Quitters sometimes win

I've had another one of those "finding yourself" weeks, and it led me to quit my job. After a little over two months. Maybe it has to do with feeling like my choices were making me (leaving Chile as I did, living in New York, etc.), or being in an industry where your politics and your job are intertwined. I can't say that there is ever a time when you feel more completely and utterly in control of your life and destiny than the moment you give notice. It isn't easy, or pretty, but there is something slightly empowering about the whole thing. 

That's not why I did it. I did it because some people are dumb and don't deserve the jobs they have, while others toil away over qualified and under appreciated.*** I did it because sometimes you have to speak up, or else nothing will change, whether it's speaking out about an insane law, or demanding that junior staff members are treated with respect.

Because I want to tell everyone: If you are young, or in some to other way inexperienced, and you do your job as best you can, and say please and thank you, YOU DESERVE TO BE RESPECTED. Seniority and favoritism and idiocy can anda la chucha for all I care. Don't ever let anyone blame you for something you didn't do just because you're new, or make you feel worthless because you don't know where the paper towels are kept. Insecure people do that. And you are better. 

It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me. And I'm feeling good.****

***I am aware that this happens everywhere, and that my next place of business may employ some idiot who can't do her job either. I could literally write for hours about my (now) former co-worker who was so grossly unqualified for her director-level job that I had to sit at my tiny desk and laugh/weep daily. But I'm sure we all have those stories. However, when my fiscal director doesn't understand the concept of a fiscal year, it gives me pause. Am I wrong? Can you do me one better? I double dare you. 

****I'd feel better if my new job was, say, the New York Giants official pep-talker or funny tshirt maker. A girl can dream. Or John Mayer's joke writer. Or Jeff Tweedy's...drinking buddy? That's pretty wrong. I take it back.

The Lull and the Mull

Given that I have a lull in my three week mad dash to meet grant deadlines, I thought I'd catch up with some blogging. Because I love nothing more than talking incessantly about myself.

Most of my job is foundation grant writing. Contrary to what some may believe, this is really a group process. Not that everyone is doing the work, but rarely can a proposal be submitted with out read-throughs, revisions and approvals. I don't mind this, as I think that an executive director should have the ultimate say in how i ask for $50,000 or $2 million. However lately, with impending deadlines I start to wonder where all the time went.

For the second time this week, I've done all of my work but my day is put on hold as I wait for th final input that preps the proposal for final submission. This inevitably happens after hours, when people are really feeling the push; people need a sense of urgency to make decisions.

But I start to think about what my time is really worth. As a freelancer, I've had to many times ask myself realistically, how much is my writing worth? Quoting rates, underselling and overselling is all in a day's work (as you can see from this spirited thread over at Freelance Writing Jobs). But since grant writing is my salaried job, I don't have the luxury of billing for hours spent waiting. And truly, in this world of flex-time, working until 10:00pm one night just means I have a blissful sleep-in or morning of errand-running in my future.

That's hardly the point. It's Friday night and I'm trying to make some after-work plans, trying to have a life that I can't seem to have during the working week. But I'm still waiting for that phone call. Lucky for me, I have the opportunity to work remotely on certain days, and as I write this I'm sitting in my favorite wi-fi equipped Irish pub sipping on a Stella. A little unprofessional, but not a bad life.

I'm sure I could work out what my hourly wage is, and how much it is in turn costing my organization to pay me to essentially sit here. Under normal circumstances, I'd be catching up on other work related tasks, it is just difficult to have to idea hanging over you that at anytime the phone will ring and I'll have to drop it all to go back to my proposal. There are few tasks that I could assign myself that allow for such flakiness. Blogging, obviously, lends itself nicely to this lifestyle. If only they new they were paying me to post this!

But I ask everyone, as people, what is our time really worth? How long should we have to wait?

The funniest thing I've heard this week...

It's only Tuesday, and this is shaping up to be a real shit-show. I'd planned on continuing with my Santiago list, but I'm in a bad mood and I feel like that might hinder my ability to paint a picture of wonderment and happiness.

Entonces....

I'll instead share with you a text that was sent to my sister, from a friend who had been at the bar a little too long:

"Hey Mermaid! You got some seaweed up in you tail..."

Apparently, this was meant as an invitation to the previously mentioned bar.

Five Alive: Patio Bellavista

I'm pretty sure I'm going to get some crap for this (obvio), but as I was compiling my list of my lugares favoritos in Santiago, I decided to start at the bottom with number cinco. And that led me to the ever-touristy, but pretty damn awesome Patio Bellavista. So maybe the crafts are a tad overpriced (as is the Guinness), and it's not exactly a hideaway (on Pio Nono por Dios!), but let's break down the pros:

1) There is Yogen Fruz
2) There is Vino Navegado
3) There is the Organic Coffee Man, who told me not to worry about anything, it was all going to be ok, when I broke down in tears while choosing a tin to bring home, the day before I left Santiago for good.

All this and you can sit outside! This is truly a happy place.

"Sick"

The truth is, I'm sick as a dog. I don't get sick like most people do. I have an above average immune system, so I don't necessarily have the dripping nose or constant coughing. But on the inside, I feel it. But no one ever believes me.

I went to work today, because I had been in bed for two days, and watched an episode of One Tree Hill, signaling to me a real and intense need to do something productive. I kept opening up my laptop to work on something, when I would get distracted by Best Week Ever. I figured, even in my pathetic state, up and out of bed was the way to go.

People have a lot of opinions about non-profits, ranging from the whole "you guys are saints" attitude to a more cynical "why don't you have a real job" (thanks dad!). I'm on the fence about the whole thing myself. There is something about this new job, which I should absolutely not be talking about online, and one a blog that isn't all that hard to find, and which has my gd photo on it. But let me break something down:

I was the only administrative person in my office today. I'm a mid-level development person, but pretty close to the bottom of my particular orgs totem pole. The "administrative team" is fairly tight knit; we share very close quarters, overhear lots of each others' conversations, and generally tolerate each other. And yet, I was ridiculous annoyed that I was the only one in the office today. not because I think people shouldn't get sick, but because there wasn't any sort of email or pow wow or something about it. I mean, for frick's sake. For a bunch of people who truly believe that the world begins and ends with them (i am SO going to get it for that comment), how could you not give anyone a heads up that you aren't coming in? Am I crazy?

I take a step back and realize that I left New York initially because of this nonsense, because the pettiness of office politics was overshadowing the work. When I left my first non profit job, it was because I was really annoyed at my co-workers, and it clouded my judgment about everything. I like to pretend that I'm not that young and naive anymore. But that was only three years ago, so who am I kidding.

So I've come to terms with the fact that I will never like everyone I work with, nor will I like every aspect of my job. And that there are some really bad days. Or weeks. Unfortunately, when I'm unhappy, I always think of Chile. I didn't even like it all that much, yet I can't go back whenever I want, and that really makes me sad. So for a while, I've been trying to think of all of my favorite places in Chile, or I guess Santiago itself. Since I get a lot of ex-pats asking me questions about Chile.

That's coming up. And less complaining about work. Of course, feel free to leave your work idiocy in the comments.