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How one day goes from pretty to pot:
Remember how I was soooo exicted to have a job back in May? Remember how school and work started conflicting with each other in August? Well, it's all came to a head today when both my bosses called me into a meeting this afternoon. The topic: "We like you and the work that you do for us. School should be your top priority. You've been great to work with us and we've worked with you. The problem is that your schedule isn't working for our schedule."
Crash. Bam. Shatter. Thanks for playing. Enjoy the consolation toaster.
Well, it's not that bad. I'm still working for the company, but only for four hours on Saturdays and as a backup when someone needs a day off. Maybe I'll have the job back in the summer, maybe not. I'll work the schedule I have now until they find a person for me to train and then -- yeah...
What I don't get is that the only thing I'm guilty of is going to school. They both kept going on and on how I've brought professionalism to the company and they love the work I've done and how I'm always willing to do what I'm asked and that life is great when I'm here... but school is, and should be, my top priority.
It's not like I deceived anybody here. When they gave a job interview -- before I was even hired -- I stated point-blank that I would be going back to school in the fall and I would need some understanding about my schedule. I understood that they understood and life was happy. I had a job in really happy and fortuitous circumstances, but now.... .... blarg...
To make matters worse, I curse my damned emotions. I fell apart right there in my boss's office and started bawling like a two-year-old. I hate that I cry at the drop of a hat. I'm sure that scored me points in professionalism.
I called my mom to break the bad news and she flew off like it was my fault. Okay, sure, I guess I could have dropped out of school and just sat down and decided this was my vocation in life. That conversation did not go as I had planned. Later, Dad called all pissed off, but it was because my brother is no longer has his starting position on the football team. Like they say: it's never just crap, it's diarrhea (okay, I just made that up. That's really disgusting, actually).
Now my face feels like it's glued on and I have a quiz in my Ancient and Medieval History class in the morning.
Can't a Wildcat ever catch a break?
Love from,
Jenny Wildcat
(who could use a good round of bunny blasting with mon frere)
Remember how I was soooo exicted to have a job back in May? Remember how school and work started conflicting with each other in August? Well, it's all came to a head today when both my bosses called me into a meeting this afternoon. The topic: "We like you and the work that you do for us. School should be your top priority. You've been great to work with us and we've worked with you. The problem is that your schedule isn't working for our schedule."
Crash. Bam. Shatter. Thanks for playing. Enjoy the consolation toaster.
Well, it's not that bad. I'm still working for the company, but only for four hours on Saturdays and as a backup when someone needs a day off. Maybe I'll have the job back in the summer, maybe not. I'll work the schedule I have now until they find a person for me to train and then -- yeah...
What I don't get is that the only thing I'm guilty of is going to school. They both kept going on and on how I've brought professionalism to the company and they love the work I've done and how I'm always willing to do what I'm asked and that life is great when I'm here... but school is, and should be, my top priority.
It's not like I deceived anybody here. When they gave a job interview -- before I was even hired -- I stated point-blank that I would be going back to school in the fall and I would need some understanding about my schedule. I understood that they understood and life was happy. I had a job in really happy and fortuitous circumstances, but now.... .... blarg...
To make matters worse, I curse my damned emotions. I fell apart right there in my boss's office and started bawling like a two-year-old. I hate that I cry at the drop of a hat. I'm sure that scored me points in professionalism.
I called my mom to break the bad news and she flew off like it was my fault. Okay, sure, I guess I could have dropped out of school and just sat down and decided this was my vocation in life. That conversation did not go as I had planned. Later, Dad called all pissed off, but it was because my brother is no longer has his starting position on the football team. Like they say: it's never just crap, it's diarrhea (okay, I just made that up. That's really disgusting, actually).
Now my face feels like it's glued on and I have a quiz in my Ancient and Medieval History class in the morning.
Can't a Wildcat ever catch a break?
Love from,
Jenny Wildcat
(who could use a good round of bunny blasting with mon frere)
