Hallo good people of blog-land (-: I’m Allyson, I’m your host for the day. Loralie asked me to join her and I told her I don’t have any idea what to write about. Especially about writing. She said I didn’t have to talk about that, that instead I should tell you my story. I’m a verbal person, so writing this down will be different for me. I’m not very good at going in order, either. So forgive me if the story happens out of sequence. With any luck, I’ll get the hang of things soon and figure out what my rhythm is.
Speaking of – music is my inspiration. My link to sanity and its evaporation. Every distinct moment in my life is tied to a song. The blog titles are those songs, today The Offspring mingles with my memories.
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It’s April 29, 2010. I’m watching the clock on my computer tick by, and wishing for more to be grateful for than climate control. Life is miserable, with a capital C. As in, Charlotte would be a beautiful place if my reasons for being here were different. The client is screaming at me again. They’re always screaming. Their voices fill the room from that little plastic phone sitting on the conference room table.
My boss is rolling his eyes at my project manager, and they’re both whispering profanities while the volatile voice on the other end of the line goes on and on and on about how their life is ruined. The nice thing about being in the office instead of working at home like I normally do, is I can see I’m not the only one who hates these calls. The sucky thing – at least in this instance – is my coworkers can see me cringe in pain every time my name is used like a profanity.
The boss is having as much trouble as I am. He’s a nice guy. One of those who dreams big but never quite follows-through. He comes closer than most, but still, in the last year or so, he’s never quite finished a project. Those big dreams are just words and I wish I’d seen it sooner. So does his boss. He’s in hot water for more than just me and making this thing right is his chance to shine. I’ve already lost mine.
This project is one of his dreams. “We’ll automate everyone. And you know this client best,” he said to me. “So they can be your learning curve.” Fantastic. Those words echo in my mind, mingling with another voice – this one screachier – telling me how much I suck. What wasn’t a dream, the reality of the situation, is what he told me a couple of hours ago at lunch. “We realize now we set you up for failure on this project. I’m sorry, but someone has to take the heat for this.”
Those words are bouncing in my head, too. Pounding against my skull in rhythm to my tapping foot. Lessons learned: don’t trust the guy who talks big, don’t force a client into a project they’re opposed to from the start, and don’t believe bureaucracy is ever on your side.
The call is ending, along with the threat that I’d better not be touching this project any more. Someone has been assigned to take my place – and I’m not supposed to mention that since I have all the knowledge, I’m still on standby for consultation. I feel bad for the new guy, but relieved for me. This job has stolen my soul, my hope, my sanity, and my ability to get pay raises for my remaining internment.
Maybe I’m being melodramatic. I ponder this as we shuffle back to our desks. Am I taking this all too hard? Am I reading too much into this? I drop my notebook with a slap on the cheap desk and reach for my phone out of habit. Who called while I was being drawn and quartered?
And my heart leaps a little. Headhunter. It climbs into my throat as I listen to the voice mail. Job interview. I try and hide my smile as I write down the information, plotting when I can break away to call him back. The rest of the day can’t go fast enough and I know I’ll be begging off dinner tonight to order room service on the company dollar and pretend for the next ten hours I’m here for fun. Job interview. The two sweetest words I’ve ever heard.