Apparently, I am picky as all get out.
Also, apparently, I spend my life critiquing other peoples’ behavior.
I know, shocker. You knew that.
These and many other realizations came to me in a shimmering blaze of glory the other night as I sat awake for several hours, contemplating my life and whether I was ever going to find a job that I actually like.
Even though (get this) I LIKE my current job.
Some people think that a prince or princess is out there, waiting for them, and that no matter how they live their lives, eventually they will be found by the perfect person and will instantly fall madly and deeply in love.
It’s always been my contention that these are either 1) the people that start producing children they regret in their mid-teens or 2) future divorcees.
I am very unimpressed with these people.
Unfortunately for me, I just discovered that I am one of those people.
Not in male-female relationships. Thankfully, I grew up with the notion that my love is what I make of it, not what I wish it to be. If I want a good man, I figure out what that is, and then I do everything in my power to attract one.
(It worked, by the way.)
The thing is that that whole mindset never really sunk in when I started working. For my entire life (it’s been such a long one) I’ve drifted from job to job in a listless haze, always imagining that my Prince Charming Job is out there, somewhere, searching for me. And some day he shall find me and I and my Job shall ride off into the sunset as silver birds flit about us, twittering in sweet harmony.
You may crack a grin, but this (ridiculous as it sounds) is about accurate. I didn’t realize it until now, this week, well over a decade after I punched in my very first time card.
My poor boss(es). Here they are, just trying to make a buck, delighted that they’ve found a good, solid worker, and I’m in a perpetual state of discontent because this is just a “filler job” until the “real thing” comes along.
The list of similarities between wishful thinking in relationships (which I have never suffered from) and wishful thinking in jobs (which I have always suffered from) just goes on and on. But this is good for a start. Just wanted to share with you, some of my not-so-fabulous moments.
James Joyce calls it an epiphany, but it feels more like a baseball bat to the side of the head.
As soon as I stop reeling from the shock of being wrong, I’ll be focusing on overcoming this lifetime of magical thinking. Sure to be pathetic and painful. CAN’T WAIT.