I quit my day job.
Posted: August 01, 2011 • 6:21 pm
I realized something a few weeks ago. I'm in complete and total agony. Not the kind you get from stubbing your toe, but the kind you get from being miserable and not knowing about it.
For the last four years, I have really hated my job. I mean hated it. It's given me nothing beyond a paycheck except for misery, pain, sickness, near-destroyed bodyparts, bloodloss, second degree burns, and more cuts than you can shake a racoon full of razorblades at.
I've had problems with my former bosses because of the health problems I've endured while in their employ. They didn't come right out and say it, but they strongly hinted in the direction that I was not sick at all, merely lazy and not wanting to work. Apparently doctors and their silly MRI scans are not credible as evidence. A while back I was shifted off from round-the-clock shift work to normal daytime work. According to norwegian law, if an employer intends to do this, the employee requires two weeks prior notification. I received none.
I showed up on a monday morning for the start of a new shift period, and got pulled aside after a couple of hours and told I needed to go see the head of human resources. I couldn't find him in his office, but stumbled across him coming out from a meeting. He then proceeds to tell me to wait in the cafeteria. I do so. For an hour. When he arrives, he tells me I'm now working daytime, from this point forward, because they feel the timing of my illness (at the time, my feet last summer) was poor.
The timing of my illness was poor.
When I found my new work area, my new immediate superior gave me a right chewing out for being four hours late. It seems he had known I was coming for the last three weeks. For added spice, all meetings between an employée and the head of resources are to take place in his office, with a union representative present on the behalf of the employée. And minutes are to be taken from these meetings. I got five minutes. In a cafeteria. With the lunch lady hovering about.
On top of that, my former colleagues are not the sort of people I feel I want around me to stimulate my creativity. Whenever grown men start to see eachother in a boring scenario for more than sixty hours a week, at all hours of the day, they will eventually get bored. And then hell breaks loose. It's like a highschool schoolyard. Rumors. Backtalk. Poor jokes. The occasional fight. Which again leads to people not talking to eachother, which leads to shift changes without relevant information being supplied, leading to production halts at 2 am in the morning.
Back in 2007 they had a mentally ill person employed. This person dipped a few earplugs into liquid glue holding 120 degrees celsius. That's close to 250 degrees fahrenheit. He then handed the earplugs to me, holding it so I couldn't see. He got fired. I got a pat on the back for helping them get rid of him legally. Mind you, this guy was a self-proclaimed member of the Taliban.
There are many instances and stories I could tell. From engineers who double up on the usage of a material, but neglect to order double the amount - causing the entire production to seize up at three in the morning, to how we've had four sets of bosses in three years. How I personally overheard one of the top dogs in the entire company say to another, unknowing I was close by "We have to bullsh!t the customer for as long as we can!". How I had to stop a so-called repairman from banging on a small precision instrument worth hundreds of thousands of dollars with a heavy ball-peen hammer.
I have had it. I have seriously had enough.
Today, I quit my day job.
And it felt like the weight of the world was lifted from my shoulders. My job has made me miserable enough to contemplate jumping off a bridge or going shopping for a gun. It was when I realized that, that I knew I had to change my course drastically. Or I would either spend my 30th birthday as an alcoholic or in a wooden box with a dirt roof. Neither of which are acceptable options.
It'll be a tight few months ahead. I have no new job lined up, and it takes eight weeks for any state help to kick in.
The good news is, I no longer have a job that is crippling me mentally and creatively. Not to mention physically. My soul is no longer suffering from a stubbed toe. I haven't felt this good in years. I will be focusing on my writing for a while.
Wish me luck!
-Fred
For the last four years, I have really hated my job. I mean hated it. It's given me nothing beyond a paycheck except for misery, pain, sickness, near-destroyed bodyparts, bloodloss, second degree burns, and more cuts than you can shake a racoon full of razorblades at.
I've had problems with my former bosses because of the health problems I've endured while in their employ. They didn't come right out and say it, but they strongly hinted in the direction that I was not sick at all, merely lazy and not wanting to work. Apparently doctors and their silly MRI scans are not credible as evidence. A while back I was shifted off from round-the-clock shift work to normal daytime work. According to norwegian law, if an employer intends to do this, the employee requires two weeks prior notification. I received none.
I showed up on a monday morning for the start of a new shift period, and got pulled aside after a couple of hours and told I needed to go see the head of human resources. I couldn't find him in his office, but stumbled across him coming out from a meeting. He then proceeds to tell me to wait in the cafeteria. I do so. For an hour. When he arrives, he tells me I'm now working daytime, from this point forward, because they feel the timing of my illness (at the time, my feet last summer) was poor.
The timing of my illness was poor.
When I found my new work area, my new immediate superior gave me a right chewing out for being four hours late. It seems he had known I was coming for the last three weeks. For added spice, all meetings between an employée and the head of resources are to take place in his office, with a union representative present on the behalf of the employée. And minutes are to be taken from these meetings. I got five minutes. In a cafeteria. With the lunch lady hovering about.
On top of that, my former colleagues are not the sort of people I feel I want around me to stimulate my creativity. Whenever grown men start to see eachother in a boring scenario for more than sixty hours a week, at all hours of the day, they will eventually get bored. And then hell breaks loose. It's like a highschool schoolyard. Rumors. Backtalk. Poor jokes. The occasional fight. Which again leads to people not talking to eachother, which leads to shift changes without relevant information being supplied, leading to production halts at 2 am in the morning.
Back in 2007 they had a mentally ill person employed. This person dipped a few earplugs into liquid glue holding 120 degrees celsius. That's close to 250 degrees fahrenheit. He then handed the earplugs to me, holding it so I couldn't see. He got fired. I got a pat on the back for helping them get rid of him legally. Mind you, this guy was a self-proclaimed member of the Taliban.
There are many instances and stories I could tell. From engineers who double up on the usage of a material, but neglect to order double the amount - causing the entire production to seize up at three in the morning, to how we've had four sets of bosses in three years. How I personally overheard one of the top dogs in the entire company say to another, unknowing I was close by "We have to bullsh!t the customer for as long as we can!". How I had to stop a so-called repairman from banging on a small precision instrument worth hundreds of thousands of dollars with a heavy ball-peen hammer.
I have had it. I have seriously had enough.
Today, I quit my day job.
And it felt like the weight of the world was lifted from my shoulders. My job has made me miserable enough to contemplate jumping off a bridge or going shopping for a gun. It was when I realized that, that I knew I had to change my course drastically. Or I would either spend my 30th birthday as an alcoholic or in a wooden box with a dirt roof. Neither of which are acceptable options.
It'll be a tight few months ahead. I have no new job lined up, and it takes eight weeks for any state help to kick in.
The good news is, I no longer have a job that is crippling me mentally and creatively. Not to mention physically. My soul is no longer suffering from a stubbed toe. I haven't felt this good in years. I will be focusing on my writing for a while.
Wish me luck!
-Fred