Square Peg in a Round Hole

I’m not a minute-detail-oriented person. I’d love to knit and have tried to do so many times, but that type of close work drives me insane. Following in my father’s footsteps and becoming an accountant? The stuff of nightmares. I’m not the type that is a secretary. I’m the type that needs a secretary.

As an example: I can’t type. Well, I can a little. I actually took a typing class in ninth grade, but moved to a school district offering fewer class periods per day so abandoned typing after learning only asdfghjkl;. My own weird hunt and peck method results in some occasionally hilarious and all-too-frequent typos, as my online friends can certainly attest.

Why, then, did I take a job that involved minute attention to detail, almost exclusively?

It was a great opportunity, working with a someone I really like and admire. Then there’s the money, which isn’t too bad. Also, I thought I’d pick it up fairly easily; after all, I’m a quick study. Then there’s the money.

It’s perfect! The only problem is I absolutely hate it.

I’m no good at it. I admit it.

I knew I’d need a working knowledge of Word, which I thought I had. And I do, as long as I don’t have to take into account that I must edit very complicated embedded tables set to other computers’ specifications, and try one of three thousand eight-hundred and sixty seven possible fixes, none of which work.

But even more telling, I must first see the error I’d never ever, ever EVER notice on my own. See, this line should span three spaces and not four, and that line should be underlined twice, not once. Or something equally trivial but of utmost importance to the Securities and Exchange Commission.

This is important work. A mistake on my part could be big trouble for the client, and many mistakes put the account in jeopardy, as it should.

I don’t want that kind of pressure in a part-time gig. I don’t want to have to sit around, like I am today, waiting for others to look at a file and make sure they don’t want to make any changes. I don’t want the pressure that comes with filing deadlines and client peccadilloes.

I just don’t want it.

Why haven’t I quit?

Well, there are parts I’m good at. There was no learning curve for me with dealing with the clients and coordinating jobs with sub-contractors. I’m pretty darn good at it. Most of them have no idea how brand-spanking- new this is for me. I have a great ability to sound like I know exactly what I’m talking about when I do not, and I’m savvy enough to know exactly how far out on a limb I can safely go.

And yeah, I’m pretty smart. I learn quickly, but I wasn’t learning this quickly. So out of my frustration and pride grew an intense desire to tame the beast. To be good at it just because I wanted to be good at it. To conquer it.

Now, after two months of struggling and working around things and arranging to take a Word class (which won’t teach me these complicated fixes anyway) and trying to find a way to make it work I had the same epiphany I had after the last time I tried to learn knitting:

It’s okay not to be good at everything. There’s some things that while valuable, and easy for others, are just not worth the effort it would take me.

I’m wonderful with people, a superb marketer, a great project coordinator, a terrific delegator. I’m creative and innovative and dependable and trustworthy.

No matter how hard we try we just can’t make me fit into this work. I’m okay with that, and truth be told I think she’ll be a little bit relieved. She trusts me, and in this unique circumstance she has to have someone she trusts. But she also needs someone who can see all of the grooves in these very complex holes.

And that ain’t me. Thank you, G-d.


I Don’t Wanna Work

I got a job, even though I wasn’t looking for one.

A friend called to ask if I would help her in her business. The girl who had been helping her decided to get a full-time position, so she offered me the opportunity.

There’s a lot of great news about this job:

I can work from home, or anywhere there’s an internet connection. That gives me fairly good flexibility. If a job comes in and I’m not at home I can just skedaddle over to the nearest place with wifi and get to work, or I can tell my friend that I can’t take that particular assignment.

The money is good. I’ll get paid either per page or per report, and it’s much more than I’d make working retail.

We don’t need the income for our day to day expenses. That means that we’ll be able to accumulate more money for our next house, our next car and our retirement.

It’s something new. Having been home with Son for nearly four years there’s not been much to challenge me. I’ll have to learn something new, which is always a good thing.

It’s deadline oriented. The work is time-sensitive. I’ve not been too disciplined lately, and this will force me to stay on task.

Really, it’s very nearly a dream position.

Then why am I so NOT excited?

I just don’t wanna.

I love my lifestyle.

I love that I don’t have to answer to anyone.

I love that I can leave the house without a plan and let the day unfold.

I love that I can pull into the train station on a whim and sit with Son watching trains go by.

I love that I can go see Husband’s grandmother and play cards with her all afternoon.

I love that I can go to three grocery stores and not have to rush.

I love that I can nap when Son does.

But I am a part of the team that is this family. And given that this is a near-perfect opportunity, I feel that it’s my responsibility to take the job.

It’s going to be an adjustment, but I’ll adjust.

I just don’t wanna.

%d bloggers like this: