Mandatory Post-First Job Traumarama Entry
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
I left my job. In classic, fresh graduate pondering over Life as she sits bemused in her little office corner fashion. I don’t think I wasted any of my time, though, because it is crucial to try things out first, to get a more concrete sense of both what I want and am willing to do. And going home six nights a week drained, strained, and altogether miserable means that I am just not cut out for a steady stint writing copy. Especially in an agency where the projects are life-sappers in themselves (realestaterealestaterealestate), the workload is inhumane, and inter-office communication is shoddy. It felt ridiculously wrong to be so exhausted from piecing together sappy brochure text for land developments that I could only wring out a sentence or two of fiction each night. That is, if I hadn’t passed out on my bed by then. I did learn a lot about corporate communication, and while learning is always a good thing, I was unhappy. It didn’t feel right. Work shouldn’t have to get me all ecstatic, but neither should it suck all the cheer out of me.
This is all hackneyed first job introspection, obviously. But I’m not upset about it. If anything, I’m glad to have gone through the motions. I told myself a few years ago that as long as my job involved the written word, film, or radio and didn’t keep me from writing stories, I would be okay. But I wouldn’t have known which exact job did or didn’t fall under that, of course, so this whole cliché of a blog entry isn’t too revolting for me. Although it probably is for whoever else is reading this.
So I figured out through hands-on traumarama that I can’t do Creatives, Corporate-Style. It is just not my bag. Alright, then. Bow. I thank you.
posted by marguerite @ 6:00 PM
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