This is probably very small of me, but lately I’ve been feeling undervalued. Every time I go to an interview lately, they’ve been telling me that while my test scores are amazing and I have the rarely seen thing of longevity with a company I’m asking too much for what they could possibly get for me. Granted, these have been staffing agencies which will charge about fifty percent more to the company to have them handle my payroll and such, but really…being unemployed sucks enough without people telling you that you’re not worth what you think you’re worth. The salary I’m asking for is actually less than I was making, since currently I’d have to pay for everything in benefit land on my own, unlike my last employer who paid for everything. I have a masters degree. I’ve been working in databases and advanced administrative work for six years in a non-profit and they were able to pay me that kind of salary…I think I can find something similar, but I’m tired of being told I’m not worth it.
I think the big fuck-you this week has been just living with my husband. I’m finally getting over being sick from when he brought home the latest version of the plague going around his work. I’m no longer coughing the entire day, just in random fits. I no longer feel like I need to drill a hole in my ear drum to relieve pressure building there. I’ve actually felt able to do something during the day other than get on the computer for several hours checking email and looking for a new job. I’ve scrubbed the upstairs rooms and made them acceptable for visitors again. I’ve gotten two out of three done on the mid-level. I finally feel like I’m being useful instead of just feeling sorry for myself and sick.
What happens with him? Today is day two of him being a plague carrying monster. I’m trying very carefully to not get whatever the hell it is again. We had talked earlier this week that since he was off on Saturday we’d get up and do some yard work in the morning before it got too toasty and before he had to go to our friend’s dad’s wedding. I make coffee, grab the paper, do dishes and get my breakfast all together before I see him. I flip through the paper and read the comics while eating my breakfast and then finish becoming an acceptable human before throwing a music mix together for yard work on the MP3 player and off we go.
Now mind you all week I’ve been scrubbing the house. My efforts haven’t been completely unnoticed, but it took prompting. He’s gone to a concert promoted by a friend and worked his ass off at work getting ready for a regional VP visit that went really well. Basically I’ve been home and ignored during our brief overlaps and combine that with the feelings of undervalued from staffing agencies, I feel fan-frickin-tastic. At least the wonderful Mime I’m working with right now loves me, so I’m not getting it from all sides. (Last show, the art installation folks thought I was wonderful, but once I got the lights programmed I got the distinct feeling I was no longer needed.)
Since he’s feeling like death warmed over, we set the modest goal of weeding the three garden plots in the front yard. This takes about an hour and a half with the two of us working and the grass-like weed is no longer threatening our rose bush or consuming the flax. It is still present in the front yard though, since the weed & feed spray we used to kill off the clover did nothing to kill it. That’s another job for another day. See, with our late start on the morning and his coughing self, by the time we finish that he’s feeling beat all to hell and ready for a shower. Plus, he’s gotten three phone calls from our friend with Version A of the plan, Version B which moved everything up an hour and then a “are you on your way yet?” call as we were cleaning up. This means shower time and him trying to rush out the door.
After a bit of arguing and trying to get him to answer a question three times, I get the “what, are you fucking stupid?” look from him. I just look at him in shock and tell him to just go. I don’t care any more. Nobody seems to know what’s going on and he’ll have a great time so just get the fuck out of here and stop getting in my way and making me feel concerned that you’re sick and should drug yourself and sleep for about a week. Why should I be concerned about you driving to our friends and having to then drive home? Just stay there all night and I’ll enjoy having the bed to myself. I’ve gotten used to being by myself, why should I want you around right now?