I have often been asked what I do for a living when I am not fulfilling my internet roles of professional BFF, amateur Fangirl, Quasi-Demonic Intergalactic Force of Evil, or Mad Scientist*. It has been hypothesized that someone as ineffably cool as I** must have an equally ineffably cool job, and once upon a time I DID have a cool job…at least, one that sounded cool at cocktail parties***.

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Alas, that job was lost to the winds of unemployment and the keen desire to escape the ivory tower of Academia and acquire health insurance. Temping was taken up, and in time, a salaried position followed, which is where I find myself now.

For I am…an Office Manager.

It IS as glamorous as it sounds, I assure you.

I distinctly recall being asked “so, where do you see yourself in 5 years’ time?” during my interview and wish I could recall how I--in an act of desperate bullshit--made “Absolutely NOT still working here” sound like a wonderful, positive and above all, HIREABLE thing.

Six months after that I was asked to write down what my job description was, and—after I stopped laughing long enough to type again—fought the temptation to write “Jack-Of-All” and leave it at that.

Because that’s really what I am: the office Jack-of-All. If I can’t do it, I find the person who can. Your lights won’t turn on? No one flips a breaker with the same je ne sais quoi. You need signage made and it has to be on foam board? Hang me my utility knife, and stand back! Need to find some sort of item for the building and you needed it yesterday and you’re not really sure what it’s called? My Google-Fu is at your command. The phone lines need to be connected? Give me patch cable long enough and a place to stand and it shall be so! The server is acting up? Don’t worry, I’ve got the IT Support’s number MEMORIZED****. Your computer has been possessed by a hellspawned demon bent on consuming everything you’ve been slaving over for the last 6 hours and you haven’t been pressing Ctrl+S?

… CTRL+S, how many TIMES do I have to tell you?! ARGH!

It’s a job. It has its ups and downs, although things have been feeling a bit more on the down side as my former Boss!Lady--who was quite possibly the most wonderful person to drink copious amounts of alcohol with to work with—left for greener pastures. Whenever I start thinking I don’t like it here, I simply recall what it was like to be unemployed, which is a wonderful trick for putting everything in perspective and making me feel loads better.

…True, my Sister-In-Geekery down the hall and I sometimes have to fight over who gets to jump out of the window first when Madame President’s blackberry or computer starts acting up. Dealing with Madame President’s IT woes is just Cruel and Unusual punishment, after all.

Of course, there’s the part of me that has my eye on that 5-Year plan that involves making enough money off of my Not-So-Secret Internet Life so that I can quit this place and focus my attentions of creative and (HOPEFULLY!) lucrative endeavors—

But then again…there is the matter of that Health Insurance…

*She’s Furious, in fact.
**Reports of my ineffable coolness have been greatly exaggerated.
***I don’t think I have ever ACTUALLY been to a cocktail party. I’m a beer dame, myself.
****My own IT know-how boils down to clicking on things until I get fed up and call the IT guy. It has truly served me well on many an occasion.

From: (Anonymous)


This should make you feel better:

From: [identity profile] mymonstercompendium.blogspot.com

HAH! I'm so stealing that drawing and pushing it to a friend or two of mine. who also have effortless sex appeal, but lack the fedora and bullwhip (but one of them has access to both, maybe that counts)

Jacks'of'all are the unsung heros of which ever workplace ^^7 <--salute
Incidently you job discription is hilarious and brilliantly written =D

Though my resume says Electrician, somehow I get saddle with every other odd job. rain water pump quitting on you, who gets stuffed in a harness and strung up to a rig and lowered 15 feet into a well. guess who.
Nut starts tearing stuff out of the wall and someone has to go in a screw plates over the sockets and other stuff that could hurt the poor bastard (what about me)
and the most dreadful thing that can happen on a hospital. The coffe maschine gives up. Nothing will turn nice friendly nurses into the Silent Hill varient faster than lack of coffee. I freaking hate coffee machines >_
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