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.