Decisions

I cried at work yesterday.  Someone I truly love and respect went off on a rant at me, and although it was not really my fault, it sort of was and I just started to cry.  I'd like to be able to say that I love my job, but I no longer do.  I love certain aspects of it, but this week I have been waking up feeling like Martin Sheen at the beginning of Apocalypse Now.  "Tuesday. it's only Tuesday"  It was a long week and I am feeling overwhelmed.  Here in a nutshell is what my job entails.

 I am the facilities manager for 72 aging libraries.  This is a never ending battle to keep the facilities in a condition where we can keep the doors open.  I have three people I report to who give me assignments. This is on top of my already frantic pace of trying to handle building repair requests and emergency calls. I monitor the condition of the burglary alarms. I handle problems with custodial.  I have been working with GSD on a variety of repair projects.  This week we closed two branches due to emergency maintenance issues.  I don't mean to complain but our department has always been woefully understaffed. The police department, for instance, at one time had  five people taking care of their buildings and they have a lot less of them. I've been frantically jumping all week- working a little late each day to complete something so it won't be waiting to pounce on me in the morning.   I need to step back an evaluate what I am doing.  Chris says the job is killing me.  He may be a wee bit dramatic but I see his point.  Part of my problem is that by my nature, I care about things and people to a degree I should not.  I have always brought love to whatever I do.  Work doesn't give love back, does it? I love my library colleagues; my peeps, as one of my co workers calls them.   I WANT to make life better for them by doing what I do.  Yesterday's rant made me feel as if I had failed them somehow.

I put in for a transfer.

A friend who retired told me the job she was leaving would be perfect for me and I talked to the person in the department who explained the job. He tried to tell me it was a high stress job, but I don't know if it really is.  He was stressing deadlines and media. I don't know if I really want to take on a new assignment at this point in my life.  Realistically I have two to three years left, unless I win the lottery or the Publishers Clearinghouse sweepstakes in which case ALL bets are off.  I will take the interview if it is offered and see where it leads. I will trust my instincts, open my senses, and decide.  I had always envisioned finishing my career at the Library, now I am not so sure.  Over the next few days, I will meditate on this, pray on this and try to get an answer for myself.  People will give me advice which I will take into account, but in the end, the person who makes the decision for me is ME. I have to trust that ultimately I know what is best for me.  I'm the one who has to live the decision 24/7.  At this point, I just don't know and won't until if and when I interview.   I haven't interviewed in twenty-nine years. That ought to be interesting. I was never very good at it.   I have changed in that time since my last interview.  I am much better at speaking my mind in pressure situations than I once was.

I need to figure out where I want to be and how I am going to get there. The path seems to have forked and I don't know which one to take.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, 

And sorry I could not travel both 

And be one traveler, long I stood 

And looked down one as far as I could 

To where it bent in the undergrowth; 

Then took the other, as just as fair, 

And having perhaps the better claim, 

Because it was grassy and wanted wear; 

Though as for that the passing there 

Had worn them really about the same, 

And both that morning equally lay 

In leaves no step had trodden black. 

Oh, I kept the first for another day! 

Yet knowing how way leads on to way, 

I doubted if I should ever come back. 

I shall be telling this with a sigh 

Somewhere ages and ages hence: 

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— 

I took the one less traveled by, 

And that has made all the difference.

Maybe Frost has a point.  I am wondering which road to take.  I need to choose the one that is right for me.  I am still struggling to figure that out.  I may be putting the cart before the horse and they won't want to interview me.  Time will tell.