Biting the Hand, Part One

Friday was my first day at CompuTrap*, the new company of my employ (yes, I got a job, after two months of looking.) It is helmed by Doug Muñoz*, a Type-A overworked middle-aged golf enthusiast who seems very chill as a boss excepting his ease in letting me know his business philosophy up front: I am to be his right-hand man, as it were, reporting everything I hear from the rank-and-file and encouraging a workplace culture of secrecy around issues such as compensation and employment status. He says our salaries are no one's business, and as the bookkeeper-slash-office wonk (he is generously calling me the Office Manager) I will be privy to all that top-secret information, so I need to keep a lid on it (which I will), and let him know of any rumblings (which, if I can help it, I won't.) It sets the teeth of my inner union agitator on edge. I don't think this is a big feature of the job; mainly, Doug hired me to do the accounts payable, stay on top of billing and collecting payments from clients, and to take all the busy work off his desk so he can focus on finding new clients and growing the business. I'm perfectly willing to do this, especially since it's in a casual environment, a fifteen minute bike ride from my apartment, and he's giving me the hours and pay I need to eek out a living in the next year while I continue working at the clinic.

As Morrissey once said, "I was looking for a job and then I found a job, and heaven knows I'm miserable now." I get no end of pleasure in this quote. I'm so grateful to be learning to do the therapy work that allows me to find so much personal growth and meaning, and gives me a future to look forward to beyond the crunching of numbers. But, goddamnit, I was really ready to kiss bookkeeping good bye. If nothing else, I feel this year is the home-stretch.

________________________
*Name of company changed so's I don't get fired.
*Name of boss changed so's I don't get sued.