Playtime is over.
Today my boss, sweet, generous soul that she is, told me that I have to stop goofing off at work. Well, what she actually said was that because she will be out of the office for several weeks, due to an illness, I’m going to have to carry my weight. Okay, what she said was that she’d need me to be here 100%. She always was the diplomat.
I have been goofing off. I’m a workaholic. Up until the week my life came apart, at the start of October, I was putting in 50 to 60 hours a week without even thinking twice about it. I was getting things done without needing to be prompted or told twice. I wasn’t sending out resumes left and right trying to get another job. I wasn’t giving my boss heart attacks by going to interviews.
It’s not even a question of just doing my job now. I’ve been putting in less than 40 hours a week for a long time, and my boss hasn’t called me on it. I’ve turned in projects after deadlines and bowed out on taking new projects because of my workload. Even the work that I have turned in isn’t up to the excellent level I’ve always maintained. I’m surprised she’s let me get away with it as long as she has.
I was once her intern. My junior year in college, I was a media intern and she was my supervisor. She went over all of my work and gave me pointers and direction. I would get back press releases dripping in red ink and post-it notes crammed with tips on how to make my intros better. Every Monday we would get together and go over what I was supposed to do that week. She would tell me if I was doing something wrong and then tell me if I did something exceptionally right and after that I was on my own. I learned more in my 5 months as her intern than I did in 4 years of college.
Four years later I am a Marketing Coordinator to her Director of Marketing. I am the closest thing she has to an assistant, though she does have a secretary. A secretary I trained, I might add. No longer in public relations, our jobs have a lot more to do with advertising and marketing communications than anything else. I’m still learning from her and we still work well together.
I wish that I didn’t have to think about finding another job. I like my job, much as I bitch about it. I like my job and I like the people I work with. I don’t like the circumstances, but it’s a good thing that I’m being forced to get my shit together at work. I’m never gonna get back on track unless I do it in all aspects of my life. And that includes this real job of mine.