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Vox is hiring an arts-and-entertainment editor.

My initial reaction that I shared with my father? "Fuck them. Fuck them in their ear."

About two months after I started with the company, the then-A&E editor, Bob, resigned. Apparently he balked at all things technology and since Vox was launching a new website and promoting itself heavily on social media channels, he no longer fit in. I don't think I would've given up a job in our current economy, but maybe he shits money or has a trust fund from which he can suckle. If so, I need to find out if he's looking to adopt.

After Bob said adios, Vox inexplicably hired a news editor -- the Earl of Pandemonium. Ginger told me, more than once, that she had been against the decision. I thought it was a stupid idea but figured Vox had their reasons. I wouldn't learn for quite a while that Vox is just poorly managed.

In Bob's absence, Buckethead assumed the roles of managing editor AND arts editor. This, too, was a bad idea, especially when a certain underemployed writer who knew plenty about River City's art scene was sitting a few feet away. As you'll likely guess, Buckethead got even more overwhelmed. I got frustrated watching all of this unnecessary chaos unfold. Still, I held on. Maybe something will make eventually sense out of this mess.

Some time later, I found out that the EoP was resigning. In his place, Vox was hiring yet another news editor -- a woman who just HAPPENED to be Buckethead's friend. Skeletor, the intern I managed to resist pushing down the stairs on a daily basis, became the interim news editor. She was given writing opportunities and full-time hours and there I sat, in my cubicle, feeling invisible even though I scheduled meeting after meeting in which I all but begged for more hours and more responsibility.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of unemployment benefits and lived about a month on Vox's shitty part-time pay and the few dollars I was making working part-time for King V. Already behind on bills, I fell further behind and was on the verge of applying for rent assistance from the trustees. Apparently this also meant I was going to have to apply for food stamps. Despite my therapist's assertion that the help is there for people who need it, I balked at the idea. I'd carried and used my unemployment funds debit card for two years. I wanted to get a full-time job, not continue traversing a path of shame. Luckily, the job with Kata presented itself right as things were most dire and I Calgoned my way out of Vox. Buckethead was surprised I left Vox for a three-month contract position. Apparently "more hours and more money" don't translate into his first language.

A week ago today, a Facebook friend sent me an email with a link to Vox's job announcement.

I was livid. I walked into King V's office, swearing up a storm.

Over the next few days, however, I remembered a number of things:

• Bad management. BAAAAAAD.
• The job description said, in the first paragraph, something like, "This job is ideally suited for someone who cares more about journalism than a juicy paycheck." (Why hello, red flag!)
• They treated me with such little consideration. Lie after lie when the truth would've been so much simpler. Instead of "We should be able to bring you on FT in three months... um... six months... next fall for sure!," they should've just said no. Flat out. Here's the truth: We have no money. You're awesome and talented but we're print media, so we're really suffering. There is no future for you here. Great! I'll find another opportunity. Thank you for turning me into a professional writer. SEE YA. No hurt feelings, no anger, no blocked accounts on Twitter.
• Ginger didn't sign my goodbye card and couldn't be bothered to show up on my last day of work. From ally to enemy in 10 short months! It's like she sent away for an as-seen-on-TV, do-it-yourself kit.

Kata, in one month, moved faster than Vox did in almost a year. I was chosen for my first interview and though I didn't get the job, I felt recognized and important and vital and didn't have fears that I would eventually be living in my car. Two months in, I've interviewed for this second position and have the same good feeling. Even if I don't get chosen, though it feels like it could possibly-maybe-hopehopehope-knock-on-wood happen*, I know another opportunity will present itself.

* I am Tess' number-one pick for the job. She has mentioned this more than once to me AND to the editor-in-chief who is apparently making the final decision. Squee!

At the very least, I have my current job until the middle of August. I don't think Kata will get rid of our writing group -- well, they might dump a couple people -- but I really do feel that they're doing their best to find us all permanent jobs with the company. It's an exciting time. Let's all get tattoos to commemorate this occasion. How do you feel about skulls?