... is the realization that hit me on my way home from work today. To lead in to that, I should say that I aced my interview, and that the district manager for the company offered me a job on Tuesday. He offered me a certain sum which seemed good at the time (i should say i am awful with numbers) but which is only barely more than I am currently making. A large part of my pay would be bonuses, which are by no means guaranteed. Now, the commute will be considerably longer, because I will be taking a section of highway that is mentioned every day on the traffic reports during rush hour without fail. Normally, this drive would take me twenty-five to thirty minutes. With the sorts of traffic I'll be dealing with, I'm looking at at least twice that. For an extra twenty dollars a month? Not happening.
So. Right. I was thinking of all that on my way home to call this manager back today. I realized that I would feel bad about leaving Pep Boys, especially because my manager thinks I have a lot of potential. And that I would feel bad about turning down this job offer because it's really not worth it. And yet, I deserve to be happy. Yup, there it is. My revelation. I deserve to work in an environment where I'm not harried, angry, and frustrated every day. And at the same time, I deserve to be compensated for the hours I will be dedicating to a job. I do not deserve to be lowballed by a manager and promised some bonuses that may or may not show up. This will sound greedy, but "bonus" means extra. I need to know that my base pay will be enough to cover my bills and make it worth driving two hours a day and six days a week. I can't go to my landlord every few months and say, "sorry, no rent for you. I didn't make my bonus this month."
So I'm bargaining. I talked to the district manager and laid it out on the table. He's going to "see what he can do" and I'll talk to him again tomorrow. I'm not holding my breath, because he didn't sound particularly thrilled that I'm asking for more cash. I can see where he's coming from, he's got to keep payroll low and profits high in order to make his own bonuses. And yet, I've gotta eat, you know? With the hours I'm looking at picking up with this job (sixty-six one week, fifty-five the next, rotating back and forth), there won't be time for a second job. This will be my only income.
Right. That's enough of that. Sorry to babble so much about the work situation, it's been stressing me out a lot lately. Tonight, the yarn comes out of the freezer and gets to defrost while I look for signs of infestation. I'm fairly sure I'm safe, but I'm looking into bug-proof storage methods, nonetheless. I'm pretty certain my roommates won't tolerate me taking up an entire shelf in the freezer every time I get panicked by the local insect life. Of course, if they were knitters, they'd get it. So away goes the yarn, into something airtight and safe. At least, the wool does. I so like looking at my big basket of pretty yarn, too. Jim suggested plastic containers and moth balls, but I detest the smell of them. And besides, who wants to knit with something that smells like chemicals?
I'm being a bad adult and springing for pizza tonight, since I don't really feel like cooking. I'm not even picking it up, I'm having Colleen do it while she's out and about. But, lest you all think I am not a good, reliable adult type who slacks off of adultdom at every opportunity, I am going to do some chores. Eventually. Really. I swear.
Here's hoping the last day between everyone and the weekend goes quickly and without too much insanity. Here's hoping, as well, that the weekend is long, pleasant, and relaxing.