Ok, so I’m going to tell you (all 4 of you) about my new gig.
First, a clarification…it’s not that I wasn’t telling anyone because I was trying to be a dick because we all know that I never have to try to be a dick. I just wake up and…BAM!!…I’m a dick. Instead, I actually was trying to decide what I could tell you without saying something I shouldn’t.
See, there’s a level of confidentiality involved here at my new place. So while I’m not necessarily privy to where they’re keeping the alien bodies from the Roswell UFO crash, I do have access to information that my new employer would prefer I not give out…even to people as awesome as yourselves.
Please understand that I don’t tell you this because I think it’s cool, or because I’m full of myself…I actually think it’s a big pain in the ass, but such is life.
So the skinny on the new job is this…essentially, I’m tracking gas turbine parts and determining the lifespan of those parts.
Every part in a turbine is individually numbered and every part is tracked from one turbine to another. So that at any time I can tell where a part is, how long it’s been in service, how many times it’s been repaired, where it’s been, and whether or not it’s currently in use somewhere.
Now imagine if you will, a gas turbine…think about how complicated those things must be. Now multiply that level of complication by a factor of four and that’s how complicated those things really are.
After my first three weeks I’ve come to a sobering conclusion…I just thought I paid attention to stuff before. At the risk of sounding like a commercial for MTV’s This is the Diary of…, I thought I knew but I had no idea.
I will say that it’s a nice change of pace to look at the clock and say:
“Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick! Is it really 2:45 already? I get to go home in an hour and 15 minutes!”
As opposed to:
“Fuck me. It’s only 8:45…will someone shoot me in the back of the fucking head already and make this nightmare end?”
I’m also working with a group of people who all genuinely dig what they’re doing and are sincere in making sure I have complete access to the vast amounts of knowledge they have available. And I seem to be doing really well to boot…or at least my trainer is telling that I’m doing very well.
But the greatest thing about my new gig is what I was told on my very first day…
It doesn’t matter how fast it gets done. It only matters that it’s right. There’s no deadline here, so things take as long as they take.
Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear those words uttered in respect to my job? Here’s a little hint for you…it’s in the neighborhood of about twelve years. And yes, that’s the exact number of years I was at CCM for those of you “not in the know”.
And the second best thing about my new gig? The hours.
I asked what my hours were, and I was told “eight”. See, they don’t care when I come in, as long as I work eight hours. I can come in at 7am, take an hour and a half lunch everyday, and no one would give a shit as long as I worked my expected eight hours.
So right now I’m going in at 7:30 and getting off at 4pm every…single…fucking…day and It’s glorious. The clock hits 4pm, and I turn off my shit, push in my chair, walk the fuck out to my car, and come home through absolutely zero traffic on Woodruff Road.
I can make fucking plans again people! I can say, “Hey Sappy Chick, why don’t we meet at Monterey at 4:15, go shopping and then catch a movie?” and I never have to worry about whether or not I’m going to have to work late, or whether some inconsequential fucking nothing of a newsletter “absolutely must go to print/fax tonight”.
It’s a revealtion for sure, and it’s sweet validation for something I’ve said for years. Please allow me to quote myself from my very own “Quotable Cinlach” section:
Me : There’s no reason why I shouldn’t be able to work my alloted time and just go home. I can still be a productive, important, and contributive employee under those circumstances. If not then the fault lies with the company and their philosphy and not with me and mine. People do it everyday, all throughout not only our country but the entire world. Everyone knows it works, so why doesn’t it do so here?
Well guess what boys and girls…it does work and I’ve found the proof that it does. Not every place in the world makes you work 9 hour days three weeks out of the month along with 3 Saturdays every single month.
I can actually come home and do stuff around the house without rushing to fix dinner and then crashing into a heap. I’m living again…and I’d nearly forgotten what that was like. I have time to do laundry again for fuck’s sake. It’s 9:45 and I’ve been home almost 5 hours instead of only 2 and a half…I cannot stress how awesome this is.
I don’t dress like a bum every day, I wear nice clothes, and I shave…I actually fucking shave EVERY SINGLE MORNING people.
So I guess if I had to sum up my new gig in one succinct little word, then that word would be “liberating”.
I can only hope that everyone else ends up as lucky as it seems I’ve ended up, because being liberated is a magnificent fucking thing.
