Finally!
I finally have a job! A real, permanent, full-time, salaried position at an international, historical, stable, not-for-profit organization that exists only to do good in the world. My job? To support the staff of the polio eradication division.
I’m supporting the staff of the polio eradication division! At a not-for-profit whose total reason for being in existence is to help others. This is the real-est job I’ve ever had. I actually have a sense of how my daily tasks have an impact on the greater world. We’re wiping out polio. It’s that direct and simple.
It’s not a writing or editing job, but there are writing and editing tasks involved. It’s basically an administrative support job, but that’s what I do well. So, it’s not the dream job, but it’s the next-best-dream job. Not the happy ending, but a happy ending. Bob and I are finally a two-income couple, which is how it should have been from the beginning. I’ve been dreaming of reaching DINK* status and now we’re there.
I’m so happy! I’m so grateful. I’m so RELIEVED. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time: a temporary work assignment turned into a permanent job. This is the third time this has happened for me in the past 15 years and it’s the way to go. I have always enjoyed jobs I got through temp agencies.
After three years of sweaty waitress uniforms, sore feet and holding my bladder through the dinner rush (which on Saturdays went on for hours), I’m back in a putty-colored cubicle with a sleek black computer and every weekend off. I have co-workers to whom I beam “good morning,” an employee ID I want to proudly wear to bed and oh, so many cupcakes to bake. There are staff social events and a 401k plan and an employee discount in the cafeteria. There are piles of papers to handle, emails to read and candy dishes to hunt down. I will nod my way through long, tedious afternoons, muscle my way through Mondays and serve on committees. I’ll find myself working late too often and wonder what the hell is happening to me.
It’s life in the hive and I’m home.
*DINK=dual income, no kids.
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