My several-month absence from my blog was due in large part to the demands of my increasingly stressful job. Most of my life was consumed with the aforesaid job, meaning that I had nothing to blog about, except what happened at work, and my concern about keeping my job prevented me from writing about the ridiculous things that happened there. I have no such obligation now, and so as part of my cathartic release of the stress of the past nine months or so, I will now share with you some (hopefully somewhat humorous) anecdotes.

I should begin by explaining that my job had three parts, all of which were, at any given time, a full-time job. This perpetual overload led to a sort of schizophrenic juggling act, where I had all daily tasks delegated to me on paper to manage, but also innumerable, unwritten, ever-changing expectations that I was simply supposed to be aware of (via telepathy, I suppose). My three titles were Office Manager, Administrative Assistant, and Personal Assistant to the CEO. For those who are unaware, these three positions, despite sharing some general tasks, are usually given to three different people (two, for a smaller company). Being by nature an over-achiever and a perfectionist, I set out to do all three jobs simultaneously and without error. This resulted in extreme stress, burnout, many, many hours of unpaid overtime, and a total breakdown six months after starting the job, right in time for Christmas. The work load eased up in the following months, but by April things were much worse. I was having panic attacks and crying in the bathroom every day. Still, for the most part, I really enjoyed my job, and my co-workers, but the constant overload was wearing on me. I had meetings with both of my supervisors and also the CEO where I tried repeatedly to make them understand just how absurd their expectations were, but they would concede nothing.

I went to see a counselor at one point, who advised me to quit, which I did. Or rather, I put in my notice, and was happily looking forward to… well, anything but that job. This lovely plan ended suddenly one morning when I received a massive, unexpected bill, equivalent to nearly half my monthly income. I went into work that morning, called the CEO and told him I wanted my job back. I told him everything he wanted to hear, short of begging which my pride would not allow.

Part of me believed that things really would get better, and again, for awhile, they were. I worked for only 8 hours every day and took lunch breaks almost daily. I stopped answering emails after 6pm. If something didn’t get done within the 40 hour work week, it just didn’t get done. Everything was going reasonably well, and I began to congratulate myself on my juggling skills.

And then, The Move happened.

[Cue ominous music]

To be continued…