|Am I Crazy?
||[Sep. 3rd, 2008|10:08 pm]
Alright, first a quick recap to refresh those of you that do know me, and fill in those of you that don't: I've been married for almost 6 years, and for most of the time, I'd say it's been really great. In fact, most of the time, I'd say it was the best thing I've ever done. We met on the net, and she agreed to move here after we got married. There are the normal bumps and brusies that every couple has, but there's one (well, two, but I'm not gonna talk about the second one here. Not yet, anyway) big thing that has been coming up over and over and over.
And I'm sure you can guess what that top thing we fight over constantly is: She wants to move back closer to her family, specifically her sister. This is a position that I strenulously rejected for a number of years: First, because her sister's first husband was a consumate ass, and I simply refused to put myself into a position where I would be forced to deal with him on a more than once-a-year basis.
My resolve was weakened somewhat when my niece was born; she's an amazing little girl, and I fell for her hard. But I still wasn't about to deal with her father on a regular basis, especially given
Reason two: They lived in a podunk little town in the middle of f'ing nowhere. Not quite as bad as her hometown, but definitley not a place I could ever see me spending a chunk of my life in. I'm not asking to live in someplace like New York City (as anyone who knows me can tell you, I hate NYC with a passion) but I'd like to have a little urban in my metropolis, and not have to travel for half an hour to find a movie-theater that doesn't look (and smell) like a converted gymnasium. Not to mention a DECENT mall.
Well, over the past few years, a lot of holes have been knocked in that particular wall: My sister-in-law realized what an ass she'd married, divorced him, and got involved with (and is now engaged to) a really great (albeit slightly over-intense) guy who treats her and my niece just as good as they deserve. And just this past year, they actually moved to a real, honest to goodness city! With real movie theaters and shops and the whole nine yards.
And as things would have it, this corresponded with a growing sense of dissastisfaction in my current employment. While I started as a secretary, due to the fact that I work 12 -8, and the other secretaries grabbing all the secretarial type stuff before I get in (or simply farting around on the 'Net) I have essentially become a glorified file clerk; and I hate filing - it ranks only slightly above data entry on my 'When they said cubicle hell, I didn't realize they were being literal' lists of tasks I despise. And please don't advise me to tell my boss; I gurantee that that would only result in losing Internet acess from work, and some days the peeks I can sneak at Meg's journal and Daily Kos are all that keeps me sane.
My boss' attitude has always annoyed me, but at first I chalked that up to her age, as one of the older women I work with behaves the exact same way. They both seem to have the attitude of "Well, you gave me a job and I'm so grateful just to have a job that I'll let you stomp all over me in anyway you like." Needless to say, this doesn't work for me; never has, never will. And until about a year ago I was content to let that be their attitude and agree to disagree as it were.
Now, I'm not entirely sure what happened a year ago, but my boss really started adopting the flip side of that attitude. She became much more :"Well, I gave YOU a job so you better shut up and let me cover my ass by stomping all over you." And that just grew gradually more and more irritating, but still not really enough to galvanize me to action.
Until about a month ago. Long story short: I started feeling ill on a Thursday morning about 40 minutes before I had to be at work; rather than call in that close to shift time, I tried to go in anyway. 10 minutes into the drive there, I knew I'd made a serious mistake, and was pretty much going to have to get there and then turn around and go home. I get there, and rather than scare the kids in our waiting room (cause I'm loud and they'd certainly be able to hear me retching) I opt to try and make it to the staff bathroom. I fail, and lose my breakfast in the garbage can in the front office (which is soundproofed from the waiting room so no little kids were scarred).
(Next day I wind up puking again, and eventually going to the ER for being unable to stop puking, but not really relevant to the story).
The next week, my boss calls me into her office and has the NERVE to give me a verbal reprimand for being <i>ill</i>. Honestly, the fact that it was only a verbal and not a written one is the only thing that stopped me from quitting right then and there.
So you'd think it'd be a no brainer, y/y? Go home, tell the wife she's gotten her dearest wish and start packing boxes.
Not so fast. My job has a nice benefits package: paid lunch hours, 3 weeks vacation, 9 sick days, 10 holidays, 2 personal days. The insurance sucks, but at least I have insurance that I don't have to shell out for, a lot of people don't even get to say that. The salary is, well, acceptible, if not great, and I'm pretty much guaranteed a cost of living (or at least what the federal government considers the cost of living) raise every year, which again, a lot of people don't get.
My wife has a shit job, but she's never shown any motivation to get out of it in the 5.5 years she's been working there (she says no, but I still maintain it was her way of punishing me for not being willing to move back closer to her family, but that's water under the bridge.); at least until the last supervisor she liked got transferred to another store around the same time the rest of this mess went down.
And both of us have jobs that we can do with our eyes closed, meaning we would pretty much have to try to deliberately screw up in order to lose them. Given how bad the economy is, and how bad I suspect its going to get before it gets better, that seems to me to be very important.
So I go home, and cautiously raise the subject that I might be willing to finally move. I throw in what, to me, is a highly necessary qualifier- we need jobs. More to the point, we need jobs that are as good as or better than the ones we currently have. Otherwise, what's the point? I mean, I'm no fan of the standard of living we maintain now- we barely scrape by, and only do that because we do stupid shit like forego medical care and retirement planning (And you can just forget about having a kid or saving for a house!). And hell, her sister's fiancee said last time we visited that it would be easy-peasy for us to be pulling down $50k a year out there as a couple, which was a big bump from where we are now and thus a big factor in the decision.
But, apparently she stopped listening after hearing I might be willing to move. She's ready to jump on the first job that comes along; hell, she'd sweep floors for 20 cents an hour if it meant she could live near her family. And any time I try to inject a note of fiscal sanity or responsibility back into the discussion I just get brushed off with "Well, if you were close to your family while you were growing up, you'd understand." And while I admit that I was (and indeed am) not particularly close to my blood family;in many ways I consider all y'all far more my family than anyone I am related to; I still find that response, dismissive, patronizing, and irritating as fuck.
Honestly, at this point I am ready to snap my fingers and call the whole thing off; the only thing that stops me is that it might be the straw that broke the camel's back and she would leave me.
So I toss the question to you, flist: who's crazy? Me, for wanting to use this move to better our lives, even if it means we wait for a while to move. Or her, for wanting to be with her family right away, regardless of the financial and consequently emotional costs?