I got a job. Doing web stuff and product photography for a small Internet niche retailer. I can't really tell you want the company sells because it would be too easy for you to figure out what the company is. So let's say they sell cupcakes. And cupcake related novelties. And basically anything that could arguably fit in to the "cupcake lifestyle". You wouldn't believe the crazy cupcake stuff there is out there for people to buy. Ceramic cupcake salt and pepper shakers with jack-o-lanterns and snowmen on them, kids clothes, wall hangings, flags, soaps, jewelry. Notepads. T-shirts. Fake tattoos. There is a whole subculture of people, apparently, who REALLY like cupcakes and who support a sizeable industry of cupcake related businesses. It's crazy. Sounds like a good job, right? Taking pictures of cupcakes and doing webstuff? Well, it was a good job, For a few days. Very quickly I realized that although I liked all the people I worked with (all FIVE of them) they have a deeply dysfunctional way of working with each other. There is this weird passive aggressive undercurrent that I find poisonous, and most of them react to ANY stimulus with straight-up frantic panic. Which is a terrible way to react to issues that come up at work because, really, work is usually just a series of issues that one has to deal with, that's why they call it work. And if you react to every part of your job as if someone just lit your leg on fire you are a) going to get tired and stressed out very quickly, b) not going to be able to react when something actually does require special attention, c) going to drive ME batty. So I was getting a little batty. Then I started to get weird vague impressions that I wasn't doing as good a job as I they wanted. But I was actually doing a GREAT job. The pictures I was taking looked better than any of the pictures they had, and I was doing it quickly. The web stuff involved a learning curve but, again, I was doing it quickly and certainly as well as anyone else there, probably better. Admittedly I missed a detail here and there but well within the realm of acceptable mistakes. Truly, objectively. I was doing a good job. But, again, remember that there was the passive/aggressive non-communication thing going on, so all I could do was surmise and try and figure out what they were so upset about THIS time, and if they were actually upset about something or if they were just upset because upset is what they were normally. Ugh. Then Steve quit. Or so I gather. They told me, offhandedly, that he called in sick. That was the last we heard of Steve. Remember this is a company with FOUR remaining employees, and no one ever says a thing? Then last weekend I had to leave work early, 11:30, to go to my cousins wedding in Ft. Wayne Indiana (had a lovely time, a bit more on that later). I had asked for the time off more than a month before, so it was no big deal. I got into work on Friday morning, did my usual stuff for a while, finished off a few pictures from Thursday night, talked to one of my coworkers about the log of items that needed photographs (a very exciting Brazilian plaster of paris cupcake birdbath had just arrived), set up my camera (did I mention that I had been using my own photo equipment for this?). I had decided that it might be better to leave closer to 11:00 than 11:30, and figured I'd ask my boss if it was OK with her and also see if there was a specific course of action she would like me to take because I was only there for a few hours anyway. It was about 9:15 at this point. I asked her and she said, sharply, without looking me in the eye "You know, Chris, it bothers me when you come in late and want to leave early". Suddenly I remembered the memo that had appeared, in duplicate, on my desk the week before, with a post-it instructing me to sign. It stated the official business hours of CupCakeFrenzy.com LLC (8:30 to 5:00, M-F), that if we HAD to call in sick we MUST call in before business hours started, that we got two free 15 minute breaks and 45 minutes for lunch ("Sweet!", I thought at the time, "I've never taken ANY 15 minute breaks, and I've been only taking a half hour for lunch! Right freaking on!") I was stunned. me: "I wasn't late!" She: "You just got here!" me: "I'VE BEEN HERE SINCE 8:30!!" I suppose, thinking about it after the fact, that I might have been in the neighborhood of 5 minutes late or early. At most. I honestly hadn't noticed. But I am sure that in the two months I had been working there I had never been later than a few minutes, had never left early or taken a day off, had come into work even though I was sick (and was the only employee, boss included, who hadn't called in sick, come in very late, left very early or taken off for a few hours in the middle of the day), I even came into work after my bike accident (did I mention that I got into a pretty gnarly bike accident?). But because the boss hadn't SEEN me come in, I guess, she assumed that I hadn't actually been there until she DID see me, which, depending on when she wandered by my office, or I wandered by hers, could be as late as noon. Later, even. Is this possible? Isn't that one of those cognitive things that even houseflies and squirrels and bosses can supposedly do, understand that an object can exist even if it is not currently in their view? But of course, because at CupCakeFrenzy.com no one will actually EVER say what is REALLY going on (although you are encouraged to make a lot of noise about nothing, ALL THE TIME), I had NO idea that she had such an cockamamie impression. All I got was a memo, distributed to everyone, telling me that I hadn't been taking enough breaks, and that the ones I had been taking I hadn't been taking long enough. Silly me for missing the point. I'm guessing also that she hadn't asked any of the other people I worked with about my timeliness because I am pretty sure they would have, at the very least, told the truth. Which is that I wasn't late in any sort of problematic way. Again, it is possible that I had been a few minutes late here and there. I took the bus to work for the most part, and it was scheduled to get in directly across the street at 8:27. It is surely within the realm of possibility that it was a few minutes behind (or ahead of!) schedule from time to time. I had no reason to think it was an issue so I didn't. I was pretty pissed. I had been annoyed by this job already and I had had enough. I talked to Erin about it on the way to the airport, and on the plane. We decided I should probably just find a new job. We went to the wedding, it was great. Got to see, essentially, my whole family (that side of it, anyway), got to spend a lot of quality time with my brothers (including the part where Elana talked the Hotels shuttle bus driver into taking us in the shuttle bus through the Wendy's drive-thru. Ha!) It's amazing, my cousin Allie, who got married: I remember when she was just born. That is crazy. I am so happy for her. I like her fella a lot, and have thought he was a good match for her since the day I met him. Anyway, while at the wedding Eian, my oldest brother, re-convinced Erin and I that we REALLY ought to try and buy a house now. Sooner rather than later. He is even willing to help us get the ball rolling a bit, financially (which is too kind and generous for words, totally unexpected, and yet totally in keeping with the kindness and generosity that Eian and Chris have pouring off them in waves). We decided we'd find a house to try and buy as soon as we got back, and that unfortunately I would just have to stick with CupCakeFrenzy.com until, at least, we got our mortgage in place. Suboptimal, but doable. Tuesday morning, just sort of killing time before work, I was looking at the local online classifieds and I saw a compelling ad. An ad for my job. Not the job I wanted, literally an ad for the job that I was currently employed in. They were going to fire me! Unbelievable. But I guess you can see where this goes. I had to quit. I came into work and wandered around for twenty minutes or so with both arms extended, flipping the big bird at anyone who would look at me, singing "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU! FUCK AAAAAAAAAAAAAALL OF YOU! FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU! IIIIIIIIIII QUIT! FUUUUUUUUUCK YOU!". Yeah, yeah. I came into work, kept my head down, gathered up my stuff, came home, conferred with the missus, wrote a long e-mail detailing my grievances and quit. So now I am looking again. But we are still trying to buy a house. and remember, it wasn't really cupcakes.