Thursday, 25 August 2011

Frankly My Dear

He didn’t say anything but I was caught on Facebook and possibly Hotmail at work today by one of the SMEs. (Yeah I can’t remember what that stands for except Expert). Just one of the go-to people before you bug the Team Leader. The TL is called Rhett Butler. Would you believe? I knew it was a famous name from pop culture but I had to look it up to remind myself. Gone with the bloody Wind. Frankly my dear I do give a damn! Apparently he’s really laid back. (A team mate and gossip buddy of mine used to work with him. Judging from a Facebook photo they’re not bad friends). Tall and cute in a dressed casual sort of way. He likes his football though. L And frankly my dear I DON’T give a damn about that!

It’s not that we’re banned from going on to these sites, or the net in general, it’s just that as newcomers we have to earn the right. To the best of my ability I did earn it the first day but never again since. I do it anyway as I get bored and frustrated and as in the previous post I don’t ask for help so when I can’t get on with my work I need something to do!

(Some one to do at the moment would be all right at well. It’s been a while. The last time I was touched by a man was a kiss on the cheek to say goodbye and good luck. This was the night before we started this job for real. Golly; that wet warmth was nice, however brief. By the way he’s the flirtiest and only married person in our group. He has this habit of winking when he talks to you. I’m going to stereotype him and say it’s part of his South American and Latin charm. That is to suggest it is his way rather than any particular interest in me. I thought he had blue eyes but today when the sunlight caught them I discovered they glowed like honey).

I'm too scared to talk to Rhett. In fact it took me ages to talk to Miguel the aforementioned SME and the guy Q Cing my work, that's Quality Checking people. He's checked one and it needs a rework. I still have my doubts any of this is every going to make sense.

It’s weird though, being caught, because it’s broken the ice. I went up to ask a question and it felt all right. Maybe it was because he came around and offered the help. I don’t know, but as long as that mental block of mine is gone who cares! Sing Hallelujah! The more I over hear the new people the more I see how we’re all in the same boat. That only gives me comfort when I'm still thinking rationally but once I get in a state I just think, "They're going to get rid of me they're going to get rid of me!"

I actually miss cleaning - bite my tongue! In that at least I knew what I was doing and could get on with it. I don't know why I can't ask. I know it's all right to and perfectly understandable but something is blocking me. I don't really want to go over this in therapy again. Thinking inward repression my have to be my damaging route for the time being. I've told Terry that I don't want to talk about work with him any more. He got pissed off with me the night before when I rang him and repeatedly said I can't do it. I've been wondering today if anxiety pills would help at all. I could ask the therapist that. I do like this therapist but I'm starting to feel like my life is crap. The whole process can get you down. It can make me dwell on bad things.

Monday, 22 August 2011

Don't Ask

I’m such a phony; then again maybe not. I mean I’m not claiming to know what I’m doing or to be any good at it. It’s about half way through day three of “being on the floor,” which just means training is over and the rest of this six month contract is work, with a probation period in the middle. (I forget how long that is).WORST FEAR: That I won’t make it through probation. RESULT: My self-esteem goes for a bungee jump without the bungee chord. It’s okay though, I’m back in therapy so it’s only metaphorical suicide I’d be committing.

Even the money – which I need quite badly – doesn’t seem that good now. It’s heaps more than cleaning but partly because it’s more hours rather than a better rate. I think I’m one of the few people from my training group who has to suffer the bite in my pay packet from the HECS monster. At $49 a week the government’s gonna own my arse for the rest of my life! Bastards! On the bright side it does make me feel a bit more grown up. So far in my work life I’ve only had one other job that paid enough to make it necessary to pay HECS. (That job lasted a week in the end). I can get pissed off with my friends who also went to uni and are “suffering” the consequences.

I rang my mum near the end of my second day telling her how lost I was feeling. She sounded a bit pissed off with me. The tone of her voice as if to say, Don’t fuck this up Amy! I admit I do get panicky with new situations but a little sympathy please. Granted she’s under a lot of financial pressure. The regular doom and gloom of being low income coupled with the savings gobbling price of rent has been made worse by my father’s recent passing. Didn’t help any that he lived overseas and we decided we had to go. I know owe my mother money for the trip over. And she in turn owes family and friends money. Her safety net is gone. One day we may get money from the will but it’s not much compensation. Especially emotionally.

My biggest problem with the job is being too shy and stupid to ask for help when I need it. I can’t help but feel like a moron because when I do ask for help it’s not long before I need more! I know it’s my lack of experience but when I look at my work I can’t always tell if I’m finished or not. There are all these hyperlinks and codes. AGH! And sometimes you feel like you’re going around in circles.

I actually told my therapist this would be my biggest hurdle; asking for help. Even though I know it’s not a bad thing I still find it hard to do it. She said to remind myself it’s okay to ask; that it’s expected, especially at this stage of the job, and to tell myself, “What’s the worst that could happen?” I know, I know, I know, BUT! I can’t…. I’m seeing her tomorrow morning. I’ll get to confess but I won’t feel any better.