Oh, hey, it's February. It's weird here--the weather is so warm, it feels like April. But, anyway, Happy New Month!
Changes coming?
I. Job Performance Review: "I'm still... figuring it out."
Big Boss emailed me a job performance form yesterday, for me to fill out. He'd passed them out at a meeting I missed last Thursday––I'd excused myself, saying I had a mammogram (I did--on Saturday).
The form is in Perky Speak (™):
it asks you to to list your 6-month goals and rate yourself on a scale of, 'My best year yet!' to 'I'm still new here and figuring it out'.
BB has threatened/promised job reviews in the past––(there
were years I would have welcomed one)––but never once followed through. Will
he this time?
I got the sense, maybe so. If he doesn't get too busy.
I don't know why he would though. It's pointless. I asked around, and no one had taken it seriously. To begin with, as Mr Furniture (now driving the store truck) pointed out, there's no raise given for good performance.
The form even shows up what a bad workplace this is:
What's a good 6-month goal for people who hang up clothes for minimum wage?
I'd suggest, "Go slower, so I don't get repetitive stress injuries."
It's funny timing, because as I start to look for a new job, I have been thinking a lot about what I've done at the store.
But what should I say?
I copy-and-pasted this blog entry from almost exactly one year ago and emailed it back to Big Boss:
"This is not Little House on the Prairie".
It's one of my entries about walking the visiting seminarians (baby sems) around the neighborhood.
I included photos I'd taken last January too, in the gutter across the street where the drug dealers hung out, when I'd written, "If we can see through the ugliness we've created, we should (in theory) be able to perceive the beauty of the underlying matter itself. "
I wrote to BB:
"I journal almost daily, and I'd like to submit this entry about my life at the store as my Employee Self-Evaluation.II. Interview, Woo-sah
A few weeks ago, I'd asked you in the kitchen what you think I'm doing here.
You had no answer.
Me either! To sum it up, I'd choose this option on the evaluation form:
"I'm still... figuring it out."
Almost immediately--five minutes?--after I'd sent that email to BB, I got a phone call from the high school where I'd applied to be a special ed (SPED) aide two weeks ago.
Was I still interested in interviewing?
"Still"?
Yes!
The caller was a social worker--she sounded like she was rummaging on a desk covered in papers.
"I just want to explain what the job you applied for is," she said.
The students have ASD--that means they are autistic. (Yes, so the job title says.)
Some are high functioning, some not. (I gather that's why it's called a spectrum.)
The job is a 10 month position, June to August (I was confused--then realized she meant August to June)--though there is a possibility of summer school, that means you don't work for two months.
"When some people hear this, they are not interested."
I didn't say, "But that's all in the job description."
I did say that I have friends who work in SPED in the public schools and am familiar with the work, and I repeated that I'm excited to meet and discuss it.
So--yay! I go to the high school on Monday at noon. In person. "It's easier," she said. Yay, again: I was worried it would be Zoom.
I've been in suspended animation, waiting to hear, feeling a little uncertain if I even truly want a change...
But the second I got the phone call, in the midst of the farce of a job review, I was entirely sure I want to change.
PLEASE YES GOD
I was so nervous, I left work early and, breaking my new eating plan, took myself out for a pint of beer, a pizza slice, and ice cream.
The pizza had Canadian bacon on it--the first red meat I've eaten in more than a month.
(I checked with Penny Cooper--she's the sensible one, and she said it was okay, just the once.)
When I went for a mammogram last week, I'd weighed myself and was pleased to see I've lost a few pounds. (Not sure how many because I don't know what I started at.)
That's not the main goal, but it's related. The main goal is to eat better for my vital organs. I get blood tests again in a few weeks. One meal won't wreck them, I hope.
So! I'm nervous they'll think I'm too old, and/or too inexperienced with teens--but my 70-y.o. coworker in the SPED field says I'm a great fit, and they'll love me.
We'll see.
I'm glad I have the weekend to prepare. Not that I can become an expert in a weekend, but there are terms I will practice using--terms that are common enough, though NOT (not!) in my current workplace, such as positive reinforcement, active listening, validation of feelings...
The best term, I learned from Mr Furniture:
WOO-Saaah.
You breathe it while rubbing your earlobes--it's an emotional regulation trick from the movie Bad Boys II.
Just now I turned off comment-moderation, here on noodletoon. It's friendlier. (And I've had no problem comments.) A friend wrote that she's been enjoying this blog, and I agree that, as she said,
Fingers crossed for ya.
ReplyDeleteYes!!!
ReplyDeleteWeird weather here too