Paws Off, This Ain't Your Job, Obama
After two months of "working" from home (as many of you know, I quit my job in March), I'm somewhat sad to say I've made the decision to go back to work. See, I need to get out of San Francisco and quick (I know a sinking ship when I see one) and can no longer handle the $3.25 gas, ridiculous rent, shitty weather, and hideous drivers. Not to mention car insurance, the SFMTA organized crime ring that tickets my car every two hours for parking too long in my own neighborhood, the crackheads, the human excrement that greets me on the sidewalk when I head to school to pick up my kid... you get the point. In August, I'll be celebrating my 11th year here and frankly, I'm done. Real estate is not normalizing any time soon and likely never will so it's time to pull up the stakes and go find a new home, kind of a scary thought since I've spent my entire adult life here in Northern California unless you count the two months I lived in Reno and four months I spent in Salt Lake City at 18. Did you know you can't buy cigarettes in Utah until age 19? Yeah, I didn't either. Burn.
Anyway, because writing is not terribly lucrative (pending book deal aside) but moving requires a good chunk of cash, I asked my ex-boss to take me back so I could slave away for the man for a few months and sock away the cash to pack up a truck and get the heck out of here. He did, pretty much instantly, and it goes without saying that we're both fortunate that the old business is recession-proof and that I'm still indispensable as an employee.
But I want to make one thing painfully clear: THIS IS NOT YOUR JOB, OBAMA, SO DON'T YOU DARE CLAIM IT.
Stimulus money didn't pay for my ex-boss to hire me back. Perhaps small business initiatives might ease the pain of running a business during such an unsure time but it should be known that THIS job was created very early on in the company's history (let's say 2004 or so) and I merely filled the slot in 2007. If anything, Greenspan gets credit for this one as it was his easy money that fueled the bubble that funded the college degrees that got the jobs that paid for the professional training that I provided at my old gig.
So there. Don't add this one in to the magic BLS numbers and don't claim another one for the Stimulus, it's dirty Greenspan money and my boss's own hard work that gets credit for this. Bitches.
Oh, and I'm still trying to decide where I'll end up next so if dear reader has any suggestions, do share. And don't you dare say LA.