An incredibly long-ass day.

An incredibly long-ass day. The kind of day that makes you question all of the life choices you’ve made to lead you up to the place where you crawl in traffic for almost two hours a day, eat overpriced food for lunch, drink excessive amounts of caffeinated beverages, barely hide your contempt for the people who work with you. You know, the kind of day you had for about fifteen years before thinking that perhaps you were someone special who was made to not work an ordinary 8-5 office job.
God seems pretty far away on days like this, when you wake up from restless nights of unspeakable dreams that mostly cause you to stay awake and worry about all of the money you owe people and the precarious situation you are in–you would love nothing more than to walk away from this job, but this time, you really can’t. You have to tough it out for at least another eight months before you can even think of starting to apply to something modestly better than this.
You work somewhere where the business model seems to be more or less a gasping act of desperation to win the kind of business that made the company relevant once upon a time. Not that this is an unfamiliar tune, or anything.
This seems to be your area of specialty–finding companies and non-profits who were pioneers in their areas of business, but failed to innovate and keep up with their changing competitive landscapes. The translation company that missed the boat on localization and hybrid machine translation. The non-profit that missed the boat on the giving preferences of people under 50. The software company that developed a behemoth pile of SaaS for non-profits that required an act of God to update even the tiniest change to its UI. And so on. And now this weird company that offered something in 2012 that was awesome but is now been out-innovated many times over by its competition to the point where it struggles to craft a vision statement that sounds like it even makes sense from the perspective of being a real business plan.
And here you are, because nobody else would hire you, and you got sick of hanging on for the next recruiter to come along and get you into the door with a hiring manager who wouldn’t even send you a boilerplate rejection letter. You are here because you somehow believe that this choice will ultimately be better for your family, though it’s exceptionally hard on days like this to see how this will become a reality. All it will take is one layoff coupled with an economic downturn, and you could very well lose everything and have to start over again in some unthinkable fashion like living in shitty apartments or with in-laws or working five jobs.

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