response was something to the effect of,

“I don't accept your resignation. You made a three year commitment and I am sure there is something we can work out.”

Huh?

Did I say I wanted to work something out? Aren’t I an at will employee?

What the hell do I do now?

In the absence of information, there is much speculation

Running a 24 hour operation means I work strange hours at time. Last night I was at work from 11pm to 7:30 am, providing some of that 24 hour coverage we have to have.

This morning, when I was coming home from work, several of my neighbors were leaving for the same. This is nothing new for any of us, and as usual, we exchanged our hellos, good mornings.

This morning, one of my older neighbors stopped me.

“You know, we have been wondering…"

huh?

“We all see you coming and going at strange hours, always dressed a different way.”

Is that some kind of crack at the bright blue socks I wore last night to keep my toes warm? Maybe it is my oversized red sweatshirt and funny colored sweatpants.

So I replied, “I have one of those jobs where I work all sorts of hours.”

“What kind of job has you working all through the night?”

Many things came to my mind at this point—police officer, fireman, 7-11 clerk. None of these would probably let me get away with my blue socks. And none of them seemed to be what my neighbor was getting at.

I told her what I do. She didn’t look convinced. I pulled out a business card. She still looked skeptical.

“Well, we are just concerned for you. For a while we weren't ever sure if you were living here. You look like a nice girl. Wouldn’t want to see a nice girl mixed up in any trouble.”

I tried to assure her as a social worker there is always trouble, but as soon as I said the word “client” that look came over her face again.

I hope she didn't hear it but it took me several mintues to stop laughing after I finally got into my apartment. It has been awhile since I have had "concerned" neighbors. Though on some level I am sure it was sweet, it was also pretty darn funny.

Who Knew?

Now I have done some stupid things in my time, like some of those concussions I have ended up with, but tonight was by far the dumbest. One of the many job perks I have it working really late at night. We have to be staffed 24 hours a day, and I, trying to be a good boss, do the overnight hours too. Tonight, after finishing most of my work, I started rifling through some donations that were sitting in my office. Computer speakers—sweet. A power cord—what, is this Christmas all over again?

Then I saw something small in the bottom of the bag. It was some sort of key chain thing. Maybe it is one of those key chain flashlights—that would be great. So I push the button to turn on the light. Only it’s not light that comes out. It is some sort of spray. The hour being late, it took several seconds for it to register that I had just released pepper spray in my office. The container still in my hand, now turned over, to expose that warning message. Well, crap. Nothing like a little coughing and choking at 2 am to really solidify the importance looking for the warning label.

My Nightmare Come True

Since I became director of the little non profit that could, I have had one nightmare, over and over. I even joked about it with my staff and clients. I never thought it would happen, and hoped and prayed just to make sure. But then there was last night. I have spent my whole day reeling from the fact that my most terrifying fear has come true.

Now that day is done and the dust has settled, I am really thinking if this is what I want. When so many of my age are looking to define their careers and futures, I am really thinking of scrapping mine. I mean, I haven’t hit 30 and I am running an non profit. What do I have left to prove? More importantly, who am I trying to prove it to? I think I may have gotten caught up in the dc game of, “what do you do and who do you work for,” as well as the competition of who can work more hours at their job? Being an adult means being responsible, but I don’t think that means I have to be sans fun? There has got to be some way to do both. I think I realized tonight that I have my big important job to fill my need to be important. And really, it doesn’t matter.

Not Funny

I have always wanted to be funny. And somedays, I do a good job. But that is more, "my life is funny," as opposed to me being creative funny. But Tom, he is creative funny. It is late, I am at work still, and laughing at Tom's musings...What if Jack Bauer ran a Starbucks?

I never knew that 1000 miles could seem so far away. True, I could be on a plane tomorrow but that doesn't do much for now. Now all I can do is pray. Please know I am doing that. I learned many things in college--one being prayer is not the least, but the most we can do for another human being. I hope he knows that too.

I didn't think it was true...

But now I have heard it several times over. Seems like a conspiracy to me...

From Eric at Red State:

The latest issue of Consumer Reports ("CR") is out....In its February 2005 issue, CR tests and rates condoms....According to CR, out of 23 condoms tests, two of the three Planned Parenthood condoms rated lowest.

I am shocked, though maybe I shouldn't be. I mean, crappy condoms do work to their advantage. It just seems so...unbelievable. And now, in print, it just seems so sad.