Something good happened at work yesterday, and while these are uncertain times and on Monday I will likely revert to fearing the pink slip and the move into the parental basement that would inevitably result, today and this weekend I'm going to be happy about it. And I'm making an exception to the rule against blogging about work.
I've been floundering in my current position for a long time now, angry that I wasn't getting promoted while simultaneously knowing that I wasn't very good at the work and it didn't suit my personality or skills. As you might guess, this is not a recipe for career bliss, and I've been known to mumble forlornly at an extended happy hour, "I wish they would let me just sit in my cube and write."
It turns out that nobody thinks that's such a bad idea. So, after about a month of discussions and organization with my uber-supportive supervisor (I'm not being sarcastic; she really is that cool), the agency has created a new position: copywriter. It's for me. I am the copywriter, huzzah. And since the position didn't exist before (copywriters are a given at an ad agency, but the PR side staffers are generally expected to be the jack-of-all trades sort), I pretty much got to write my own job description, which is the sort of ridiculous good fortune that is not likely to reoccur. Ever. Yeah, so that job description is chock full o' things I like to do, and pretty lean on stuff I don't.
I know that the honeymoon period will pass eventually and Monday mornings will feel the same as ever, but I'm feeling good right now to be heading in a direction that I want to be in for the long term. And it's nice to work someplace where after I said, "I'm not good at this," the response wasn't, "Well, get out then." It warms the cockles of my black little heart.