Upheaval

October 24

I got lots of news at work yesterday. First, I’m getting a 15% raise. Well, that’s good —I’ll be making almost as much as I did at Lowe’s, which is far more than I require to live comfortably, even in super-expensive Santa Cruz. Second, I’m getting a big bonus—equivalent almost to what I make in a month. Hooray, again.

Third, part of my office is moving. So if I want to keep this job, I have to move.

In January.

To a small town.

In Nevada.

A town which, as far as I can, tell doesn’t even have a bookstore, and certainly doesn’t have any of the other amenities I enjoy, like, say, trees.

I can understand the move; it makes sense for the company. Property in Santa Cruz is prohibitively expensive. It’s basically impossible for anyone who isn’t wealthy to buy a house-- rents here are like mortgage payments, so actual mortgage payments… well, it’s pretty absurd. Nevada has no state income tax, it’s financially a lot more viable, both for the company and for long-term employees who’d like to buy homes.

But, since I don’t give two craps about money as long as I have enough to pay the bills and keep myself in coffee and ice cream and used books, the move isn’t so good for me. I’ve lived in towns with absolutely no cultural life, and I don’t want to do it again. I just signed a lease on a house I really like. I didn’t move out here for the job; I moved out here to be out here. Still, I spent most of yesterday agonizing and feeling torn. Should I move, and keep the job security? Should I stay, and have to go through the whole horrid job-hunt over again? (I hate looking for jobs, I despise the whole process)

I finally decided to stay in Santa Cruz and find another job. I might not like it as much as I like working at BD, but I know I wouldn’t be happy in a little town with no trees. Maybe if I skied or snowboarded or enjoyed riding around in boats or something I’d go—the town isn’t far from Lake Tahoe. But I don’t like those things. Gambling bores me. The only reason I even considered moving is because I hate having to find a new job, but eventually I realized the rather obvious fact that the hassle of finding a new job will be no worse than the hassle of moving to Nevada. So I’m decided.

And things aren’t so bad. It’s not like I need to find a new job tomorrow. I’m gainfully employed until late January, so I’ve got nearly 3 months to look for other work. Plus, I’ve got a pretty fair tech-writing portfolio started now, so my job-options are expanded.

(The above is me trying to convince myself that things won’t be so bad. Interviews. Résumés. Bleah.)

The worst part is, I like this job. I mean, I hate it—but only in the way that I hate all jobs, because they steal from my writing-time and my enjoying-life-time. I hate this job the least of any I’ve ever had (with the possible exception of my antique store job, where I sat on a stool and read and chatted with junkers and wrote fiction all day—but that didn’t pay very much, so it’s a trade-off). I’ll probably hate my next job, whatever it is, lots more.

Sigh.