Affirmation is nice

I don’t know about you, but I often have fears that I’m not doing my job well enough, that I’m not competent in any way at anything, that I lack some critical function that enables success (this despite my recently diagnosed “fear of success”—but that’s another story). No matter how good or effective you think you are, if no one ever acknowledges it, it erodes away your self-confidence.

Some of you remember when I worked at the Daily Iowegian. I started there working part-time as the writer for the weekend children’s page. Then not long after I got there, the typesetter quit, so they asked me to take her full-time job on top of the children’s page. They also decided that I should be a reporter, photographer, in charge of the legals, business, and farm pages, and, oh, yes, the proofreader. At the same time. So I ended up with two and a half full-time jobs – for about $8.50 an hour. *shrug* It was decent money for the area.

The problem was the… well, we’ll call it “lack of morale” at the paper. It was an incredibly messed up environment in ways I can’t (or rather, don’t feel like) describe. Suffice to say I have never before or since had a job that I literally every day wanted to slam my fist on my desk and scream, “I quit!” and just walk out. Possibly after chucking something heavy at my editor’s head.

So, not a fun place. And while I KNEW I was doing the work of at least two people, and doing it well, I never got any kind of feedback to that effect while I was there. It was all very tiring.

A year or so back, one of my former co-workers there found me online. She’d found me once or twice before and every time she wants to know when I’m moving back to Centerville. (Never ever ever, please.) That time, she regaled me with tales of the people they’d hired to replace me. It seems none of them had lasted very long. According to Patsy, some could write all right but not type, most could type but not write, and none of them could do both “as well as you could.” That was incredibly nice to hear.

Yesterday, she found me again and, once again, asked if I wanted to move back. Then she said she was finally quitting. Apparently she doesn't like the new editor—which, if you knew the past editors, you’d know would take a ridiculous level of doing. (“I’d take [a past editor’s] temper tantrums any day over this guy,” she said. And she means tantrums—throwing things, getting into fights with people who’d come in.) After much discussion about the situation we had the following exchange that prompted this over-lengthy entry:

Me:
This isn't going to happen, but do you think if I came back and talked to Becky (ed. note: the publisher of the paper) that she'd give ME the editor job? :)
patsy says:
Yes. We have said often that you were the best one we'd had in the newsroom. You always did your job - and had time left over to look at shoes and spiders.

I was the best one in the newsroom?! In the 16 years that Patsy’s been there? That sentiment alone is mind-boggling to me, much less the fact that they still bring me up. I haven’t worked there since February 2005.

I don’t want the editor’s job. I really, really don’t. But the fact that I could have it for the asking(and if Patsy says I could, I could)…that’s a pretty good feeling.