This has me tossing and turning at night.
(No, Lilithiel, it’s not the fire of my own tortured creative genius that keeps me up…)
There’s this paralegal job that opened up at an incredible company. I’ve joked about wanting to work there for the last ten years or more. Everyone I’ve spoken with who works there says it is a great place to work.
The position would involve work in a very interesting field (not involving injured people) and would pay the same or more than I make now. I’m qualified for the position and am confident I could nab it. If I were to paint a picture of my dream job, this would be it.
Go for it, I’ve been told. Follow your dreams. What have you got to lose?
The problem is the commute. It’s in the Bay Area, two to three hours one way. Brian thought it was great until I pointed out that no, we can’t afford to move there unless he’s going to get a job too. Housing prices are bad here; they’re worse there. A lot worse.
So I’m torn between a job that I could be completely enthusiastic about and could love going to, and losing four to six hours of my life, every day, in actually going there. Is it worth not seeing my family except on weekends?
I don’t know.
Maybe everything will fall into place at some later date.
Being a legal secretary / legal assistant / paralegal is not, and never has been, my dream career. But it is what I do. It is what I know how to do. It pays the bills.
This is an 8 to 5 job which doesn’t require me to bring work-worries home - which is the primary explanation I give people who ask me, “Why haven’t you gone to law school? You’re smart enough for it.” For some reason, “I don’t want to be a lawyer” isn’t enough for many people.
Let’s face it. Attorneys are usually utterly conceited bastards (sometimes justifiably so) who overestimate the value of their education, their knowledge, and their worth to society.* There is often a mutual feeling of barely veiled contempt between attorneys and their staff. So, I count myself lucky to get along so well with the attorney I’m assigned to.** Actually, I generally adore most of the people I work with here, and those who do annoy me, I can tolerate without snapping. Much.
I work best under pressure, so I’m happy to have the most interesting, time-sensitive, and challenging tasks in the office (firm-wide?). I’m allowed to work with minimal (if any!) direction and supervision and I am encouraged to exercise my own judgment. I’m damned good at what I do and I’m recognized by my supervisors as an expert.
I know that I’m fortunate to be where I am right now.
Image Credit: Law books on a shelf. by umjanedoan at Flickr.
*Sounds like me – maybe I should go to law school? NO.
**Having a boss who comes back from a family vacation to Disneyland and Legoland and brings you a Lego Slave I plus an Indiana Jones Lego set for your kid ROCKS. I feel guilty for not thinking about my boss on vacation.
…yeah, I went italics crazy on this post.
The good news is that I’m the firm’s Employee of the Quarter and will be for… well, the rest of the quarter, go figure. Being singled out in front of everyone at lunch today was kind of embarrassing. I got a little sarcastic when they asked for a speech. However, the recognition for my efforts, particularly in conjunction with my annual review last month, was nice.
I don’t think I work all that hard, although everyone else seems to think I do. (Work smarter, not harder, SUCKERS! ) I don’t think I’m a very good role model for other employees, as I tend to mouth off to the wrong people and scowl a lot. But I do thrive on deadlines and stress, and I usually perform well under pressure. I get along extremely well with my boss, and I usually have interesting work today.
I’m very fortunate to work with an attorney who is fun, intelligent, capable and challenging enough that I don’t get bored.
The not-so-good news is that last week, I had a consult with a specialist for some of the TMI health issues I’ve been struggling with for the past several months. The doctor had a few ideas about what could be going on, but couldn’t confirm anything until I’ve undergone an unpleasant outpatient diagnostic procedure. That’s scheduled for May 29. It will be done under conscious sedation — which is good, because I have hangups about general anesthesia. At least, after that, I’ll know what’s wrong.
Supposedly no one else knows how to do my job, not even the office manager. Nobody touched my desk when I was out sick on Friday, and as a result, three very time-sensitive files which came up on Friday and should have been completed on Friday were ignored. I spent the first half of today putting out fires, one thing after another after another after another.
After a while, it got laughable. This is the kind of stuff that makes me loathe to use vacation time, lest I come back from relaxation to wade through a river of stinking, muddy Hell.
My weekend was largely unproductive. Most of it was spent sleeping or curled up in a ball, trying to ignore pain. That sounds terribly whiny, doesn’t it? It probably is. I was very uncomfortable.
I spent a few pleasant hours in LOTRO, exploring the Misty Mountains and picking up reputation items to barter with in Rivendell. Aya watched for a while and kept telling me to throw my Elvish Hunter off a mountain. When I couldn’t find any slopes of an incapacitating height, she got bored and wandered off.
The only really productive, positive thing I did was on Saturday, when I started a few seedlings, with Aya’s help. Lettuce, watermelons, blue lake green beans, tomatoes, chard, and some dill. I’m not entirely sure where I’m going to plant them yet, but there’s plenty of time for that. It is still too close to freezing at night.
During my lucid hours, I wrapped an absolutely fail-tastic storyline. The whole storyline gave me a kind of yeurgh feeling from the start. Everyone I talked to about it thought it was just bizarre. And the other party tried to godmode, repeatedly, which I politely tried to work around. Being polite got me nowhere. I finally called him on it and he thought that since his character had known mine for “years” that god-moding was allowed. Er, no.
I should trust my feelings more. Stupid stamp for Eve.
