It goes without saying that Fred offered me a job after only chatting with him for a half hour or so. He was impressed with both my continued architectural history as well as my knowledge of AutoCAD and the systems behind it. "We're always having to call in our outside consultant when something goes wrong. It would be nice to have someone in house who can troubleshoot this stuff."
From my Journal of July 9th that year:
I called Fred yesterday morning with every intention of turning down their offer. I knew I was probably throwing away a great opportunity, and the thought of going through this whole temp thing one more time didn't exactly appeal to me, but the more I thought about what Jim (Fred's partner) had said during our interview last Wednesday, the more I was convinced this was not some place I wanted to work. However, after voicing my concerns about working hours and overtime with Fred it became abundantly clear that, unlike Jim, he was willing to make whatever reasonable accommodations were necessary to get me in there. When I questioned him about this, Fred said, "Aw hell, you aren't going to be working with him anyway." Yeah, right.
Someday I'm going to start listening to my inner voice, because this was most certainly not one of them. Things started to sour almost immediately, as the job I was promised by Fred was most certainly not the job his partner had me performing.
From the resignation letter I left on Fred's desk the day I walked out:
Despite your assurances that I was not hired as simply a "warm body to fill a chair" that's exactly the feeling I've gotten since I started working here. It became increasingly obvious that my getting any sort of IS responsibility was never going to happen; control of that system is never going to be wrested from the other members of your management team. As just one example, the ongoing problems with Lisa's computer could be easily solved if anyone had bothered to listen to what I had to say. Unfortunately it was always the mantra of "Call Emron! Call Emron!" whenever something went wrong, even though the man has demonstrated again and again his inability to provide long-term solutions to these problems. I even got to the point where I stopped fixing the easily-repairable glitches with my own setup because I've received the definite message from above that I'm not to touch anything. Fred, I've built systems as complex as yours from scratch and don't appreciate being treated as if I don't know where the on/off switch is by management personnel who have demonstrated time and again they don't know an icon from a hole in the ground.
So two months later, after receiving (and cashing) my pay check, I left my resignation letter on Fred's desk and walked out after lunch.
I did find work in the I.T. department of one of the country's most prestigious law firms in the country shortly thereafter. While stressful, I learned a lot, made friends whom I'm still in contact with these many years later, and decided that yes, this was the career for me.
Unfortunately, that all fell apart about eighteen months later, when the management team left en masse, resulting in the promotion of a micro-managing mess (who had no leadership experience and even less people skills) to oversee the department. Within months, all of the desktop techs (including myself) had quit.
I spent one more short period of time working as a temp at St. Mary's Hospital. I'd been referred by a previous coworker from the law firm, who had left St. Mary's for a permanent position at another business. The money was good. Too good. (Something else that's been a red flag for me in years since.)
The department was run by a nurse, who attempted to police us as if we were nursing staff. One morning I arrived ten minutes late and was told my tardiness would go on my permanent record. I bit my lip to prevent laughing to her face and saying, "Bitch, I'm a contractor. I don't care about your permanent record bullshit." I quit shortly thereafter. It was no wonder they couldn't keep people…
My romantic life continued to be a hot mess, although there were no lack of sizzling encounters. My journals for those last years of my 30s are littered with the names of men I hooked up with but whose faces I cannot recall for the life of me. Again, I think unrelenting search for connection stems from the underlying loneliness I wrote of earlier.
My housemate Michael, however, was doing much better on the romantic front, and started dating a man named Raymond. Raymond and I did not get along, and while it hurt me deeply, it came as no surprise when Michael announced that they were moving in together, and I would have to find another place to live.
At this point, with both my professional and romantic lives in shambles, there was precious little holding me in San Francisco. After arranging to stay in my Mom's spare room until I found work, I packed up and moved back to Arizona again.
Michael and I did not part on good terms, despite our near ten-year friendship. I left without saying goodbye. (Michael and I have long since patched things up and he now one of my closest confidants.)
Long story short, I ended up back in Phoenix in my mom's spare bedroom. I found a job relatively quickly at Avnet, and ended up celebrating my 40th by myself; all my long-time friends still in SF.
(To be continued.)