This is only the latest in a long series of screwing me over. I work in a nice, cushy office, where I work with lovely people and wear heels to work most days. I thought I'd love it compared to my last job, where I occasionally had customers who made my severe allergy to Febreeze totally worth it. But it was much better there in several ways.
I was an employee.
Here, I am a contract worker. Sweet, yeah, no taxes taken out of my check. But my check takes a three days to clear at my bank. And I don't get my CPP (Canada's version of Social Security) taken out of my paycheck. Which means that, at the end of the year, I'm going to owe the government about three grand (with taxes). With my new hours, I'm not even going to be making ten - all of which goes to minor things like rent and food.
I got paid a fair wage.
Yeah, it wasn't all that high, but it was fair for what I was doing. Payscale.com, though, is a total bitch, because now I know that, for my experience in my exact position, I'm getting more than a dollar under the industry minimum. That's a happy realization, I'll tell you. So is knowing from everyone else in my office that I'm not likely to see a raise for another year.
My boss wasn't a sociopath.
We sell insurance, among other things. Life insurance and all that good crap. So, we get a custy come in wanting to look at life insurance. Boss is worried, like a good concerned citizen, when she gets the vibe that the custy wants to insure herself before she offs herself. Then, the next day, we get confirmation - the office manager, who rides reception on the days I'm not in, gets this weird call from a custy who asks if there's an insurance payout in case of suicide. Office manager explains that there is, but not if it happens in the first two years after getting the insurance. Everyone compares notes later that day, and figures out it's the same custy. Boss no longer wants to sell her insurance. Not out of wanting to discourage her from offing herself, but so that we wouldn't be charged if the policy was voided.
Luckily, the convenience store down the street has openings. Graveyard shifts, documented risk of knifing by hobo, and health care benefits.
I applied yesterday.