Just a quick one tonight, expressing good news: they’re making me permanent in my current job, despite some prior uncertainty, and not only will I be getting a steady salary rather than weekly wages, but I’ll also receive health benefits (to the point that I wonder if the Conservatives will label me a scrounger?), meaning I won’t have to pay for dental checkups and treatment, and will receive a contribution towards gym membership (which in my case, of course, means the Castle).
It’s fascinating to think just how far I’ve come, from the days late last year and early this year when unemployment or being jerked around made me fervently wish I’d never even tried to get into IT and had instead saved my money, fought to keep my role at Camden, and spent my life doing something relatively high-paid but mind-numbing. The most important thing to note is that I’ve got a very different attitude these days, and indeed I surprise myself at how patient I am with the staff whose IT problems I troubleshoot on a daily basis — I’ve evolved from a snappy, arrogant intellectual trapped in a dead-end clerical job into a caring, approachable IT guru who’s finally begun the career he should have had years ago.
(Ten years ago, perhaps? Can I be 28 again?)
It’s very likely that St. John’s wort helped me get this far, by helping me to suppress my anxiety and thus get my foot in the door; I reckon my circumstances are sufficiently better now that I don’t need the happy pills any more, and so I’m going to get off them, though I’ll keep a supply handy in case the darkness returns. However, now that the clocks have gone back, it’ll be lighter in the mornings and thus I’ll find it easier to drag my carcass (or the last three letters) out of bed!
I’ve already changed a great deal this year, getting rid of loads of clutter and moving from posters to proper canvas (and other) art on my walls. I’ve also got plans to leave this house, which has been more of a chrysalis, and get a mortgage at long last, even if I have to take my mother on as a lodger. I’m a lot more grown-up than I’ve been in the past, and the fact that I read Judge Dredd comics at night time and watch Science Ninja Team Gatchaman on the Tube doesn’t detract from my newfound maturity: the most adult decision I’ve taken recently was to speak to my boss about having been offered a job elsewhere, to make it clear I would rather stay where I was — a place in which I’m comfortable and have forged relationships — than throw it all away and start my third job in one year.
Yes, I’d had an interview this week: it was in an organisation on Whitehall* that didn’t particularly appeal to me, even if it would have been permanent from the start rather than after a month or two as a contractor. My memories were still too fresh of that shift-based job I started last November, where “permanent” translated into “trapped”! My boss said she’d been planning to tell me I was being made permanent anyway, so perhaps all I did was cause her to bring forward the announcement… or perhaps I made her realise that she risked losing me, and thus she forced the issue with HR. Either way, I’m being made permanent at a place I like, so who cares?
(* No, not governmental, though its 1970s incarnation is visible in the background as John Cleese strides up Whitehall in the famous “Ministry of Silly Walks” sketch!)
All I need now is a girlfriend, and I’m all set… it’s high time I wrote that blog post about the kind of woman I want to find, isn’t it?