The last week has been exhasting.
It began with a phone call.
"Hello, it's Eileen from PSNH, and we would like to offer you a position. Blah, Blah, Blah, 16 dollars an hour, Blah, Blah."
"16 dollars and 10 cents (pause) blah, blah, blah."
I was sweating bullets, dang near hyperventilation. They had told me it would be around 13 an hour start... but 16 was out of this world.
The matter at hand was that I had fallen head over heels for my month-old job at Southern New Hampshire Services. My job is to get people the help they need, without the State breathing over my shoulder or the messiness of being an official Case Worker. It's honest work, keeps me busy in a good way, and I like my co-workers, LOVE my boss... Fuel Assistance season (December through April) may drive me batty, but I know I can handle it.
The only issue is the money. I'm not going to starve on it, but I'm not going to live on it. I can't buy the things I want without careful planning, or pay all the bills I'd like to all the time.
But if this were the only thing stressing me out, I wouldn't have struggled with bouts of insomnia and nightmares this past week.
PSNH gave me the "offer" but certainly not on a silver platter. They're running a credit check, which brings on acid reflux every time I think about it. My credit isn't the bottom of the barrel because I haven't created credit card debt or car repos or anything... but I have made a lot of mistakes and pulled in some hospital bills. Overall, I would give myself a C-/D.
Not to mention the fact that my credit is irrelevent to my spacific job and Public Service should warn hopefuls that they do this. Don't make me repeat what her explaination was, because it makes me want to punch babies.
To be continued....