Bake and isolate. That’s how to make a career decision.
During Coronavirus, I have had the opportunity to do some really tough thinking about my job. Again. It seems this happens in my working life every few years. Usually I have a meltdown at work to precipitate it. This time things have been much more dignified.
During all this climate-warmed solitary confinement I have rediscovered who I wanted to be when I was little. When I thought growing up was the fairytale and mutant powers were the future.
I wanted to be a writer.
I have buried that idea for so long. Now I look back at years wasted chasing approval and reward, regard and achievement. I was a little girl running after a kite string. When I didn’t really even like the kite.
I have a day job now – have to of course even if the literary agent loves my book. No news there by the way, loyal fans.
And in that day job I have gradually been sucked into a familiar pattern. Of caring about the company’s future more than my own. Nagging the owner to do things in his best interest. Monitoring the email during evenings and weekends. Being available to make things right in a pinch.
My boss hasn’t asked me to do all that. It’s just crept over me like a suffocating blanket. If I don’t do it, who will?
Now, thanks to the pandemic I have seen daylight again; that wonderful glimpse of the blue sky between thunderstorms. And I’ve realised my fatal mistake. Caring about someone else’s dream at the expense of my own.
I have offered stepped-back services to my boss at a reduced rate if necessary. if he wants to further his career he can get up and do it himself. If he cares enough, he will. In the meantime, I want to work to live… and to write.
I’m sitting writing this on my stairs with Doggo lying beside me. My boss hasn’t replied to my offer in 24 hours now. If he doesn’t accept it I leave. Then this blog will be full of my waxing about being unemployable. And hungry.
For now though, there’s a heatwave outside and my furlough has one more week in it, and anything could happen. Even perhaps, what I want. Maybe that could be my mutant power.