I've decided to not post the long tale of my departure from Job X here at the Church of the Big Sky. I will post an abbreviated version of the immediate events of that day on the anniversary of me getting the shaft, but the rest of it? The key elements will go, in a well edited and smartly detailed version, to the Inspector General of that particular federal agency. And they can do with it what they wish - act on it, investigate it, ignore it, or throw it in the trash, for all I care at this point. I've not painted myself as a saint in this document, for certain. But I'm sure as hell not some crazy whackjob. Yet, I'm the one who was escorted out of the office, humiliated and tagged as a threat for reading a news story over the phone. (More on that next Thursday.)
Why did I decide to edit myself here?
I'll tell you. It's for a couple of reasons.
The first is that, today, I've already had twenty hits on my blog specifically from my old office. (Damn, that's a lot of blog-reading on taxpayer money.) And one of those hits was a search to see if my friend the Alasko-American has a blog. (She doesn't. You can stop looking. The director of Job X scared her enough for her to stop using her First Amendment rights online, thank you very much.) That troubles me. The Alasko-American doesn't deserve any persecution courtesy of me and my blog, and I'm not giving the management of Job X any satisfaction in hunting my friends. So, there's Reason Numero Uno.
Reason Numero Dos? Well... here I am, sitting in my favorite coffee shop, in between doctors' appointments, on a magnificently sunny day off from the best job I've ever had, and I realized that, very truly, living well is the best revenge. (I'm actually taking a quick break from reviewing a grant proposal right now - you know you love a job when you're happy to read government grant proposals on a day off!) I'm no longer in a place where nepotism is a popular concept, where complaints about poor treatment and sexism are belittled, and where I am a second class citizen. I work in an atmosphere where my skills are appreciated and my opinion valued. Even when things are tough and deadlines are pounding my brain, I love getting into my office.
You can ask the Sasquatch. I'm a different person than I was twelve months ago. I'm really, genuinely happy for the first time in years. (Hell, even my skin is better and, most nights, I sleep now.)
I'm no longer partnered up with a sad, misogynistic weasel or a princess who thinks I'm too uncouth and graceless to work with. I'm not listening to people fight with their spouses over the phone (a bad idea with your office door open, by the way.) I'm also not listening to management 'n' friends talk about how much they're looking forward to me being gone (another bad idea with your office door open, folks. Delightfully inappropriate!) I'm not in a poisonous place anymore.
I'm in a crazy-busy place, for sure, but it's incredibly dynamic and positive. I feel so much more free now. And healthier, by a mile. I wish this kind of work atmosphere for you all.
Respect and appreciation and the offer of simple decency.
It may sound trite, but those things really are beautiful, especially when you've come from a very dark place.
My father's family is from Ireland, and the motto on our family crest is "Percussus Resurgo." Struck down, I rise again. And, so I have. I was down, but not out. And I'm back up again, folks.
Job X be damned.
Now, off to revel in the 75+ degrees. It's a good day to be alive.