I like my job. I like the people I work with, I like the work I do, I feel I am fairly compensated, benefits are good. I don't like commuting, but I figure I can't have everything.Job satisfaction, on average, starting Monday, January 7th: 10%
Oh wow. I think I hate my job. I was hired to work 8-4:30. The several times that my superiors have approached me about extending my hours until 5 I have made very clearly known my distaste. I've gone so far as to say, "I never would have accepted a position in Oroville with 8-5 hours. I was hired to work until 4:30." I've also said, "My number one priority in my whole life is my son, and if I have to work until 5, that's going to put him in daycare for almost 11 hours a day, and that is fundamentally unacceptable to me." And yet, despite what I feel are clear and loud protestations on my part, effective January 7th, my job is 8-5 with an hour for lunch. I do not need an hour in Oroville to have my lunch. Not only that, I already have an enormous amount of guilt and angst and unhappiness about how little time I spend with my son. Dumping an hour and a half onto the amount of time he's spending with strangers is. not. okay. So great. I now officially hate my job. My job that I liked. My job that I found to be, on some level at least, intellectually stimulating. My job where I thought the company cared about its employees. Obviously, the company does not care about its employees. If the company cared even a little tiny bit, then when I was standing there with tears in my eyes telling them that I really, truly, could not work until 5, because that was unacceptable, they may have listened. They are officially fuckers.So. I moved to Chico. I stayed in Chico so that K and Gabriel could have a chance at a solid relationship. K has spent the last nine months or so SUCKING AT LIFE, culminating with the fact that HE moved out of the area. But, I think to myself, at least I like my job, so I'll stay here for now anyways, because it's hard to find a job that you like.
Well. Fuck that.