Well, today was day two of my new job at Arts-Friendly And Yet Still Somehow Not Quite As Noble As I Expected Non-Profit. I took more of a hands-on role today, what with the software training (I mean, honestly, does anyone really know how to use a Mac?), the report-filling-out, and the database-making. Now that I have a better idea of what the job truly entails, the jury has returned from deliberation. The verdict? The jury finds this job boring as shit.
I mean, okay; so Arts-Friendly Non-Profit does fundraising for some very cool, and well-renowned organizations that make a lot of extremely important contributions to the global community, and that�s great. I�m very proud to be a part of something as socially conscious as that! But here�s the crux of the problem -- they do their fundraising through that most nefarious of all fundraising techniques: telemarketing.
Yes, I am officially part of the most loathed section of American society! I am the very dregs of humanity! Well, I mean, I guess the people that actually call and interrupt you during dinner to pester you about donating to the museum you�ve only visited twice (because you have no culture, and shame on you for that!) are the actual dregs of humanity. But I�m the guy that enables that! It turns out that I signed on to become an Account Executive here at Arts-Friendly (But Not Dinner-Friendly) Non-Profit.
And okay, so I know that it�s through organizations like Quit Talking To Your Wife And Kids And Give Me Your Credit Card Number Non-Profit that enable foundations like the Guggenheim to keep up their noble efforts (not that the Guggenheim is one of our clients, that�s just a �for instance�), but this job enticed me because I wanted to be involved in the arts. Not because I wanted to create paperwork for people involved in the arts.
I mean, I guess the job isn�t horrible�like, there�s the money thing, which is really very nice. And there�s the proximity factor, which is also very nice. And of course there�s the bathroom issue, which is so much nicer than I think anybody out there actually realizes, and there�s an actual kitchen with an actual fridge and running water, and cheap vending machines stocked with pop, chips, candy bars, and sandwiches, I�ve got my own office, and I�m allowed to wear jeans to work -- jeans! But.
I don�t think I want to be this�responsible. I mean, I don�t mind the stuff we do in the morning, before all the callers come in. Like, we send out reports and shit and update various and sundry databases, which is all cool. But after lunch, it�s all meetings and monitoring, and business crap. Like, I�m so sick of staff meetings! We had to have a teleconference today with the people from our east coast office, and they just kept prattling on and on, like, �And we�ll move her from that campaign and put him on this campaign, and these numbers are up and those numbers are down, and blah blah blah, revenue this, statistics that, talky talk talk talk.� And I�m sitting in the corner, doodling on my legal pad and scribbling notes in the margin like, �Kill me now� and �Someone please make the pain stop.�
I�m really not looking forward to being the point man for accounts like The Extremely Testy Ballet Troupe, or getting daily phone calls from Shirley at Random Arts Organization #34, whom I�ve barely had any contact with at all but already hate because of her piss-poor attitude. So there�s all that, plus the fact that my hours are no longer as flexible as they have been in the past. Far be it from me to say anything good about Stupid Titanic Cruises, but at least I could leave early when I wanted to, because I never did anything of import.
Anyway, it�s only been two days. Who knows? Maybe as Susie phases out and I phase in, things will start to feel a little better. All I know for sure is that once that office is mine? Big Boss Lady won�t be able to get me off email with a blasting cap.
