When I talk about my job to people, they always raise their eyebrows when I tell them that I have worked there for nine years now. I don't know if they feel bad for me, for never having the balls to leave such a dead-end job, or are impressed at my ability to stick with something for that and not burn out. Of course, the lack of burn-out may be attributed to the first five years of it being only a nine-month position, so I got another job for those summers. And now that I work summers, it is a much different job anyway. Plus, throw in Christmas and Spring Break and there are enough breaks to help keep things fresh. The job has changed a lot, anyway, so it barely resembles the one I took nine years ago.
But since it would take too long to explain all that to someone I'm just having a casual conversation with, I usually say something like, "I enjoy the people I work with and I don't have to take my work home, so I'm free to do other stuff." This is important, even though most of the "other stuff" consists of drinking and sleeping. Still, not taking my work home is a huge deal for me, separating me from all the faculty that I work with, who constantly complain about the papers they have to grade. Hey, no one made you become a teacher. You have all summer to whine about it on the beach.
However, since I am the only one in my building who does my job, I am often called upon to go above and beyond the call of duty, and often I do, if I feel it is for the greater good or I am getting paid. Occasionally, I do not. Like last Friday.
While on my way to the movies sometime after 6:00 p.m., I received a call from a gentleman who wanted to put me on the phone with the B & G staff to tell them that it was okay to let this gentleman into my sound booth. I haggled with him for a few minutes while I pondered his worthiness. First of all, you should know that I had dealt with his group the night before, when I happened to be working (for money) and told them to contact me during the day on Friday if they wanted to use the room over the weekend. they never did, so phooey on them. I did tell him to put the B & G guy on the line so I could talk with them about it. then I waited a minute or so. Finally, after much silence, I said, "Hello?"
"Oh, you want me to get him now?" the gentleman asked, his worthiness slipping rapidly.
After another couple minutes of listening to him wandering around the building, he said he would call me right back. Since I was going to the movies (in an hour, but still...), I proceeded to shut my phone off and never spoke to the guy again. I did however listen to his 4 voice mails.
Saturday night was much the same, except this time I did not pick up, until about the 7th call from this man, when I screamed into the phone for him to leave me alone, that this was my personal number and I could not help him. I then hung right up (I do miss old phones that you could slam down.) Like some jilted lover, he called one more time, but I did not answer.
That's what happens when you take your work home. I have no idea how he even got my personal cell number, or what made him think that I could/would help him out of pure kindness. This is also the danger of being too kind and too good at what you do, and I suppose notable enough that people know to call you in certain situations. I may have overreacted slightly, but that's how I get when my job comes home. It's the only rule I have. I'll do just about anything while I'm at work, but when I go home, I want to do what I want. When I get calls when I'm not on the job, that's when Hulk get mad.
Let this be a lesson to everyone. You want to work somewhere for a long time, leave it there. It works for me.