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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson


Work! Huh. What is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Say it again.

I have, for some time, been feeling slightly miserable in my present job, despite the fact that it took me so long to get here. Everyone obviously remembers my job hunt – if not, check the archives for details. I’d link, but I’m far too lazy.

On Friday, my boss had the fabulous idea, considering my current rocky feelings towards the workplace, to take me in to her office and reprimand me for a number of different misdemeanors – some of which were founded, some of which were so outrageously false that I was rendered completely speechless.

I was told that I’m taking too much time off. Chance would be a fine thing – I’ve had my holiday allowance very curtailed thanks to the adventures in August, and since then, every time I’ve requested a holiday, I’ve had that thrown back in my face. I’m going home for a very very short period over Christmas, something which is breaking my heart. I’ve had to come in late at least one morning every week for the last month due to having to go to physiotherapy for my back problems – but really, I shouldn’t have fallen down a flight of stairs last December, should I? I already cleared that with my boss though, and at the time she said that my health was my most important consideration. She seems to have changed her mind.

The worst thing that was said was that fact that “some members of the team” didn’t feel that I was pulling my weight. This isn’t mountain rescue here, people. This isn’t a life or death situation – I work in a freaking office. I move paper around. I type things all day long, and occasionally I fax things. I do what I’m asked to do, and I think I do it quite well. I’ve been fighting my corner here about a few things for a while now, and the thanks I get is that I’m just not doing enough. My immediate reaction? – Screw all that. I’m not trying anymore. This is due to the fact that, mentally and emotionally, I am 5 years old.

What I do every day from 9am to 5pm is my day job. This is how I earn money to do other things. This is what I do so that I can go down to London for a weekend and spend 5 hours in the freezing cold so that I can jump up and down and scream at some musicians for three hours. This is what I do to pay my bills and feed my dog. It is not a choice. It is a necessity. I’m just trying to make it the best I can.

But to be told, despite your best efforts to fight through the boredom, the tedium, the repetition and the thankless nonsense that you have to do every day, you’re still not seen to be doing enough? I’d rather sweep the roads for a living. I’m seriously considering leaving, and soon. Is this a good idea? Why not email me – sharon@drugsmakemecool.com – and tell me what you think. All advice appreciated.

This entry was posted on 10 December 2002 at 11:13 am. 0 comments

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