I want to work hard but...

I wouldn’t say I’ve exactly worked hard all my life. At school and university I did what I considered to be the bare minimum (although admittedly still probably more than a lot of others) to get through with OK grades. But once I actually started working for a living I would say I put 100% into everything I’ve done. I haven’t moved jobs an awful lot (6 years in my last one, 3 before that) and I’m genuinely quite loyal, which means that I want the company to succeed and I’ll do what I’m paid to do to the best of my ability. Don’t for one minute think that I’m one of the lucky few that has always had the perfect job within the perfect company and with the perfect colleagues. Far from it, but even then I still give it my all.

But things have changed. I now find I don’t have enough to do and even the stuff that I do is really rather tedious. It’s very admin heavy (I’m not an administrator) and in no way stretches my mental ability. I sometimes feel like my poor little brain cells are going to sleep one by one and gradually falling into a final, everalsting hibernation. My boss is aware that it’s become very admin heavy (I use the word heavy in a relative context) and suggests that we look at an additional part-time administrator. The problem is, take that away from me and I really am left with pretty much nothing to do. Weird thing is, I’m not (touch wood) at risk of redundancy because I’m needed for those “just in case” scenarios (like the printer doesn’t work because someone hasn’t put paper in – and no, that’s nothing to do with my job it’s just no one else seems competent enough to work this out). I should count myself lucky really.

But I’m bored. Bored beyond belief and I'm finding it soul destroying. When the boss isn’t around I can at least have a nose around the internet (in the last week I have learnt about semolina, this history of computers 1939-1944, how to trade shares, quinoa, Antony & Cleopatra and the rise and fall of Egypt). But when he’s here, a have to at least try to look busy. Some days I’m even so bored and lacklustre that I can’t even be bothered to do the small things that need doing – it took me a week to go up to the second floor to photocopy a two page document.  I’ve tried finding more things to do but, short of actually doing a paper clip audit (now there’s an idea), I think I’ve just about exhausted all avenues.

The days drag and I feel weary at the end of them and by the time we get around to Sunday afternoon I’m already dreading the tedium of the week ahead. I’m worried about the long term impact it’s having on my overall motivational levels and whether I’ll ever be truly inspired to put my heart and soul into another job.

So what should I do. Stick around and be miserable in a job that pays ok, or look for something that will at least stretch the mind but only pay me half the money? Time to start making some decisions.

I just want to work hard.

An ode to tangly headphones

Black of form, all curved and bendy,

Headphones of mine, you are my friendy.

You help to pass with spoken pages,

Journeys that would have taken ages.

Music’s muse is your device,

An electromagnetic paradise,

With treble, bass, and mid-range clear,

You sit so snugly in my ear.

Your little voice is always soothing

Regardless of the mood that I’m in,

You see me through the fetid gym,

But I really wish that you could swim.

And yet, despite your splendid features,

You are the most fickle of creatures,

So I ask you, from this pit of woe:

Why do you tangle so?

For when you’re done at end of day,

I tidy your long limbs away,

I tuck you in - not leave you dangling,

To ensure no risk of you entangling,

But when I reach you in the morning,

With no rhyme, no reason, nor broadcast warning,

To my heavy heart’s dismay,

I find you all in disarray!

I pick you up, my palms a-sweaty

To find some headphone-esque spaghetti,

All tangled, twisted and cruelly knotted

And to think before I was besotted!

Oh headphones I thought you were my friend,

But you test my patience to the end,

Ten minutes each morning I spend with thee,

Wrestling your little tangly legs free.

So be careful, oh headphones, for my will is thin.

You’d also fit snugly in the bin.