In which I’m totally outta there and it hasn’t even been four days.
For some reason I got my final pay (56 hours regular, 40 vacation, and 30 severance) direct deposited almost immediately. Today my final pay stub came in the mail. My ex-employer has contacted me exactly only once to ask a question.
Wow. I guess my job really was superfluous. Either that or I left everything so well-organized that it’s totally… nah. I’m superfluous. Fucking awesome.
I need to get married and stay home and cook or something, because fuck this professional shit. I’m never going to find a part-engineering/part-data center/part-support gig ever, ever again. Such jobs don’t exist because the small ISP no longer exists. There are a couple of point-to-point wireless companies around here but I’m no longer interested in climbing ladders and towers to adjust radios after wind storms. (I mean five, ten years ago I would have been into it, but not now.) Not that either of them would be hiring anyway; they’re shrinking just like everybody else.
I’m only barely qualified to work IT at a school or hospital. I could certainly learn it all, but they generally want a couple years of managing Exchange servers and tweaking Active Directory and I haven’t had the misfortune of having to do that.
I don’t mind waitressing or working at a grocery store deli in theory, but I’m not terribly keen on standing all day or being utterly and totally trained on everything there is to know in under four weeks. I may look for some kind of office-y desk job; maybe there’s some industrial office that needs a bookkeeper/receptionist who doesn’t mind the occasional filthy joke.
Do you know I got an email only a few months ago telling me that my WorkSource account was about to expire? I had been gainfully employed for over a year so I let it go. Ugh! Now I have to rebuild my entire profile from scratch, and believe you me their data entry interface is a fucking tedious mess. Christ but resumes are a bother.
This morning I searched the JobSource website for all open jobs in Walla Walla. There are a grand total of eight. EIGHT JOBS. IN THE ENTIRE TOWN*. One of them is for a mobile phlebotomist; obviously not qualified for that. The other is RN; nope, I’m sure not a nurse. Couple of food service jobs, a trucking job… and one office job: it’s in a real estate office, and it’s a baby tier office chick position updating web sites and social media accounts and — insult to injury – it pays more than my last job did. UPLOADING PICTURES OF HOUSES AND RUNNING A FACEBOOK PAGE PAYS MORE THAN HAVING ROOT ON AN MX SERVER.
Ugh. I’m going to end up being that lady at the end of the aisle at the grocery store passing out samples of sugar-laden meatballs or some shit. Ugh!
I got bored of resume-building and went and did my taxes. I owe $91 dollars because I got a 1099-MISC from Telcentris (even though I’m really pretty sure I haven’t invoiced them since 2011 because I was working full-time at BMI all through 2012). Ugh. Ugh ugh UGH. So I either pursue a 1099 correction, or I pay the taxes, or I just leave it off my return and hope no one notices. Christ, 2013, WTF is wrong with you?
* Actually, that was a browser error – there were more like 80 after I refreshed. But I’m still not qualified for most of them because WHY DIDN’T I GO TO NURSING SCHOOL WHY WHY WHY.