I hate my job

Absolutely, positively, hate it. I hate it so much that I can't even describe to you how much I hate it. I've been here since June 28, 2004 and the number of days that I've actually looked forward to going to work in the last 10 months would altogether add up to less than four weeks. I hate my job because I'm always someone else's bitch. I don't get to make any decisions about what I work on or what sort of analysis I do; I just have to smile and nod when anyone comes to me asking for data. I hate my job because I can't produce any useful work on my own - everything I do requires files, data, information, documents, or permission from someone else. Even if I didn't have to ask someone else for some sort of input, I don't really know how to use the analysis tools because there are so many quirks, fudge factors, and input files that have to be formatted just so, so I always have to go around bugging people about how to use programs. I hate my job because I work with people who have been here for longer than I've been alive and don't seem to understand that I haven't already learned everything there is to know here in the 10 months that I've worked here. I hate my job because I volunteer to take on new things under the assumption that someone else will take over one of my current projects to make time for the new stuff, but apparently that's a stupid assumption, because now I'm just working 10 hours a day instead. And honestly, I have no problem coming into work at 8am and leaving at 6pm, assuming that I were interested and excited about the stuff that I'm working on. I hate my job because I don't get to choose what I work on - it's just dumped in my lap and I've got all these responsibilities and then it's too late to say no. No one ever asks if it's something that I would be interested in working on or learning more about. And if you're going to tell me that I'm still "getting used to everything" and that I need to "keep the good times and bad times in perspective," save your breath. I don't care if all that's true - all I know is that when I wake up in the morning I wish to God that I were going anywhere else but to my stupid desk at work to count the hours until I can go home again. I'm wasting my life here. I haven't cried this much on a regular basis since I was still in diapers. Without a single doubt in my mind, I can say that this has been the worst year of my life.

So then, you ask, why haven't I left yet? Trust me, I'm working on it. I'm going back to school in September to start my master's degree, and until then I have another job lined up for the summer, but that's not supposed to start until the second week of June. Because of that, I don't really feel like I can leave much earlier than the middle of May, and yes, it's only a month, and yes, I've survived this long so I'll make it until then, but I still wish that I could just crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and have my mom call me in sick, like she used to do when I was in middle school. But for an entire month. And not because I'm actually sick. And I'd still like to get paid between now and then...

So then, you ask, if you're that unhappy, why don't you just give your two weeks notice and leave? Well, here's the thing - if I have to stay for another two weeks, I may as well stay for two more weeks after that. It's not like that'll save me from having to go to work tomorrow.