I resigned on the 7th. I felt a great weight lifted. I was promised a career job, but that’s not what happened. Instead I was used up and burned out like all the the other coordinators. my boss actually tried to pull the I was going to let you go anyway card. What a fucker! He came in the next day and backpedaled like a drowning jellyfish. Spineless, yes, unless he feels threatened.
I feel lied to. Betrayed. Foolish. But I have to remember why I took the job in the first place. It was a stepping stone. A good thing for my resume, because lets face it, 15 years of working for yourself and not much to show for it, well… not so easy to sell. The thing is, I have no idea what the fuck is coming for me next.
Lets get back to the point though. After all this is a blog based on my bipolar disorder. I had a major event in April. Two weeks up and two weeks down. The up was triggered by el Hefe handing over the first conference meeting to me the moment of. No warning, no getting together beforehand to discuss the expectations of me taking over. No agenda prepared by myself. So, I immediately did what I always to… take over. Nice.
In retrospect I should have tossed that right back at him, but I did two months later when he pulled the same shit. Unfortunately (or fortunately) I did speak up. I chucked the papers on my desk that he gave me, telling me I was in charge of yet another thing, and told him no way. There were 5 people in the room and I just reamed him out. You could have heard a pin drop after that. Insubordination would now be in my personnel file I guess. Ha-ha. At that time I think I already knew I was out of there. The conference went well, despite the fact that I did the job of 4 people this year. I alway love seeing my third favorite doc after all. Mmmm…
TBC…