I'm almost always right

Told you I'm not interested in what the company considers 'promotion'.

I had to drive to the office today for four lousy pieces of paper. They can't just drop them in an envelope and mail them, or fax them or email the damn things... oh no, I have to drive 45 miles round trip instead.

It's one of the things that's less-than-perfect about the job.
There are a few.

Lack of communication can be an issue (they are terrible about answering emails despite telling us they prefer to communicate via email) but it's nice in a way, too.

Whatever the opposite of micromanaging is, that's what I get 98% of the time.
I go and do exactly what I want at my site, the kids are happy, my program is full on a couple days now, I have a pretty good balance of boys/girls and a broad age range in the group.

I would prefer not to have to visit the office for anything, but apparently that's not an option I can choose.

When I walked in this morning, there was a meeting going on in the smallest meeting room. About 15 people were discussing prices of English muffins and how they're being served at our day care centers. From the expressions on their faces and the gravity in their voices, one would gather the impression that they were altering the future of the planet... unless you stood still long enough to understand what they were discussing. Really sort of hilarious if you consider it.

I turned in my paperwork from last week. Picked up some supplies. Talked to the registration person. Loaded things into my car. Went back in to use the restroom before getting back on the freeway.

Went back into the supply room to see if there were any watercolor paints. I think I was at the office for about 25 minutes.

Four of our field coordinators and three managers were just coming in from their morning shift at different sites. They were in discussion, trying to figure out where they'd be assigned after school.
When I walked past the conference room again on my way out with my boxes of watercolors, they were STILL discussing muffins. They'd been joined by a couple of our field coordinators.
A couple other ones were making copies.
Collating stacks of paper.

Stack. Tamp against table. Staple.

Good grief.

I got back on the freeway to come home. I'm glad that I am just a lowly site director.