Behind The Curtain

April 16, 2009 at 1:35 AM | Posted in The Corporate World | Leave a comment
  This may be seem disjointed and rambling, but there is a point that draws it all together.  I swear.

  The gas man came the morning and found the gas leak–praise the Lord–and then fixed it, and turned our gas back on.  I also asked him to do a couple of side jobs, but I’m wondering if he actually did them.  He says he did.  Maybe I should check.
  But all of this happened as a result of not paying the gas bill.  Of course, it was my sister who didn’t pay it, but I didn’t pay hers either, so hers got shut off as well.
  This goes to the subject of money, and not quite making enough.  I believe I have expounded on this quite enough for now, but you get the point.

  My friend Bunny warned me the other day, "I may call you later to vent–"
  And she did.  We both work here at the bank, but she’s been here a bit longer and is also more ambitious and aggressive.  She’s an AVP, an assistant vice president.  She’s also a manager of her department as well as a consumer loan officer.  She wears many hats, and she busts her ass with each one.
  Let’s see if I can condense this…hmmm…
  Currently she makes about 70k year.  manager’s salary, plus a manager incentive, plus a loan officer incentive for the consumer loans she closes.  Since she busts her ass, her incentive is quite a bit–and it’s more than her bosses want to pay her.
  Another position opened up, one that would allow her to be a mortgage loan officer.  This is the reason she came to work here.  LOs are the rainmakers, the gods.  They make one helluva lotta cash.
  Her immediate boss Chris, and his boss, Matt both told her these things:
  1)We can’t let you move into that new position, we need you here too much.
  2)We can’t pay you any more money to keep you here.
  3)We’re going to eliminate the manager incentive.
  4)We want you to become more of an analyst for other loans, which will cut your loan incentive severely.
 
  So, she’s so good at what she does that she has to stay where she is and make less money.  Probably a 20k per year cut.
  She went on to explain some of the details, some of the conversations with these people.  I knew some of this and could extrapolate the rest–but hearing the details was jaw-dropping.  She paused for a breath.   Bunny talks fast.
  I said, "I feel like I’ve had a glimpse behind the curtain of things I should not see." 
  She said this is what it’s like.  I said, "This is what it’s like at the bank you work at–" (again, we work at the same bank) "–at my bank, it’s all rainbows and kittens."  At my level, I see none of this. 
  Bunny is smart and experienced and not afraid to tackle the big boys.  She is going to find a way to move up, or she is going to leave for another place.  I don’t blame her.  But I’m not her.  I’m really not.  I can’t compete like she does, I can’t go-go-go like she does.  I just can’t.

  I had a conversation with a young man a few weeks ago about school and jobs.  He had me convinced that with my degree, gpa, experience and charm that I could easily get a high paying job in my field, and if I went back to school for my bachelors I would be a quadzillionaire with not-stop bitches on me.  Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but you get the point.
  And I considered it, too.  Either my chosen field of computer networking, or maybe an mba and something in banking, or maybe accounting or a CPA–they make alot of money.
  Originally I was going to school for engineering, which is a bit of a rigid discipline.  And I don’t mean throbbing, hard, and turgid.  I mean structured and analytical.
  While I do have some of that in me, I’m not much on structure.  Just based on my GPA and my ACT score, this was what my high school guidance counselor steered me towards.  You know, the reason I feel betrayed by it is because I thought he knew me.  It was a small school.  He knew me.  Because I couldn’t articulate what I wanted very well (something in art) he had me convinced that the only jobs in art were as an art teacher.
  Well, that’s not so, and what I coulda shoulda woulda done is commercial art and advertising.  I would have been fucking phenomenal at it.  Don’t tell me I wouldn’t.  I–
  Combine this with some alcohol-fueled conversations I’ve had with Mike at Domino’s about our individual careers, and you get some occupational introspection.
  What to do?
  I can continue working here at the bank and at Domino’s.  What’s my goal?  Well, I want to make enough money working one job to only need to work one job.
  Isn’t that a cop-out?  What’s my REAL goal?

  I was going to start out all kind of wishy-washy and pensive, like, "Well, I’d kinda like to be published, I guess.  Or something like that."
  But that’s too mushy.  What I have is more firm.  Turgid, if you will.  Erect.  I know what I want, I just don’t vocalize it much.  Maybe if I did, if I visualize it, I can make it happen.
  "If you will it, it is no dream." 
  I want to be published.  I want to write my damn books, and get published.  I want to write across many different genres, because those are the stories I have.  I don’t *really* want to be rich and famous.  I just want to be famous …and be financially okay.
  I want to write books and draw my comic strip, and publish that also.  I want to do animation and win an Oscar for best animated short.  I want to create, and I want people to see it, appreciate it, and like it.  That’s what I want. 
  These other things, these other jobs–at best they pay the bills.  At worst, they are an excuse to keep me from creating.  I keep saying "Once I get done with this–" or that, or the other, then I can concentrate on writing.  The epiphany I had just now is that there is *always* this, or that, or something in the way.   I can and I need to work around it.  Even if it’s just a little every day, or every night.
  For a while I thought I differently, but now I realize the truth:  Good Lord, I’m not getting any younger. 
  Detroit said, "I don’t care what you do as long as you are happy…and the bills are paid.  Without that caveat, who knows what the hell I would do.  As I thought about this quandary while I was telling Detroit and her mom, I realized that in some of these high-pressure but higher-paying positions I don’t know if I would be happy. 
  Happiness comes from pursuing your dream, maybe.  At least I have one.  I should pursue it.  I talked about it enough.

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