Before crawling into bed Sunday night I shove the last tea towels into a ginormous laundry sack.
Lifting it up I can’t believe how heavy it is.
“There’s no way I’m going to be able to lug this thing on a tram then the five blocks to work without feeling like an illegal immigrant,” I complain to Matthew.
He argues with me until I agree to let him drive me to work in the morning.
I did get an official letter last week assigning me the position of volunteer marketing and fundraising assistant for a welfare services agency here in Melbourne.
The Letter’s timing was perfect as I started feeling unfulfilled at work- even though I’ve been taking on more responsibilities and challenges.
My office administration job started out as an alternative hospitality position- better hours than waiting tables. Due to some- ah-hem- staffing changes, I’ve been receptioning, training, learning and invoicing- steering the ship.
There were three of us left, all brand new- doing the work and covering the hours of a formerally five-person crew.
Last Thursday I found about 20,000 worth of unpaid invoices. That was the day after I asked for a raise.
“Ohhhhh, welllll”…I was told, “ that’s going to be difficult because what you didn’t realize is that you were supposed to be doing this stuff the whole time.”
It’s really okay though. I’m proud of myself for asking since lately I’ve decided to become more assertive. Growing up my Mom was a tough cookie to say the least. I was worried that she came off as cold and bitchy.
What I know now is that she had to be extra tough- for herself in a lonely marriage, for us kids. Everything was a battle because not only was she steering the ship, she was staffing it, and fueling it. Marketing Maven by day, chief, cook and bottle washer at night.
In my meeting where I tried to highlight everything I was doing to deserve the raise- Things dropped into the conversation like pirates off a plank:
“Of course the new receptionist won’t be expected to do as much as you.”
“Don’t worry, as soon as the new manager is trained you’ll have more help.”
“How would you like to do the laundry for an extra 25 bucks a week?”
At the time it seemed like something. But I realize that 25 dollars a week (which MIGHT buy you lunch in Melbourne) isn’t worth the two loads of laundry, water, soap and time on a weekend.
Thanks, but no thanks. It’s not going to work for me. This is the first and last time I will do your enormous load of laundry.
I’ll be holding my head up high from now on, walking to work unburdened.