The Devil Wears Jos. A. Bank

I came back from Mexico refreshed, feeling a general sense of renewal. I was ready to tackle my fitness plans, the plans we had for the house, fixing up the garden, everything.

Yeah.

That’s all gone, after just one day back at work.

My shoulders have re-tightened to full tension. As I got out of the car this morning, I experienced chest pains- maybe stress related indigestion, maybe worse. My stomach is in major retaliation mode. I am starting to feel as though I’m trapped in The Devil Wears Prada, except with all the glamour stripped away. Or perhaps, I’m creating my own version of Super Size Me, except I’ve substituted a diet of bullshit for the McDonald’s food.

I'm supposedly salaried, but since I didn't have the entirety of my vacation time accrued, I'm taking a 16-hour pay cut for this check because of the honeymoon. Gee, doesn’t that translate to being hourly (which should, according to federal law, entitle me to OVERTIME PAY)?!? One of the perks of being "salaried," I thought, was having a more flexible schedule. Instead, I feel as though I should be wearing a smock and punching a timeclock, with the way they nickel-and-dime how many hours I've worked.

There is a meeting today, at noon, which I thought was at 1:00. It has always been on Wednesday at 1:00, and I was not told, nor received any e-mail, to the contrary. I am annoyed for a couple of reasons:

1. It is at lunchtime. Lunchtime! I need that hour to get the hell out of here, at least mentally, if not physically! And…lunch! Are we not supposed to eat? CADMonkey no eat, CADMonkey get very very cranky. And kinda faint.
2. Memo? E-mail? Something to let me know about this before BossManJ is looking at me like I’m a flaming idiot in front of three other people??

Again, I will send out resumes. I am resisting the urge to call and ask where I went wrong with the places that haven’t hired me. In a way, it’s akin to the failed relationships of my past.

[sniffle]
“But the interview went so well. I was sure you’d want to see me again. Whyyyyy don’t you like me anymorrrrre?” [honks into tissue]

“It’s not you, it’s us.”

I’m going to try GFF again, because I still really want to work there. I tried right out of school, I tried while at the last place, and now I’m going to try again. My tactic is, apparently, to annoy them into submission.

I derive a guilty pleasure from sending out resumes during work hours; almost like I’m a resume exhibitionist- the excitement stems from the fear of getting caught.