No words. Only acknowledgement. My blog started nine years ago and still exists. Yes, I’m surprised. But happy.
I stopped making resolutions long ago. Mostly because I don’t keep them, or I do keep them and regret it. My only resolution this year is to have a good year, and that’s probably too much to ask.
That said, some good things have already happened within the first four days of the new year. My job transfer request was approved, so I will have a full-time job again. My boyfriend and I were able to leave all the fighting in 2019, and I mean that almost literally since we made up on New Year’s Eve. I now have a counter for the number of days we go without fighting. Finally, I paid off one of my credit cards in full. I got hit with interest charges on the day of the last payment, but I had enough to cover that, so the balance will be zero. I plan to work on my debt this year, going from smallest balance to highest. Apparently, there’s a name for that. It’s called the snowball technique. I don’t care what it’s called. It’s simply how I want to do it.
It is hard to believe a whole decade is over. The start of the decade and the end of it were the worst years of my life. The new 20s are off to a good start for me, so perhaps they’ll have a good end. Of course, I can’t imagine that far ahead.
I considered doing a “one post a day” challenge, similar to “post a week” I did years ago, but quality matters more than quantity. Of course, the jury is out on whether this blog has any quality since it’s ultimately a journal of my life.
Today is my 90th of employment at my warehouse job. Woohoo!
I also finally turned in my resignation notice to my retail job. I am no longer on call. I am not their employee anymore. One of my former managers recently posted how much the store looks like trash after she visited, and while the unexpected validation was unnecessary, I consider it reassuring of my choice. Ironically, and funny, the store finally got a new store manager one day after I quit.
What is so special about ninety days? First, and most importantly to me, I think it’s safe to say I’m… safe. If I haven’t been fired by now, I don’t have much reason to expect it. Second, it means I’ve finally managed to hold on to a job that’s not retail. Granted, at three months, I was proclaiming I love my retail job too, but that was before the store fell into the deepest pit of hell. Even back then, the store had some problems I simply didn’t have enough experience to see yet, but no workplace is perfect.
The most significant difference to me is the pay rate. I know there’s more a job than money, but let’s face it: we all have bills to pay. But I’m not talking solely about base pay. I’m talking about where it goes.
In retail, I started at $9/hr. Three years later, I left at $10.41. That would be a big deal if not for two facts: the extra dollar came from a temporary promotion (company policy forbids withdrawing a raise), and new employees with zero experience (like I started with) for the same position would be hired at $11/hr. Unsurprisingly, that contributed to some of the employees who had experience jumping ship (not that most of the new ones stayed for long). The other matter is you get a twenty cent raise once a year. In other words, if my state’s minimum wage hadn’t risen this past summer, I would’ve gotten a 41 cent raise in three years.
Meanwhile, at my warehouse job, I got a 75 cent raise. Please refer back to the title of this post.
Three years to get a raise of less than half a dollar or three months to get a raise of 3/4ths of a dollar? Tough choice.
Yes, I realize that depends on the workplace itself rather than the industry, but that doesn’t invalidate my point. I’ve been told there’s often a better chance of making more money by switching jobs than switching positions in a job. Which means I likely will have to leave my warehouse job someday if I want more money. For now, it works for me, so not someday soon.
180 days – six months – will be in January. Let’s see if I can leave this year with this job.
April 9th was the night of my graduation ceremony. My boyfriend, my best friend, my mother, and my sister attended. The latter two invited themselves, but I didn’t want to argue and they behaved. The ceremony was no more than an hour long. I didn’t receive any awards, but I did walk across the stage and receive my certificate in the end. One of my classmates (who did receive awards) told me not to feel bad because the awards are superficial anyway. I suppose she’s not wrong, but I still wish I got something for a special achievement.
Minus that, it was a proud night. Pictures were taken, and I got one with my boyfriend and best friend together, which is my favorite. I said I wanted to graduate college. Trade school is close enough. And I didn’t have to go for four years (or two)!
That said, though I’m glad I finished and went back despite the mishaps, I am very happy it’s over! No more school! Ever!