of Life in the Suburbs of a Small City
It's been a few months since my last blog entry...I think July. It's amazing the kind of distractions that can pull a man away from the things he thinks are important.
Let's see. My wife and I moved into our new house, after last minute problems with the loan (termed such out of courtesy for the younger readers, as "financial raping" would perhaps require the Adult Content box to be checked), and last-second problems with our builders, and ongoing problems with our insurance agent. Ahh, the joys of home-buying, the kind of punishment that should be reserved for the vilest of perpetrators. I remember thinking as the process bore on that all those who told me that it was a stressful experience must have just had some poorly-timed misfortune; now I think my story might even top theirs. But alas, that's a story for another day, and another entry.
Shortly after taking up residence in our new home (which, by the way, we really do love, despite the grey hairs and ulcers that came with it), I was offered a promotion where I work. I gladly accepted; after all, I had been bucking pretty hard for one for a couple of years now. The pay hike was welcome, as was the prestige. And the whole mortgage experience wasn't enough; I figured I needed a real challenge. So I left a comfortable world where I directly impacted the performance and training of 15 to 20 employees to a strange and bizarre new one, about which I know next to nothing, and wherein I am responsible for the performance and training of nearly 50, and ultimately accountable for the behaviors of 120.
Perhaps the biggest adjustment is moving from the world of the hourly employee to that of the salaried. I have grown accustomed over the last decade-and-a-half to spending somewhere between 35 and 40 hours a week at my place of employment. And if I took the initiative to do some work from home, I've never been shy about turning in a time sheet for however long I toiled in front of this machine. And the rare occasions I was permitted to accrue Overtime, it was at most six or seven hours; and that time-and-a-half always seemed extra-special. But oh, how the salaried world is different. I put in 72 hours this past week alone, and that just counts the time actually spent in the building. Add at least another ten or so for work done from here at home. And it will be at least four or five more days before I get one off, and I'm starting to realize that that probably won't happen either. Funny how the term "Overtime" has been wiped from my mind like some Orwellian revisionist dictionary; the paycheck will be the same as if I'd worked 45 hours (the standard expectation for my position). That can be a little depressing.
Don't get me wrong: I love my job, and I'm really enjoying the challenge. But the adjustment is a difficult one. There are some days when I question my decision. Most days I don't even have time to...
I find it amazing how perspectives change with things like these, too. My concepts of perseverance, permanence, and commitment have strengthened and solidified since we've invested in this house. And my understanding of responsibility, of my own personal impact on the lives of my employees, has grown by leaps and bounds. I find myself more seriously considering things that took only a second to decide just a few months ago. My vision has expanded to encompass much more of the "big picture" scenarios. I literally constantly evaluate and re-evaluate my mood and bearing, since so many people now seem to take their cues for behaving and feeling from me.
More than anything, though, I feel the time slipping away. I survive on fewer than 5 hours of sleep a night now. Not because I can’t sleep, or because I’m at work so long it’s all time I have between shifts (that does happen occasionally, but my boss isn’t quite that evil). No, it’s because I still have to eek out a few hours of “me” time each day—time to browse the net, play a little Xbox, read something totally non-constructive, take in a bit of mindless television dribble. If I can’t grab at least some of this time each day, I feel I’ll lose some part of myself that’s somehow important to my identity.
And since I must be off to work in a few hours, I’ll wrap this up and bid adieu.