Employment ho!

No, not that kind of ho. I have not turned to sex work out of desperation. That's 'ho!' as in 'land ho!', as in what delirious and scurvy ridden sailors would scream in relief when they finally saw something other than ocean after months of drifting aimlessly in becalmed waters. 

What I am trying to say in a metaphorical sort of way (the ocean represents unemployment, just in case you hadn't caught that) is that I have a job. Huzzah!

A couple of weeks ago I got a call from a friend at the bookshop where I used to work who gave me the phone number of a guy who runs a small publishing company here on the Northern Beaches. He had just taken on a lot of new business and was looking for someone to go in for a couple of weeks to help out with some admin stuff. So I called him, and at 8:30 the next day I presented myself to start work. Somehow or other he must have got the impression that I am in some way not a complete waste of space, because by Friday he had offered me a full time position.

I was a bit ambivalent about starting work in another publishing company, given that my previous publishing company job had left me with severe stress issues that made my hair fall out. So I was cautious. 

And I had been pretty apathetic about looking for another job, because I just could not stand the thought of working in an office environment again. But by the end of my second day I started to realise that either this place is absurdly nice or  - and this is what I'm leaning more towards - my last job was just flat out toxic. In my previous job at X Publishing Company, no one talked to me for the first month. I had no idea what I was doing, or who to ask when I had problems. People who were supposed to be my colleagues treated me like I was the enemy, and gave me no support. I had four bosses, none of whom took any interest in me other than to tell me they were disappointed in my progress. I'm reading a book at the moment which has a great description of this feeling. The character is talking about her experience working in a publishing company;

I used to cry, every night, literally, I would get a milkshake and put vodka in it and cry because I thought I must be stupid. I had these dreams, every night, where everybody speaks some foreign language and I don't know it.'

I hated every minute of my time there. 

And now at this new place.. I feel cautiously optimistic. During my first week there, if anyone was walking past my desk they'd stop and ask if I needed anything. On my first day I had three people offer to show me where the shops are. I was introduced to someone who was my designated 'question answerer', who I would go to with any problems.

And what is more, instead of being an hour's journey through the rush hour traffic, my office is just twenty minutes up the road in an area that feels almost rural. There are small farms behind the business centre where I work, with horses and ducks and alpacas. Alpacas! If I so choose, I can walk through the bush instead of along the road to get to work;

There's a garden centre with a nice cafe a block away and the beach is a ten minute walk down the road. And the warehouse attached to the office is full of thousands and thousands of books. All that separates me from more books that I could read in a lifetime is a flimsy door that the suckers don't even bother to lock during the day!

All in all, it seems pretty good. In fact, I am slightly suspicious. Is it too good? What nasty surprises are  lurking in wait? Maybe I'm being ridiculously pessimistic. But hopefully this will turn out to be a good thing. Please let it turn out to be a good thing.