For What it’s Worth. . .

I have complained a fair bit about my job in the last few weeks, especially on Facebook. Well, I’m not actually sure I have complained, but I have commented that I have been working a lot. Which might be construed as complaining, even though it’s really not what I’m intending to do. It’s just that I went from a job that was I was at for exactly 37.25 hours each week (and trust me, I often took every 15 minute break I could) to a job that is, oh, 60, maybe 70 hours a week.

And you don’t scale up that much without losing a few things in the translation. Like sleep, and good eating habits and running. Possibly also my eye sight.

It’s been a huge challenge. Mr. Spit has stepped into the breech and he has cooked and cleaned and done laundry. He’s fed animals and let them in and out, and occasionally wandered into my office to fill up my coffee cup or bring me eggies. He has reminded me that this is not the end of the world. He has not said much when I have crawled into bed at midnight, at 3 am, at 6 am. He’s rolled over and cuddled me. He’s hauled me out of bed in the morning, tired and grumpy.

It’s been, well, it’s been stressful. Compressing 6 months worth of work into 6 weeks is hard, we’ve had someone quit, brought in 3 contractors, who are great but need training, and it’s been exhausting. I finish spending all of my day working in a small group and I go home and do hours of work to finish up what I didn’t get done that day. Some nights, like tonight, I don’t even get that far before I have to start on the work for the next day.

So, to be honest, I feel like I am running as hard as I can, on a road to a place we haven’t exactly located on the map. Well, that’s not true. The place on the map is called “April 6, 2010″. We need to have all of the work done by April 6th. In the process of doing this, I have been known to forget what day it is.

And in the midst of this, people ask me if I still like the job.

I do. That’s not an equivocation or anything else. I do like the job. I like the people, I like the work, and to tell you the truth, every time I see my new boss, I want to hug him. Honestly, I love the job.

I’m overworked. I’m perpetually tired. I’m sick. Still sick. I’m harried and I’m not sure if I’m coming or going. I wouldn’t want to live this way forever. I can do it for another month. You can be overworked for a month.

More than that, I’m appreciated. Not only am I good at what I do, I’m told that I am. It’s not a threat to be competent, it’s praise-worthy. The extra effort is noticed. There is no politcal (pardon my french) bullshit. I’m not looking for the knives before they hit my back. When I take the initiative to do something, or I make a decision I hear “Good Call” or “Thank you”. I went to my boss with a problem this week and he looked at me and said “Make a decision. I’ll support you.”

Every part of my job is not prescribed, I’m not checked up upon, and then checked and checked again. No one assumes that I will make mistakes. I get told the Why and the When. My boss doesn’t care about how it gets done. He figures if I have questions I’ll ask him. And when he doesn’t give me enough information and I have to hunt him down, he apologizes. He was wrong earlier in the week. I didn’t have to do it the wrong way, and then let him realize his error, lest I be insubordinate. I could tell him why he was wrong, he looked at it again, said “Yep. Thanks for catching that.”

It’s hard. It’s exhausting. But it’s not stupid, and I’m appreciated. I can live with hard. I can thrive on hard.