Well, phooey

It is with mixed emotions that I type this. I was told this morning that it is clear I have been unhappy doing what I've been doing for employment for the last eleven months, and that because I've been unhappy, my employer fears I have one foot in the door and one foot out. Rather than worry that I'll walk out at any time, they decided that it's time for me to find something else to do for income. I now also have more time to look for a more suitable position.

To be frank about it, aside from the loss of income in this economy, my biggest regret is that they beat me to the punch. I am, and have been, certain that being a property manager in an apartment building is far from the best use of my talents and interests. It's true: I don't like being a property manager. I'm not interested in being a social worker for fifty or sixty of society's misfits, such as are the tenants attracted to this building. I don't like being a bill collector. The paperwork is stultifying.

I had something like two weeks' worth of paid time off accrued, and I get that (of course, I'll probably be taxed at a higher rate since it's coming to me with my next paycheck). I am surprised that I got forty-eight hours' notice of my impending termination--that is out of character. I can't believe the boss would expect a whole lot of productivity today or tomorrow.

I'm sure I'll have more thoughts to put down as the day goes on.