Do you ever have those moments at work where you just want to pick up everything on your desk, throw it in the air and say, stuff this, I'm out? Then you quickly remember that you have rent and bills to pay and no sugar daddy or rich parents to pay for things, so despite the madness that work graciously provides you with, you still get up everyday and you still go to that place. What's that, you don't? Must just be me then...
I'm not entirely sure when you reach that point where you go from loving your job, to liking your job, to despising your job, to wanting to stab almost every colleague you have in the eye with a fork. All I know is that it happens gradually and then all at once. Well it has for me. Right now, I think I'm fluctuating between the despising the job and the illegal use of cutlery on colleagues who quite frankly, deserve it anyway. **Please note - I have not and would not (probably) stab one of my colleagues in the eye with a fork, despite how crazy they drive me.
What makes your shitty job even worse is when you return from holidays. When you spend three glorious weeks in Europe, pretty much a whole world away from the chaos that your usual Monday to Friday involves. Waking up on that first day back is
hard ridiculously painful to the point you consider cutting your own leg off to have an excuse not to go. "Sorry boss, won't be in today, my leg was chopped off this morning. Actually probably won't be in for the rest of the week." Clearly this is not an excuse you can use to "fake" a sick day. I'm pretty much certain that when you return to work (as sick leave only lasts so long), and your leg is attached again, questions will be raised, and I'm going to assume that the reasoning of the surgeon being a miracle worker who re-attaches limbs so that you cannot even recognise they were ever detached, will not suffice.
So you get up on that painful Monday morning after 24 amazing days of leisure and excitement. You commence that routine that is all too familiar to you. Alarm goes off, you snooze for half an hour, then realise you'll be late if you don't move now. You drag yourself to the shower, where your best thinking time is done, which means you think even more about the painful day you're about to encounter. You rush around to get ready, and walk out the door, rushing to your car, and look back at your house as you drive out the driveway, thinking, I'm sorry house, I didn't want to leave you either.
When you get to work it's exactly as it was when you left. Nothing has changed in those 3 weeks. Whilst you were away having the time of your life, your colleagues continued to function (just) in the way that they had done for the previous three months. The happiness of seeing those colleagues you've actually missed is enough to get you through the first hour. Then the realisation sets in that you're back in this place. And for five days a week, you're going to have to follow the same dull routine, and put yourself through the torture of attending a place that makes you feel, not only like stabbing your colleagues in the eyes with a fork, but also yourself in the eye with a fork.
What do you do when your work life reaches this point? Do you keep yourself in this place that will probably eventually have you institutionalised in a straight jacket in a padded cell (this actually sounds like a great way to spend time away from work)? Do you swear at your alarm every morning, and swear at your computer and phone at work each time that email or phone call comes in? Do you pick your paperwork off your desk, throw it on the floor and walk out, without even thinking about the possible ramifications? Or do you just ponder on and internalise the frustration of being in a job that doesn't give you what you need - satisfaction?
I guess the next step is job hunting. EWWWWW! Just the sound of that makes me cringe. Putting yourself up against a trillion (may be a slight exaggeration) other people who are fighting for the same job? Going to job interviews and telling them how amazing you are, without sounding like you actually believe it and are conceited? And get even more depressed each time you get a letter of rejection and realise that you're stuck in this place even longer?
I guess life is all about taking risks and making things work. If you're not happy in your job, get out. There's no point in fighting yourself everyday to go to a job you hate (that shit is exhausting). As bad as job hunting sounds, you've pretty much got two choices. Stay in a job you hate, or take responsibility for your own happiness and seek out that job you deserve. That job that can make a difference to your health and well-being. The job that can save yourself from the fork stabbing in the eye (oh good, you'll still be able to see - definitely a plus in a job interview for a job you need to be able to see in), the job that can save you from being thrown in the padded cell (as fun as that sounds) and the job that will protect everyone around you from Crazy Kat Cyclone which obviously wipes out everything in its path.
So I'm at the crossroads. Starting again. Begging someone to love me enough to give me a job. Putting up with a job I don't want to be at to continue to pay the bills while I seek out one that I'll be passionate about, and wake up before the alarm clock goes off each day. At least it will mean I get to keep my limbs. Especially after so much walking in Europe has given me some pretty epic calf muscles, I want to hang onto those a little longer.
So if you have an awesome, amazing job vacancy, I'm your girl! And if you're out there in the same situation, remember that the most important thing in any of this is your happiness. You deserve this. If you've tried and the job situation is unlikely to improve, get out there and seek out what you really want, unless it's one of the jobs I'm applying for, then you back off mate, I have enough competition without you competing against me too!