It only took two days to turn things around, and I didn’t have to move a muscle. I might have hit rock bottom on Tuesday when I was forced to drop the bomb. I promised to explain things behind all that drama, and now might be the right time.
For the first time in my four years of working as a Production Editor, the management questioned my work schedule. This would have made sense if we observed a fixed schedule since Day 1, but we don’t. Our client is based in the UK, and the 7-hour time difference does not require us to go on shifting schedule. In fact, we are entitled to a 3-hour flexible work schedule depending on our preference. Apparently, the new management seems to have developed an inkling on this regard, so instead on focusing on more scale-up-related things, they look into people’s work schedule just for the heck of it.
I go to work anytime between 5:00 and 6:00AM everyday. It’s a good thing that I don’t have issues waking up early in the morning because I’ve gotten used to it. The thing I like the most about reporting to work at an ungodly hour is the peacefulness it brings. I don’t know if anyone else will agree with me, but I find myself most productive during this time. No distractions, no nonsense. Another reason for coming to work this early is the fact that I’m in the same company as my brother’s. His schedule, however, was the complete opposite of mine. He has no choice but to report to work on a graveyard shift, and that it’s mandatory to render at least three hours of overtime daily. This is why I prefer an early morning work shift. It allows my brother to take the car when going to and from work. If anything, his consolation is convenience.
The management has been monitoring work schedule of other people in production which is understandable, but I hoped their concern were for the betterment of the company, and not for personal reasons. I would have understood the need to dig into my work schedule preference if my job is being compromised. I’m sorry to disappoint them, but it is not. My diligence towards my job has developed good rapport with both my internal and external contacts which I earned over the years. Some things do not add up, so I’ve made a decision to quit. I didn’t say it as a matter-of-factly, but I know that my frustration was a clear indication that I have sent my message across. They have been made aware of forthcoming resignation several months prior to our wedding, hence it shouldn’t come off as a surprise.
Until these came in the mail two days later.
My cousin from Canada and I have long since talked, and when I texted him that I’m quitting from my job soon, he decided to call me via FaceTime. It was a good two-hour conversation, mostly catching up on each other’s lives. Of course, the processing of my petition papers is among the many highlights of our bull session. Several minutes after hanging up with him, emails (not one, but two) from the USCIS popped in my inbox, and I could hardly believe my eyes. In all honesty, I thought my cousin was making a terrible prank on me because we were just talking about it. I failed at taking it all in. I might have done cartwheels and somersaults in my head! I frantically called Roan, but he wasn’t answering, so instead I sent him a portion of the text in the email to give him the heads-up. Then I texted my cousin again to say the same thing, and he was as dumbfounded as I was.
I could not be any more grateful for this pleasant surprise. Good things, indeed, come to those who wait—when you least expect it. The first part of our waiting game took 115 days to end. We’re a step closer; I guess all our future plans are in order.
Can we throw some confetti around here?