My boss announced, in a Friday staff meeting, that this coming Friday would be his last day. He didn't tell any of us beforehand, although in my 1:1 meeting on Tuesday he mentioned how he felt like he was drifting, and unmotivated, and that the company was making it almost impossible to get promoted, and that there was no real place for him to go. I told him that I felt much the same way, and he expressed sympathy, but without a lot of reassurance; that explains why.
After my three week vacation, it was incredibly difficult to reengage with my job; while I like my immediate coworkers, and I mostly get to set my own priorities for what I'm working on, it still feels like I'm stagnating a bit, and the majority of my work is now cleaning out the gutters and quietly cleaning up after the sloppiness of my teammates (often without them knowing.) All in all, not terribly rewarding, except for the alleviation of the irritation at knowing that stuff is terrible.
At the same time... I'm not sure what else I'd want to do. The trend for my specialty (unix-based system admin for IT) seems to be "going away in favor of AWS or the handwavey cloud", production sysadmin work is going towards the same plus "docker + vagrant + framework of the week". I suppose I could pick up coding again, but I don't think I'd be too enthusiastic about it. (But with depression + anhedonia, not a whole lot sounds too enthusing.) What complicates things significantly is my housing situation: if I left SF to go work somewhere else (the SFBA peninsula, south bay, or elsewhere), there's no way I'd be able to get an apartment in the city for what I'm currently paying. For that matter, it seems doubtful that I'd get an apartment for what I'm currently paying anywhere in the Bay Area. That implies I could or should start looking elsewhere, but I turn into a Buridan's ass way too quickly when confronted with excess choice.
I suppose I should find a shrink; judging from how pimply and broken out I've gotten after coming back, my stress levels are through the roof. Plan B: win the billion dollar lottery, ho ho ho. (Plan C is "move back to my parent's house and try to connive my way into a Master's program somewhere despite not having a Bachelor's"; I don't know how much more likely that is than plan A.)
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