I have come to the conclusion that working for someone else is like babysitting someone else's kids. You may like the parents, you may like the kids, but in the end, do you really care if the kids go buck wild and start hanging from the chandelier naked? As long as the parents don't see it; or if they do see it, it's because they're home, and the kids are no longer your responsibility. Not that you don't try to avoid this kind of behavior, of course; you try very hard- in your paid hours - to instill in them discipline and good manners. You try to run a tight ship as long as you're in charge, because otherwise, they will eat you alive.
I worked for two years as a nanny, and it may have been both the best and worst thing I ever did. On the one hand, it about killed my desire to ever bear offspring. On the other hand, I learned many of the joyous, disgusting, crazy and scary aspects of childcare. (Thus: killing my desire to bear offspring.) The greatest advantage to the work was also the greatest drawback: these were not my children. People used to say, when seeing my tongue dragging the floor after only five hours with one of those boys, "it's different when they're your own." Of course it's different! You can't give them back! Also: you love them, more than you can love any living person.
But this post isn't about kids. It's about working for the man. Or the woman, or whatever the case may be. Do you really and truly care about the fate of an organization that is not lawfully your own? Is it not hard to walk away from it when you have had no control of its direction to begin with? Do I sound like Carrie from Sex and the City clicking away on my laptop with these inane questions?
Fine. All I'm saying is, four months at a job is too soon to be filleting a fish at my desk a la Office Space. Or is it?? I'm tired of being a glorified servant. It may be time to go to work for myself.
