Sep 24, 2013

This is a Story....Part 3

Fancy seeing you here! Let's continue our path down memory lane.

Catch up, will ya! 

Here is Part 1.
And Part 2.


It took exactly three months to find my next job.
I was searching for a project management or admin role and had dabbled in accounting so knew a little of everything.

The first month of no work was actually rather fun.
I spent all of December making handmade decorations and gifts. (Read: Cheap shit)
I was a modern day Martha Stewart, I tell ya, making gifts out of garbage!

And of course our engagement!

Bayou proposed and we capped off 2009 sharing the good news with family and friends.

Celebrating the night Bayou proposed!

The following two months were far less exciting. Although unemployment pay had finally kicked in, window shopping loses it's appeal when you can't afford anything more than toiletries.
My schedule relaxed a lot and I found myself watching Regis and Kelly, sipping mimosas at friggin 9am, not showering regularly, and just basically bumming around too much.
I was a sight.
Plus, I "won" the unemployment lotto and was required to attend workshops titled "How To Get A Job in a Poor Market" and "Skills For Success: How to Interview."
I plop down in a seat next to what seemed like every delinquent north of the city, most of whom have clearly never had consistent jobs or speak any English.
I stand out like a sore thumb, dressed in a cute blazer, jeans, and heels. I am the only one without my pants sagged to my knees.
It's almost comical, looking around at these fools, and I decide I have had enough.
The following week I landed an interview at what seemed like a shiny new opportunity in the city.
I should have taken the fact that I was running late and managed to smash into the park car next to me in a feeble attempt to park correctly and still make the train and not fall on ice as a sign of things to come.

The owner seemed genuine and caring.
The hours and pay were decent, and it was a PM position for a high end construction company that was still somewhat familiar but a little outside my confort zone. I went through three interviews and landed the job.
The first six months were fantastic!
I was working a lot, but it felt rewarding, plus my boss was cool with me getting married and taking my honeymoon almost immediately. Score!
I get back from that honeymoon and it was fucking Jeckel and Hyde.
Our contractors started banging on my door asking for their pay and never received it.
Other contractors were being fired.
Lawsuits started.
All the while, I am juggling my own moral support for these shenanigans and trying to save face yet lie through my teeth at these poor workers. I started feeling ashamed of what I was doing, and made to feel as though I was wrong by arguing against the poor treatment of these people.

The following Christmas Eve left a bad taste in my mouth.
I was dealing with a lot of stress and lack of sleep and too much wine to make up for it and had hoped to spend that afternoon with Bayou's family, just like every Christmas Eve.
Instead, as it was a weekday, it was considered a full day in my bosses mind.
Never mind the fact that I regularly logged 60+ hours a week including most weekends and was out of vacation days from my honeymoon.
I missed that family time and was the only sad sap on the train to the city that day.
Chicago was a ghost town.
I knew at that point I needed to find a job that I loved, one with meaning, a purpose, and mutual respect.
I was asking for a lot but had put in the time. 

To make matters worse, in February 2011, we were hit with one of the largest snow storms since the 70's. So much snow that it came up to the door handle of my Hummer.

I live about an hour outside of the city and all major transportation had shut down.
No trains, no driving.
Bayou was on plow duty with work and didn't come home for two days.
I received calls from my parents saying they were stuck and needed help clearing the driveway.
I had to dig my way of my home to let the dogs out and after assessing how much work was to be done, emailed my boss I wouldn't be making it in that day.

Unacceptable!  he stated.

I promptly ignored that statement and got to work. Scraping and shoveling a path by hand, to get out of my house.

Hours went by and I was finally free!
I let the dogs out and literally pummeled my Hummer into the enormous mound of snow at the base of my driveway to get out.  It took a few tries but that beast of a truck came in handy that day.
On the way over to my parents, I stopped a few times to get some sad sacks out of ditches.
Shoveled for hours and hours.
Exhausted, I headed home to find an email about how terrible of a person I was that I took the day off and how inconsiderate I am to not have given more than a few hours notice that I wouldn't be in that day.

He officially could Fuck. Off.

That following weekend Bayou and I came to the rash decision that I just needed to quit my job.
I was upset and angry or crying most nights, and it just wasn't worth it anymore.
We budgeted everything for a one income family and decided to pull the trigger.

And then the next door opened.