It seems that this is a year of going places while sitting still. If I let it work would be kicking my arse right about now. I simply don’t care about the job or the company any more and the less I care the more I’m given to do. That’s okay though. Every chore, every tedious task is met with the mantra ‘this will look good on my CV’. And it will, you know: more authority, more responsibility, more documents, manuals and procedures to be decided and written, people to be trained, so many people to be trained, performance reviews to do, meetings to attend, negotiations to be attended to, and even OH&S finally to be understood and dealt with (so useful for government applications), and fuck only knows what else, ah, whatever, I don’t much care. The less I care the more is thrown my way. Even to the point of a (very) tentative management offer. I find this absolutely hilarious. I will take it with both hands if the offer is offered and the offering right. I would take it knowing that I have explicitly told the offerer that the only reason I’ve cut back on looking for a new job is that I have surgery scheduled for June and am not in a position to give up my sick leave.
A bit dire really. I think my immune system is bit depressed even if I’m not. More reasonably, I suspect that having a chronic health issue has simply fucked with my body’s ability to deal with, well, virtually everything. So far this year I’ve had some kind of virus since late January (‘Could you just have a look at my throat?’ ‘You’ve got some kind of virus.’ ‘…!’ [End] x2), on top of the virus I had a very nasty cold – just when I was on holidays too, yay, and upon my unimpressed return to work I developed tonsillitis though this was almost certainly directly related to the work thing outlined above. In short, I feel a bit shit most of the time and have stopped seeing people and doing things because I require enormous amounts of arse-to-couch contact. I have one other small health related gripe. I am on the only Pill known to man that increases hair growth. No, I have not started chest hair or a beard but I do have stacks of new growth on my head. Little one and two inch hairs that make me look unkempt ALL of the time. Frustrating. And they’re mostly grey.
Totally non-existent. Despite getting a pay rise to go with my sudden increase in workload and responsibility I sadly only manage to net about $30 of it a fortnight. It was a pretty insignificant raise. And I exist on a financial borderline where the toe over gets chopped off. I’d love to say oh well I’ll get it back at tax but the reality is that student loans and HELP means that cash gets snatched away as fast as I earn it. Oh well, eh? Also, I joined the union as we’re involved in pay negotiations and, much more specifically, I am engaged in pay negotiations and I want my arse covered. Nice, eh? Also, you know, united we stand and something something something. I shall have more money presently when I pay off some things. Oh joyousness I may save for a real holiday and replace my poor beleaguered Doc Martens which have, sadly, worn through (the leather) and gone rather bald (the sole) and retire my poor laptop…and…and…I spend money faster than I make it.
Really, it’s not you, it is most definitely me. I lack the funds and the energy to do anything. So I don’t. I don’t even want to talk to people. My colleagues have decided that I am their best friend, their mother, their teacher, their counsellor, their life coach and any other amalgam of archetypes specifically designed to suit their needs. I am wildly over it. I am exhausted by it. I am about a minute from screaming ‘quit yer fuckin cryin’ at everyone. I am waiting for time to pass, CV credits to be accrued, operations to be done and dusted, cash to learn to flow again, and all of life’s edges to be sanded back and made nice and neat. Doubtless I will get there and life will start again.