When did life become an increasingly irritating series of events specifically designed to get you out of bed? Seriously, when did life become so bloody complicated?! For months I have been concerned by the arrested development of the manufacturing company I work for. The current financial climate has had an adverse effect on companies profits, their ability to reach any of their estimates and with the number of high profile resignations within the business, it’s fair to say I’ve been hoping for some kind of stability or at least managerial recourse to isolate and establish an amendment to the current economic lull. All my enquiries into how they will address these issues have been met with fraudulent condescending that only hastens your intolerance to the whole sordid affair. I don’t love my job, I don’t hate it either but it is one of convenience. I’m afforded weekends off as well as working half day Friday’s, which has benefited my writing greatly and allowed me to prioritise my relationship with my girlfriend instead of an all consuming career. It doesn’t pay well but because I’ve never been in a position of financial affluence I don’t really know what I’m missing. You learn moderation and as such I’m also extremely well suited to organise my finances, as I have a keen ability to differentiate between want and need, developing frugality so that both “want” and “need” never conflict. Last week however things changed.
I was summoned to an impromptu board meeting, these formal engagements are ordinarily reserved for the higher echelons of the company, attended by only the most important stewards that helm this doomed vessel or–how to put this delicately?–people such as myself when they’re notified of permanent changes to their current work status. “Great” I thought, “Got a mortgage, vehicle and soon a baby girl to pay for. How am I going to do that now without a job?” I mused. To my surprise that it isn’t what happened, in fact it was actually good news. In the advent of one of the members of office staffs imminent departure I was offered an alternative role as “Assistant Manager of Production”. The resulting consultation concluded with me receiving my own desk, internal email address, a top of the range Mac computer to abuse and the capacity to wear more casual attire to work. Not what I had expected but certainly not a disappointing result. I returned to whatever tasked I had left and felt awash with a degree of pride. Anyway it wasn’t until a week later that I was formally assimilated into my new function, learning the intricacies needed to perform my duties efficiently. It was then that I began to realise just how much I’m going to HATE this new role.
Sometimes you just know that something isn’t immediately clicking. By the second day of rigorous apathy, guided under the brief tutelage of a guy whom I’d have to learn 9 years worth of detailed system configurations in a week, without anyone else with the required knowledge to assist me in his stead, he began to sense my hesitancy. I confided that there was no way that I could suitably learn all of this within the time frame required, to which he retorted that to dictate the necessary information would require at least 6 months worth of tuition! It’s not that I didn’t understand what was expected of me, because a had a very clear comprehension of the agreement I had informally consented to. It was the sheer volume of work as well as the highly volatile nature of the occupation that deterred me from actively willing to commit. The salary benefits I would’ve received for the increased workload didn’t really reflect the level of responsibility either. It was like playing a game you hated on Hard! The austere atmosphere that circulated around the office was particularly disconcerting. Where I was before people engaged with each other in a very jovial manner. Here though people’s attitudes were reflected by the authority they held or the expensive watches they bought. I hated it!
The severity of the humdrum vocation didn’t finally hit until I went home and began stripping the wallpaper from my kitchen walls and realised how therapeutic that was? I couldn’t be complicit any more and voiced my concerns to my boss, who hadn’t sanctioned my original employment restructuring and agreed that I’d be under enough stress at home with a new born let alone at work. I felt bad for him but I was under no formal obligation to continue. There was no contract, no signature that invalidates my agreement, merely an exchange of dialogue that precipitated cursory acceptance of the position. I’m lucky in the fact that I’m in a position where opportunities such as these can be turned down. But I couldn’t advocate such additional pressure in my life, or more accurately our lives (my girlfriend and I) without fracturing to our domestic integrity. As sentimental as this sounds, the sanctity of our relationship is not something I’m prepared to sacrifice at any cost.