I Have Mixed Feelings Beyond Words

(the resolution, or sequel, if you will, to yesterday’s lament)

Okay. This is my fourth bite of this particular cherry, so I’ll try not to frak it up.

First off, I’m no longer pissed off beyond words. Nor am I pissed off at all, in fact. My pissed off-edness stemmed from taking a job that I really shouldn’t have taken; I won’t go into details because of a confidentiality agreement I haphazardly signed, and because it’s honestly trivial at this point – I’ve worked this post into an angsty, individually-targeted bitch post before, and it honestly made me feel worse. The important thing to know is that this was a job in which I had coworkers; we weren’t working together as such, but other people performing the same task as me in a different area, and we were all under one manager.

This manager is lovely. They’ll never read this because I blocked them on all kinds of social media after walking away from the job in an exaggerated bridge-burning fest that felt good for about five minutes, then hurt for about five hours. I treated said manager like shit; they were welcoming and friendly, both in the interview and in their online communications, and I was cold. Too cold. Not guarded in a ‘you’re someone I don’t know and don’t yet trust’ sense, but in an unfairly dismissive, haughty manager. They might have just sucked me in with an effective nice person image they put on for recruiting people, or they might have been genuine; it doesn’t matter. Someone was nice to me, and I was a wanker to them. This was stupid of me.

That team of people are also lovely. But I didn’t even communicate with them; I was in their group chat for a morning, being added by the manager when I had signed up, and removed by the same person when I walked away. A few of them welcomed me. I ignored them. I was offered the chance not just to meet people, but validate the time they’d taken out of their days to say hello. And I rejected it; I suddenly became fifteen again, dismissing everything but my own knowledge and opinions for no reason other than that they weren’t my own, but now I’m doing it to adults. To intelligent people. To people that will mind if you ignore them, people whose relationships you can’t patch up with a quick game of football twenty minutes later.

I also signed a contract, and was released from it far earlier than I should have been thanks entirely to the awesomeness of that manager; I had nothing to say to this person, who had ultimately broken a legally-binding agreement for my sake, but a dismissive ‘Cheers’ on Facebook. That’s it. You break the law for me and I treat you like you’ve given me a spare pencil.

But despite all this, I’m elated to not be working that job. The tasks were deeply awkward, the company awful and their business model both terrifying and disgusting. I hate that company, and everything they stand for; I’m sure they’re not alone in doing the things they do, but I’ve had experience (albeit, like, a day) with them, and so know what pricks they are. Now I’m free to find a job I actually want (fifth time’s a charm!), or work on my writing; today, having dumped this job, I wrote articles for two magazines and worked on my novel for the first time in two days! I can be me again, which is surprisingly rare considering I spend like 23 hours a day picking over a site named after myself.

My problem is that I failed to differentiate between the company and its workers; sure, the manager and coworkers bought into that philosophy, but that philosophy isn’t theirs, nor does it define them. They’re probably just as cash-strapped as me, and slightly less ideologically rigid in that they can suck up working for such a shady bunch of bastards, while I can’t. They’re people, who have ideas and opinions and things to do, and I treated them like the corporation they were loosely associated with. I treated them like company emails that can be ignored, like chirpy post-it notes left on your desk by higher-ups in the office that can be thrown into a bin with no remorse.

But people aren’t like that.

If anything I deserve to be treated like they were treated.

This isn’t me trying to apologise to the people in question, those bridges have been burned. Nor is this a request for advice. This is me venting, me getting some awful feelings out of my head and onto a blog post, where they will serve as an occasional reminder of my own shittiness, which is helpful, as opposed to a random and near-constant source of self-loathing and anguish, which is less helpful. So I’m okay now. I have done what I have done, and I have formed a coherent response. This thing is over.

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