(Phaysis)

Technically, I am in-between jobs. As of Thursday, I am no longer a contractor, and as of tomorrow, I will be a full employee. And it’s about time.

But not without a thrillride, first.

See, on Tuesday, the manager responsible for my conversion got a call from Human Resources, and the message was to walk me out the door immediately. They got the results of my background check and did not like what they saw. That caught him by surprise, so he called my manager and told him the news. My manager threw the time-out signal. He remembered a conversation he and I (fortuitously) had in passing last week about how there’s another guy with my name in this state who’s apparently a criminal. So they immediately grabbed a conference room and phoned the HR staff again to discuss his conversation with me.

Shortly thereafter, he pulled me into the room for a chat, and HR agreed to have the background-check vendor send me a copy of the results. The determination that day was to keep me on as a contractor until a formal dispute could be launched and everything discovered once and for all.

So, Wednesday, that’s what I did. I reviewed the background check and found four notes regarding the criminal record of a man with my name, my exact birthdate, in Baxter county (where College Station is), who apparently has a major problem with drinking and driving and is currently serving the last of his 7 years in state prison for his third conviction. Coincidentally, he’s been in jail during the entirety of my time as a contractor. So I brought all this up to the HR rep, and he prompted me to call the vendor to begin the dispute process.

I explained to the vendor’s operator that I was not this guy, that I’ve had difficulties before with his name, birthdate, and felony record screwing me over, and that I have never been to Baxter county, so she took down some extra info like my driver license number and my biometric info (weight, height, eye color, hair color) and said she’d forward the info to the researchers for reevaluation. They’d let me know in three business days. After the call, it became a sit-and-wait game.

Luckily, they did their work quickly (because it really should’ve been a no-brainer) because they contacted me the next day to announce the other guy’s record has been expunged from mine, and that there’d be a note attached to my record (should they have to do another check on me in the future) stating what happened. I also got a call from HR telling me the head of security reexamined my case and gave me the green light to conversion, that the company apologizes for any potentially embarrassing (read legally-actionable) inconveniences, and that Monday would be my first day as a fully-badged employee with all the rights, duties, and responsibilities thereof.

And it’s about time.

I kinda feel like celebrating, but with the roller-coaster of this past week, I think I’ll hold off until I get my first paycheck. Just to be on the safe side.

Friday I was presented an offer. Sat down in a meeting room with a member of the Human Resources staff, and he went over the paperwork with me, first presenting me with an offer of employment. The rate of pay is equivalent to what I was making as a contractor, but since the company sponsors most of the benefits (instead of the full amount coming out of my pockets like it does now), my overall net earnings will be more. So it’s like a raise.

I told him I’d take the letter home and think about it over the weekend. Talked in generalizations about it with my coworkers, and loudly they expressed that I should’ve signed it on the spot. “Well, if the pay’s OK, if the position’s OK, if there’s no wiggle room for haggling over pay or benefits, then why the hell haven’t you signed it already!?” So I signed. Beats the hell out of unemployment.

Assuming the rest of my background check passes without a hitch — and I don’t foresee any problems — then my first day as a permanent employee will be July 6th. I’ll have 95% of my benefits covered, which includes health, dental, and vision. Yeah, dental and vision. The company’s not matching 401(k) at this moment, so I probably won’t contribute. But I instantly get ten days of paid sick leave, and I accumulate vacation time, 15 days a year. The vacation time is prorated for the first calendar year of employment, which means I’ll accumulate only 8 days this year, 7 of which I’m required to spend during the holiday closure, so it looks like a proper vacation will have to wait until next summer.

Otherwise, it’s more of the same. Same tasks, same manager, same job. My running joke is, “Hey, congratulations! You’re hired! Now get back to work!” Only difference is that I’m an actual employee now. A fully-recognized human, not a capital expense.

My manager told me just before the weekend that the ball was rolling and that I should update my resume on the chance that I’d have to submit it sometime this week. I’m glad I spent some time Sunday cleaning it up, because I was contacted Tuesday to fill out some paperwork and put in my formal application to be converted to a permanent employee. So yeah, I took my first steps to becoming something other than a contractor; it’s been a long 2+ years.

The downside to this conversion is that I’ll be starting at perhaps the lowest rung in the “career ladder” defined by HR. “Client Compatibility Technologist I” (or something of the sort), meaning I’m at the bottom. Entry level.

I don’t have a college degree. Even if I did, it sure as hell wouldn’t be stellar. I don’t have any special training or five-plus years of commensurate experience. I’ve made a few impressions over the years, even got a Spotlight Award from the Director, but that’s not enough to carve out my place in the department. So I can’t expect higher than entry level. I’ll have to actually earn the respect, and that’s the hardest lesson to learn. It’s not enough to have been there for two years, to show up every day, do my job, and go home. When everybody else keeps commitments, puts in extra effort, and makes a point of going above and beyond, the man who does only what’s necessary is at the end of the line.

Among the other hard lessons I’m learning are these tidbits:

• In a corporate environment, it’s reasonable to expect opportunistic behavior among those who work there; if there’s a chance to take more, do more, be more, and therefore move higher, I gotta take that chance. Think of it as a classroom full of fifth-graders standing around a table, and there’s only two pizzas; the slowest ones don’t eat.
• All that stuff about taking turns, letting others speak first, minding your manners, obeying your superiors, that’s all hideously bad advice, because nobody else follows the rules. Decorum and protocol have their place in society, but it’s in all the little interpersonal micro-transactions that the obedient are stepped upon.
• Altruism is largely absent, reserved for only the “good ol’ boy network”. To be in the network, you have to actually be a good ol’ boy, meaning you have to be someone who has worked to garner that respect.
• I won’t get promoted for being an all-around nice guy; I have to actually work for it. If friendliness was the requirement for promotion, the whole enterprise would be doomed to failure.
• The company is built around the concept of “meritocracy”, where each individual person is responsible for their own career path. Don’t look to someone else to look out for you. You rise or fall by your own actions; do well, and you’ll be rewarded well. The guys in the highest levels clawed their way up there and were rewarded on their individual merit.
• So, it follows that expecting a modicum of respect handed to me without expending a respectable amount of effort on my part is just foolish. I start at level 1.

So the ball is rolling. I mentioned my stress at the sudden speed of everything to my manager, and his advice was to not sweat it; it’s all on autopilot from here on out. The position is open to anybody, but I’m pretty much the most experienced person applying for the job (since I’m already doing it), so it should be a shoo-in. Here’s to hope.

Well, I remain, at least for the near duration, employed. I survived my 24-month anniversary.

Getting to work this morning was an uphill battle, naturally. I didn’t want to get out of bed. Dragged my feet getting out the door. Blanked out on the drive to work, dreading the day’s potential unfoldings. I arrived, walked through the lobby, and approached the locked door to my lab. I swiped my contractor badge at the card reader and cringed, hoping the light would turn green. With a modicum of relief, I was granted access.

According to my manager, he and his manager are working to get an employment position open for me, hopefully before the end of this quarter. The more I talk to them, the more I believe it. At this point, I have no option but to believe and cling to that hope. And since they’re going the extra miles to bring me on board, I’m hoping that I can live up to their expectations. I come from a short line of “oh, don’t trouble yourself over me, I’ll be fine”, so you can kinda see my trepidations.

With all the stress of not knowing if I’m going to finish out another paycheck without it being my final one, I’ve been all amped up and somber in preparation for the worst, with a short list of contingency plans should the worst actually happen. Luckily, it hasn’t happened, but time will tell. HR may have a dirty trick up their sleeve.

I understand, through some information that has been provided to me, that my former company felt some pain for the first few weeks after I left. Before my departure, I made it very clear that I was open and available for advice, consultation, perhaps even onsite setup and training, for whoever remained to do my former job. That offer was not taken up because, and these are the words quoted to me, “we don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing we need his help.”

I’m not one to enjoy another’s pain, let alone gloat about it. But this prideful cockiness gives me great liberty to smile. I like that company; I miss that company and those I worked with. It was a laid-back affair laden with the personalities and drama that could only exist in a small shop environment. And it is because of that environment that I have to take a light heart about it and laugh. My presence made a big footprint on the soil of that company, and my absence left a painful, gaping maw. I have the satisfaction that I, for once, was able to make that effect.

Now. My current job; let’s just say that unless I learn what the hell I’m doing, do a great job, and ascend the ranks, I will not leave that great of an impression on the company. There are 15,000 or so employees, and I am but a contractor trainee in a testing lab. There are certain parties who may seek the satisfaction of knowing that I am going through trouble, stress, turmoil; they may have a glimmer of it, my treat, because my new job is hard. Damn hard. After years of growing dull, issuing motions to my body in gross movements, turning off my mind while I droned out the repetitive work with music, I am having a damnable time of trying to wake up my mind again, turning on my memory, juggling little bits of facts, events, people. You may have your satisfaction.

It’s a drain on me, this trying to keep up. I have filled pages upon pages in my journal about my internal struggles and storms. All the shit I’ve held hidden below the waterline for years is rising to the surface in murky curls of fetid water. And it startles me; smacks my face and laughs as I drop a few balls while trying to do my juggling act, trying to perform. Makes me want to scream, makes me want to run. But the urge to collapse and do nothing takes hold and pulls me back to zero where I do nothing extreme. A zombie. A real, live zombie.

You may have your satisfaction.

This has been a lonely journey, these thirty-five years, these past 4 years, these recent 2 months. Within the withering crop of people I consider friends, there are the usual few who know of my situation, but there are none who are in my closest circle. My weight is my own to bear, and it is my fault. That is my feeling; my fault for shutting them out. I suppose when I am ready I will reach out again; maybe this is my reaching out. Until then, I likely won’t be talking much.

So. To you, the people I most likely know who read my words anonymously, this is my state. Thanks for the concern. And for the satisfaction: you’re welcome.