October 21st, 2009 by Kateastrophe

You know that feeling where you’re so tired you feel all woozy and as though you woke up in a vat of Jell-O (in my case it’s always the green kind, in case you’re wondering.  You can take the girl outa Utah but you can’t take Utah outa the girl)?

Yeah, today I have that feeling combined with a big dose of what I think it would feel like to have your feet run over by a bus *while* you are being beaten with a metal pole.

Woozy Jell-O + Bus Accident + Metal Pole = Party in the USA (noddin’ my head like yeah . . . movin’ my hips like . . . wait.  I hate that song).

“Why dost thou feel this way fair Kate” I know you are all asking.  In Ye Olde English, of course.  Because in my head we all talk that way when we’re tired.  It’s sort of like Kenneth seeing the world as Muppets in 30 Rock.  And even if you’re not asking I’m going to tell you.

{Que explanatory tangent}

About a decade ago when I was in college, I could survive on about four seconds of sleep.  I could stay up all night “studying” with a cute boy, fall into bed for a short couple hour nap and be rearing and ready to go for ballet at 7 AM. Now that I’m all old, I look back on those days with a jealous rage.  I currently need about nine hours of sleep to operate as a human.  NINE.  I love sleeping more than anything except a good macaroni and cheese.  My bed and I are best friends.

{End explanatory tangent}

So I started my new job exactly two weeks ago.  Before that I was unemployed for thirty days and before that for the last several months I traipsed into work around nine-ish and traipsed to an hour and a half-ish lunch at about noon-ish and traipsed back home around four-thirty-ish.  Needless to say there was not a lot to do in the final days of our doomed company.  Ish.  The new job is 8-5.  I have a few minutes leeway here and there, but I really do need to be there by 8.  I have a 45 minute commute which means I have to leave my house at 7:15 which means (as I’ve mentioned before) I have to get up at 6:00 AM.  OHMYGOSH I HATE SIX AM.  I TRULY WANT IT TO DIE A HORRIBLE, PAINFUL DEATH.   Obviously I’m not a morning person which means I’m a night person.  Which means going to bed before 11 PM isn’t really my thing.  Needless to say my sanity requirement of nine hours of sleep is far from being met.  I’m running on about a 20 hour deficit in sleeping hours so far.

All of that is problem #1.

Problem #2 is limited to just this week, but it has been a big old problem.  Matt’s best friend came to town for the U2 concert on Monday night.  We stayed up talking until almost 1 AM.  I still had to get up at 6 AM.  You do the math.  I’ll wait . . . YEAH.  That’s five hours of sleep.

Then the U2 concert was last night.  It was amazing.  AMAZING.  I’ve never seen them live and I’m adding them to the list of my top concerts ever – which is hard to do because I’ve seen some amazing concerts.  If you get the chance, pay the ridiculous amount of money and go.  You won’t regret it.  Unless it’s on a weeknight.  And you’re a person who needs nine hours of sleep.  And you got home at almost 1:30.  AND HAD TO GET UP AT SIX.  In that case you’ll regret it just a little only because you’re using duct tape to hold your eyes open and a ruler taped to your chest and your chin to keep your head up. 

October 12th, 2009 by Kateastrophe

Ummmm hai.  Missing from Bloglandia much?  That’s me!

I have no time for a real post so here’s a quick catch-up list.  Bullet style.

• Started my new job on Wednesday at 9AM
• Brain exploded Wednesday at 10AM
• Brain began oozing out my ears and nose by Wednesday at 12PM
• Went home at 5 PM Wednesday and died.  After Glee, natch
• Resurrected myself Thursday morning at 6 AM.  WHO GETS UP THAT EARLY?  Oh that’s right, now I do.  SHOOT ME NOW.
• Did it all again Thursday and Friday
• Stayed up way late Friday night
• Rinse and repeat Saturday, add a birthday party for my girl JoAnne (henceforth known as JoJo)
• Lots of church on Sunday
• Lots of naps on Sunday
• Return to the top and repeat for all days of this week.

The new job, so far, is a new job.  I won’t give a lot of detail but I’ve moved from the Retail Technology world to Real Estate and from Marketing to . . . something else, title of which I’m unsure.  No, I’m not a real estate agent.  I’m working on the corporate side.  Think big company.  HUUUUGE company.  Lots of Excel spreadsheets.  Hold me.  I’m overwhelmed, stressed and a wee bit freaked out.  The people are awesome, I just have a whole new language to learn.  Luckily I’m getting a month of training during which I can make every mistake known to man and have someone fix it for me.  Bonus round, I have a fifth floor corner office with a view of Camelback Mountain and I’m close to some great shopping and restaurants.  Good-bye, paycheck, hello Louboutins!

October 2nd, 2009 by Kateastrophe

I think I’m mourning the loss of my job.

I’m sure I’m not the only person who has felt this way after getting laid off, but I think it took me a little longer to figure it out.

The day I was let go I was given about twenty minutes to get my stuff and get out.  There was a meeting in the conference room consisting of those who were being hired on and “they” didn’t want those of us who weren’t staying around causing any “trouble” with those who were.  It was absurd, to say the least.

I worked at this company for five years and 22 days.  10,616 hours.  I spent more time there than I spent at home.  The job took me to Hawaii, Florida, New York, California and Nevada.  My taste buds experienced misery and ecstasy on my business trips.  My feet ached at trade shows as I showed off my hard work and helped create new business.  I participated in some of the biggest deals in eCommerce history.  I sweat, cried, bled, screamed, and laughed my way through my time there.  And now it’s over.  I had 20 minutes with which to consolidate five years of my life into a box.  A BOX.

I tried so hard to keep it together as I was madly trying to decide what to keep and what to let go.  I pretty much failed as the tears overflowed out of my eyes.  I tried to hide them from anyone who walked by or offered to help but I’m sure they saw.

Three weeks later, there are still moments where the hurt is so sharp I almost cry out.  I found a pile of business cards in the purse I was cleaning out last week and I had to sit down to cope with the profound loss I felt as I saw my name and title and realized it was mine no more.  My box of crap is still sitting by the front door and I can’t force myself to go through it because I know every piece of paper or small trinket will remind me of a special moment or experience I had at a place that no longer exists.

I know I’ll get over it and, as my Dad says, they were doing me a favor.  And that box isn’t going to sit there reminding me of my loss for much longer.  I got three offers today and I’m pretty sure I’ve decided which job I’ll be taking.

Employment, I hope you’re ready for me.  Because I’m coming at you with a vengeance.