11:45 PM. That was the time I stopped working last night.
08:50 AM. This was the time I arrived in front of the office.
11:43 AM. I’m trying to get over the fact that I stupidly gave my debit card information for a prize and now I have a $35 meal prep PDF under my name.
Three weeks and I’ve already gotten words promotion, project manager, partner, higher salary promised from someone I had to listen possibly bullshit in front of my face.
I’ve seen these sorts of promises before. I’ve actually been in them approximately four to five times before and I honestly thought I wouldn’t experience another one after letting my previous supervisor know that I was leaving the job for another one the very next day. But I’m here, once again.
And I don’t know why I do or if I’m sort of magnetically attracted to small business owners who do nothing but spill out marketing terms to get my attention or maybe it’s because big companies won’t hire someone like me who doesn’t have 30+ years of experience, regardless if I am even 30 years old or not.
Even though I was given a lot of praise from my new job, a lot of wow, Florence! I didn’t expect that from you and I see you doing so much with this company, I’m not going to lie — it felt exhilarating to get compliments from someone who seems so blunt with her opinions but when I received that check yesterday, it was as if she and the other partner both spit real hard on my face.
All of these compliments and grateful words I’ve heard from not only her but the previous four to five bosses don’t matter because appreciation comes from the amount one is paid. It’s not the nice words that slide off their mouths or the free drinks/meals they offer to get me. That’s what friends and boyfriends are for. (Right?) Because that’s not what makes a person more motivated to work or feel appreciated. It’s the dolla, dollas.
So when a manager or CEO of a small company tells me it’s all about the passion and goal of helping this world, and that it’s NOT about the money, that’s the time I should pack my things and walk around without a goodbye.
6:18 PM. An hour later from telling myself that I won’t work anymore, but I did.
