Apr 12, 2006

Job Dissatisfaction

(originally posted at eclaircie.diaryland.com)

They are going to redo the way the administration building is set up over this next summer. And everything will be reorganized. Admissions and financial aid are going to be put together, which means my job will be different. They’ve promised that none of us will lose our jobs or get less pay, but we’ll be doing different things. The plans are tentative and change every few days, but it looks like most likely I’ll be working in an information call center for admissions and financial aid. I don’t really want to work on the phone all day. I like my window where I can see the people I talk to and watch people walk up and down the halls and occasionally shoot rubber bands down the hall when it’s just Blake and me around. And instead some stinky old Scholarship office employee will probably be sitting at my desk and using my phone and looking out my window. Besides right now the call center people are the ones we make fun of for being totally incompetent. We get some phone calls here and probably about 85% of them are from the call center students. Whenever they don’t know what to do with a caller, they transfer it to our office where I take care of it. They are there for information but somehow have been working the job without a single shred of knowledge about BYU policy on anything. So it feels like a demotion, even if there actually isn’t the higher level of information anymore. However, there is talk of us getting a pay raise, since we will have to be trained on financial aid stuff as well, so it might not be all bad.

The morning shift today got to go to the storage shed and clean/organize it. I’m so jealous. They got to wear jeans to work today! You don’t understand the jean envy that I feel. There has been many a morning that I’ll sit there and stare at my pants drawer, longingly gazing at the right side, where the jeans are, while occasionally giving dirty looks to my other pants on the left. And sometimes I just about want to punch Emilee in the face when we’re getting dressed together and there she is, slipping on something denim and there I am, in khakis again. Occasionally black slacks or a skirt, but that’s the only respite I get. And the stupid morning crew left all of their imaging for us to do. I bet they didn’t organize the storage shed as well as I would have.

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