My life has now become so mundane that when good things happen they now feel wonderful.
Work gets me down so much. Not the actual work itself, but the constant bullshit I have to deal with from my boss and my colleagues. The latest is a 15 page document for my 2 month probation period, consisting of pages of pathetic comments about every aspect of my performance at work. It's like a fucking school report only far, far worse. Most of it is completely inaccurate as my boss has no idea how good I am at my job because she sits in an office all day (when she actually turns up) and makes minimal interaction with other members of staff. I am now meant to write a response to every single comment written on this piece of garbage: "please don't leave any boxes blank - even if you write "I agree"'. I don't agree. I disagree with all of this pointless drivel. But of course I shall sit down and churn out some meaningless comments because that's how you keep a job these days: you do everything they tell you and agree with everything they say. Why should I behave as though they are doing me some kind of favour by employing me? We have reached a professional agreement, I don't owe them anything. And why is it impossible for my boss to communicate with me in a more normal, rational, concise way: i.e. by talking to me as though I am a human being.
I am outnumbered. Everyone else there has either been there so long they have become unrealistically defensive about the way things are run, or they are related to the boss.
At lunchtime I was so disillusioned I went to the cafe and ordered a jacket potato and 3 cans of Coca-Cola. It reminded me of when I would do this every lunchtime in my old job. For a moment I wished I was back there. No more backbreaking labour, no more time-wasting paperwork... it really was an easy job. I hated it though. Why do we spend our lives yearning for things we don't have? I couldn't wait to escape from 6th form, thinking I'd feel liberated and passionate and reckless once I'd left, but in truth school provided a type of stability that I'll never get back. I knew working would be bitter and boring and emotionally draining, but I didn't think that in between work the hours would flutter past me quite so quickly. And I never imagined I could feel this painfully lonely. That I'd still feel vulnerable and stupid and indecisive. That I'd be constantly looking for an easy escape, a way to get me through another hour, another week. When I cycle home I barely have the strength or motivation to push the pedals.
I am so anoyingly sensitive that I dwell on things people say to me for weeks afterwards. Even if it's my boss who says them. Especially then.
Thank you to Ben, my only friend in London, who patiently listened to an extended version of the above on the phone tonight, without telling me to get a grip. I need to learn to shut up. I wish I was as nice as he is.
x
Today I went to work on five hours sleep and my lunch was a packet of custard creams. Not a particularly good or healthy situation. But somehow I've made it through another 7 days of work, another Maths class fuelled by strong coffee. I'll probably spend the next two days sleeping.
