I am working on my third year here at the credit union. I've been here for most of my marriage, and for almost the entire time we have been at this apartment. Not long right? Barely time to get to get used to my husband, and just long enough to know where everything goes in the house.
But what of the job? Some would say that I am just getting started! 3 years? That's nothing. Others would gawk at how I could possibly stay in one place that long. I? Am somewhere in the middle. I feel very comfortable at my job. I know how most things work. And with minimal questions I can solve most problems. I am very fast and accurate at counting cash, I can usually tell what member wants to do before they finish telling me, I know the quirks of all my coworkers, I know how to work the boss, I am relied upon for the majority of the even semi-creative stuff at the branch, people ask me my opinion for things involving the branch, I can even put some faces to the names of the higher-ups I talk to over messenger and telephone. I have it made!
I'm not happy.
Most days I am frustrated by 9:30 and ready to hit someone by 10:00. The level of frustration may rise and fall, but its almost always there. Nagging me to do something different. And I hate it. This was supposed to be the job that kept me. Granted, being at a bank was not what I wanted to do with my life, but it was supposed to be where I could be til we figured out what we were doing. Or until I could get something that fit my personality better. But I was not supposed to get sick of it in less than 3 years.
I was feeling pretty bad about this, especially considering how many people out there don't have jobs, and the fact that I was not working at McDonald's. Then I talked to my mom about it. She told me that my dad had gone through the same thing his whole life. Dad confirmed this some days later. He started with high school and went through working at McDonald's (ironically), to the Navy, to 3 different "real" jobs (none lasting more than 3 years), and finally landing with the community college. He thought that would be his life-long job (ended up being around 11 years). It was what he had gone to school for and he was looking forward to influencing the next generation (guess 3 kids wasn't good enough :) ). Then after 11 years, the college screwed him over. Luckily he had been working toward another dream in the form of a home business and it was big enough to fall back on full-time. But this is not about my dad. Well, not really. The point is, I realized that I am not alone. I am not the only one that gets itchy for a change after a short period of time. Chalk it up to heredity.
I don't know what I will do about this itchy feeling. I am certainly not leaving before I find something else. But at the same time, I feel bad leaving a perfectly good job just because its not "perfect". After all, what is? I will just have to settle until I can start my own stained glass shop. Or move to St. George and work in my Aunt Julie's stained glass shop. Got a position for me Aunt Julie?