long live The Book

Disappointed. Disappointed that I failed to get the transfer. "Failure" being the crux of the disappointment. The job itself wasn't the most wondrous and inspiring position, but I still failed.

Pissed. Pissed that I found out through the office gossip chain instead of from people who conducted the interviews. I found out when a coworker remarked, "Too bad you didn't get the transfer." Say what?! Fucking show me an iota of respect and let me know that I didn't get the job so I'm not blindsided by this shit.

Relieved. Relieved that it's status quo for a bit longer. I'm lucky to have the job that I have. I e-surf and I masturbate all day. It wasn't always like this. Three years ago, when I started this job, my position was a chaotic mess. After two years of hard work and procedural development I have automated my job to the point where, for all practical purposes, I'm really not necessary. (Don't tell my boss, though.) I might as well kick back and reap the benefits of my invested efforts.

Pissed, again. Pissed that I bumped into one of the interviewers in the hall and she told me "confidentially" that I didn't have the technical knowledge for the position. Normally, I'd take this insight in stride. Nothing I could've done differently; asphalt just isn't my specialty. However, this is the same lady that begged me to apply for the job. When she begged I expressed my concern that I was out of my technical depth and she assured me that she was looking for potential not expertise. Lies.

Enlightened. Enlightened by the epiphany that once I pass the P.E. Exam I will need to move on. Change is coming. Later or sooner, it doesn't matter.
...and so it was written, shenry at 3/22/2004 02:15:00 PM.
...and so it was appended with .