I’ve got about fifty million things going on right now, so excuse the hit-and-run for today…but here’s the lowdown on things at Builder Mama HQ…
Well, the official offer hasn’t come through – but I did get an e-mail around 5:30 today from the VP that I interviewed with, giving me a very sketchy outline of what will be in the offer:
Promotion to project engineer (which is what I’ve been jonesing for over the past three years)
$5K more than I make now
$250/month car allowance (which makes me suspicious of the amount of travel they’re going to expect)
Company gas credit card (raising suspicion level more)
Yearly bonuses (they increase by years of service so I have no clue what I’d get this year)
I have to admit, the offer isn’t quite good enough for me to take the job…I don’t think. I’m going to wait and get the official offer and then do my list of pros and cons and try to decide.
This is all so bittersweet. Why is it that a company, based on two meetings and a piece of paper, will give me the opportunity to be a project engineer – while the company I’ve worked for for ten years can’t seem to do that? It really stings. But there are so many other factors too…like the great flexibility that I have at my current company. I don’t think I can match that anywhere.
I was secretly hoping I could have all this shit wrapped up before I leave for Boston, but there’s no way that will be happening now. If I do decide to take the job and announce it before I leave for my trip, I don’t want to come back on Monday to a box full of my crap out in the parking lot. I’d like to think that wouldn’t happen, but ya never know.
Little white lies
Tonight Joey picked up Monkey Man so I could go do some very important errands after work (buying cute shoes and makeup and undies so that I can continue to function like a normal human being) and they went to dinner at the local Mexican place. Normally MM will get the chicken nuggets on the children’s menu, but for some odd reason tonight he wanted a cheese quesadilla. He refused to eat most of it so Joey had it boxed up to bring home, and when they got home MM announced that he was too tired to eat anymore. And then, as luck would have it, he said he was still hungry and wanted Oreos.
Well, Joey was understandably upset. Monkey Man finally admitted that he lied and said he lied “because I wanted to.” So we ended up having a not very nice little talk about lying and telling the truth, punctuated by anguished sobs and ending with the punishment of no dessert until he learns to eat better dinners. Maybe a little harsh, but I am pretty sick of the nightly battle over eating only to have him want dessert. And I’m hoping this will be a good lesson about the importance of being truthful.
So we came back downstairs after bath time and he ate a cheese stick while sniffling pitifully. I can’t believe the kid isn’t begging for an Oreo, but he’s too busy paying attention to his other addiction, the Power Rangers. *Sigh*
One step away from granny panties
My newest discovery in all things comfy…UnderArmour underwear. Yes, they’re not exactly the most attractive things on the planet, but darn do they feel good. I stocked up tonight in preparation for the summer.
Next thing you know, I’ll be wearing granny panties up to my armpits. How hot is that?
For the bard in all of us
One of my friends at work and I got into a debate over a Shakespearean quote today…kind of strange to be debating the use of The Bard in an e-mail about construction coordination issues, but hey – we’re a progressive kind of place. As it turns out, my friend knows quite a bit of poetry and literature from college and was reciting all kinds of stuff that I’d forgotten about 10 minutes after receiving my English degree. And I have to admit, I love a man who can recite poetry, so I was getting a wee bit hot…ahem…excuse me while I close my office door...
So in our quest to prove the other person wrong, we searched the internet and I stumbled along this little gem of a website that is now on my Favorites list – the Shakespearean Insult Generator.
Just in case you want to call someone a craven hedge-born scut in your next e-mail, you might want to bookmark this one. Seriously.