Working Hard at Being Impressive

Here is my work personality: I don’t have a strong vocation.  I will do most work as long as it’s not gross or exploitative.  But (and this, my friends, is where I become an employer’s dream) once I’m doing something, I want to be the best at it.  Objectively.  The best.  Ever.  Which means that as well as being extremely competent, I also like to sometimes throw in a little dazzle, just to make sure I don’t get taken for granted.

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Like a Boss

Remember how a while ago, I surprised myself by discovering I had a taste for leadership in my career?  Well, it turns out my boss thought that’d be a good idea and he promoted me.  As of December 1, I’m team lead of my department with four people under me.   (Well, one is a temp, but whatever.)

I’ve never been promoted before and I feel so appreciated!  It’s like someone gave me an award, some kind of plaque that says, “We see how hard you work and all the good things you do and we think you are capable of doing even better things if we give you a little more responsibility, so that’s what we’re going to do.  Go ahead and give yourself a little pat on the back because you’re swell.”

Don’t worry though.  I won’t let the power go to my head.

Even if I have moved one step closer to my goal of world domination.

The Weirdness of Being 32 and Learning Something About Yourself That You Didn’t Know Before

To prevent any misunderstandings, I’m going to preface this by saying that I love my boss.  Not love love; it’s not like that.  But as a boss, he’s quite awesome.  He’s a nice guy, is supportive of my professional goals and concerns, and is very pro-work/life balance, which I really respect.

But this week he is on vacation.  Our team of five is down to four and I’m pretty much running the show.  And I’m surprised to say, I kind of dig it. Continue reading

Jill of All Trades

“One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one’s work is terribly important.”
~ Bertrand Russell

For most of my childhood, I thought that when I grew up I wanted to be a spy.  I have no idea why I clung to this for so long. (We’re talking years here.)  I would have been an awful spy.  I walk like an elephant (so I’ve been told).  I’m pretty sure I would tell you anything you wanted to know if I were subjected to torture.  Or even if you just brought a big dog into the room.  In movie scenes when someone is rifling through the desk drawer of someone else who has just stepped out of the room, I become extremely anxious and have to cover my eyes.  It really wouldn’t have been a good “fit.” Continue reading