The thing that I hated about working in corporate America was the idea that employees were not considered to be people. That we were sort of treated like cattle. We were branded by our institutions and told how we could look, how we could smell and what type of underwear we could wear (I am not even joking, it was totally in the dress code). Now that I have exited the world of the corporate monster, I have been on a mission to find a job where I could relax. Where I could wear a thong (not that any dress code was ever reason enough not to). Where I could feel at home.
The problem is that now that I have found a place where my flip flops don’t offend and I can wear my patchouli oil in peace, I don’t want to be there either. Is there such a thing as being considered too MUCH a person?
I don’t like to be touched by people I don’t know. Hell, I don’t even like to be touched by many people that I DO know, so it would stand to reason that the touchy-feeliness of my new job might be a little too much. In the interview, I noticed that the boss (a physician of alternative medicine, of which I am very fond) likes to touch. She likes to be in close proximity to you while speaking and likes to constantly touch your hand in sort of a half high-five motion that, for the untrained person, would seem very creepy. And I consider myself trained because I have spent a total of five hours with her and I have been witness/victim to this about 567 times.
Today was my first day. I spent the afternoon sitting at a desk in the middle of what used to be a kitchen (the office used to be a house and serves the purpose of making the patients feel at home), preparing fliers and bulletins, and answering the phone. Don’t get me wrong, it was a nice change from being chained to a desk where I never saw the light of day, but it was a far cry from what I had been searching for. I didn’t for one second feel that I should have chosen the other position (which involved dentists and children, the idea of both together brings me to tears), but I am not entirely sure that I even want to go back tomorrow. My mom thinks that I should just call in the morning and give them the “this isn’t working” speech, (and for once, I actually agree with her advice), but I feel horrible about wasting the time of such a nice woman (touchy-feely or not).
All I want is to be content. Not overjoyed but not miserable. Just somewhere in between. But CHEESUS, I have to pay the BILLS.