Booshie Ass First World Problems

Someone recently described my current job situation as being in golden handcuffs. Ain’t that the mother fucking truth.

I’ve moved around the continent over the last 12 years, thus having a variety of jobs. All have been in some kind of social service/helping field. All have allowed me to be in direct contact with my populations of service. These jobs have kept me in the community and not an office.

I’m writing this from my desk in an office.

I audit, make graphs, and sit in meetings. I know that I’m still helping people—just indirectly.

We’ve all had that job we don’t look forward to each morning. I try to keep in perspective that although I’ve like most of the work I’ve done in the past, I haven’t always had the best bosses and/or coworkers. I recall one job where I disliked my boss so much I often cried on the way to work. (I cried in bathrooms at that job too.) Though I’m not enamored with my coworkers and boss, they are not malevolent people. My boss isn’t a jerk or asshole. He doesn’t micromanage. But he isn’t passionate about anything. There’s no fire. I chose the social service field because I’m passionate about helping others. Each day that passion is a flame snuffed out. Really, the candle isn’t even lit anymore.

So leave you say. Go find a job you love.

I’ve tried.

Nothing pays as well as this job.

I’m making the most money of all the jobs in my life. I have never seen a biweekly paycheck this big. I buy the good toilet paper now and live in an apartment where dead bodies aren’t found on my morning dog walk. (Yep. That’s a true story about my last apartment.)  I don’t worry as much about money. I know I can pay the bills, even the unexpected ones. I have a freaking retirement plan!

Are there other opportunities at this company you ask. Maybe at some point, but not right now and not anything that’d be better.

This is one of the least stressful jobs I’ve ever had. Sure, there’s a woman who sends me bitchy emails and forces confrontation upon me, but it’s manageable. We sit on different floors and see each other five times a month at most. I work 40 hours and never a minute more. I have time to write this blog post…

So what do I do? Stay at a job that brings me not a lick of personal fulfillment, or take one of the other jobs offered to me for less money, more work, and more satisfaction? (I’ve been on a few interviews. OK, a lot of interviews.)

I ask myself this question damn near every day. I’ll let you know when I have an answer. For now, I’m going to eat my lunch that does not consist of dried noodles in a cup or anything made out of meat from a can.