Job satisfaction or a means to an end:

[Two Gun Bob]

I dislike my job and no longer wish to feel the rush of wind in my hair or the call of the open road.
I don't want to be chatting shit about weather patterns or if there will be a chance of precipitation tomorrow.

Im not a weatherman just an old fart spinning aimlessly on a hamsterial wheel to a town called nowhere..
I don't want to be constantly asked what time am I on till or if I have been busy.
Talk to me normal eh and engage me in sohisticated etiquette.

I had to reduce my hours and now only work weekends so tonight I thought I would put my head down and graft hard.
I knew if I applied myself this weekend we could both treat ourself's on Monday to some of Tesco's finest fare.
Aldi and Lidl are ok if your on your arse but occationaly it's good to splash out on the odd post election celebration treat.
I worked hard this evening and if Mrs May or Jake Berry could have seen me they would have been very proud.
It was nearly shifts end and I took a last slurp of juice and wiped away the sweat from my furrowed brow.
I kicked the stirups hard for the ride to my last job.
It was a stange one and my mission if I choose to accept it was to convey an inebriated gent from the pub to his pals to continue the session.
On arrival he instructed me to go to the garage and get him beers and fetch them back.
I duly obliged and arrived at the garage.

Two young girls around 13 to 14 were stood outside the pay window with just dressing gowns on.
They had called down for Doritos at daft o'clock in the morning and asked for a free ride to town.
Sorry girls but on a mission impossible with deliveries to make so I bought the ale and started drive off.
Couldn't leave them there stranded so they jumped in.
Transpires they only wanted the town for cheaper Doritos as the garage was expensive.
I thought I was taking them home so five minutes later on them realising town was shut I dropped back at the garage as requested.
It's long winded reading I know but now I'm rather late with my drop so I gallop away trying to make up time and hit a speed camera.
It was like some surreal dream panning out in slooow motion.

So a magnificent turn over of £130 less fuel less rent of car and less radio rent for the night less £100 speed camera fine @ - minus £30 profit.
So I go to work to lose £30 and get no holiday pay no sickness pay and get continually harrased and tormented by hordes of ethanol fueled cabbages.

I just got back in the house.
I'm feeling sickly because when stressed I eat like I have Prader Willy Syndrome and I have just scoffed back two toast crusts with cheese and ham a full packet of jammie dodgers two penguins and a corned beef buttie.


An addedendum:
The speeding fines have changed .
Its three points for class A speed example doing up to 42 in a 30mph zone.
And a wopping £100 fine or it can be a fine proportionate to a weeks wage on a scale of 25% 50% 75%.

Like all hackney carriage drivers I am an exemplanary motorist having no points.
Hopefully I may get an offer of a trip to Bury speed awareness class at £80.
I shall put £1.50 a day in a jar to pay the fine or training course as it wont hurt as much.
I am wondering if there are extenuating circumstances to play with me acting public spirited as I was concerned over their safety therefore making me late. In doing so slightly exceeding the prescribed speed limit.
Do you like your job or is it just a means to an end to fetch home the bacon.

Edited for grammer syntax and composition:

 

[Bluechipblue]

I hate my job and I no longer want the rush of wind in my hair or the call of the open road.
I don't want to be chatting insesent shite about weather patterns or if I think there will be a chance of precipitation tomorrow.
Im not a weatherman just an old fart spinning aimlessly on a hamsterial wheel to a town called nowhere..
I don't want to be constantly asked what time am I on till or have I been busy.
Talk to me normaly eh and engage me in sohisticated etiquette.

I had to reduce my hours and now only work weekends so tonight I thought I would put my head down and graft like fook.
I knew if I applied myself this weekend we could both treat ourself's on Monday to all of Tesco's finest fare.
Aldi and Lidl are ok if your on your arse but occationaly it's good to splash out on the odd post election ceelebration treat.
I worked so hard this evening and if Mrs May or Jake Berry could have seen me they would have been very very proud.
It was nearly shifts end and I took a last slurp of my juice wiping away the sweat from my furrowed brow.
I kicked the stirups hard for the ride to my last job.
It was a stange one and my mission if I choose to accept it was to convey an inebriated gent from the pub to his pals to continue the session.
On arrival he instructed me to go to the garage and get him beers and fetch them back.
I duly obliged and arrived at the garage.
Two young girls around 13 to 14 were stood outside the pay window with just dressing gowns on.
They had called down for Doritos at daft o'clock in the morning and asked for a free ride to town.
Sorry girls but on a mission impossible with deliveries to make so I bought the ale and started drive off.
Couldn't leave them there stranded could I so they jumped in.
Transpires they were having me for a fat lad as they only wanted the town for cheaper Doritos as the garage was expensive.
I thought I was taking them home so five minutes later on them learning town was shut I dropped back at the garage as requested.
It's long winded reading I know but now I'm rather late with my drop so I gallop away trying to make up time and hit a speed camera.
It was like some surreal dream panning out in sloooow motion.

So a magnificent turn over of £130 less fuel less rent of car and less radio rent for the night less £100 speed camera fine @ - minus £30 profit.
So I go to work to lose £30 and get no holiday pay no sickness pay and get continually harrased and tormented by hordes of zombified ethanol fueled cabbages.

I just got back in the house and am proper stressed
I'm feeling sickly because when stressed I eat like I have Prader Willy Syndrome and I have just scoffed back two toast crusts with cheese and ham a full packet of jammie dodgers two penguins and a corned beef buttie.


An addedendum:
The speeding fines have changed .
Its three points for class A speed example doing up to 42 in a 30mph zone.
And a wopping £100 fine or it can be a fine proportionate to a weeks wage on a scale of 25% 50% 75%.

Like all hackney carriage drivers I am an exemplanary motorist having no points.
Hopefully I may get an offer of a trip to Bury speed awareness class at £80 with no points.
I shall put £1.50 a day in a jar to pay the fine or training course as it wont hurt as much.
I just woke my wife up to tell her but I dont think she is taking in the seriousnes of this situation as she was answering me back with both her eyes closed.

I am wondering if there is extenuating circumstances at play with me acting in a public spirited way as I was concerned over the youngsters safety which made me late and in doing so subcontiously slightly exceeding the prescribed speed limit.

As a last resort I guess I could crowd fund.
But at the moment I really really really hate my job !

Do you like your job or is it just a means to an end to fetch home the bacon.

Have you ever thought of writing novels?

 

[snorky]

Bummer of a shift. Bad luck Taxi. Next time just buy them the Doritos :)

 

[FantasyIreland]

Have you ever thought of writing novels?

To be successful,content needs to be interesting.

 

[Saddleworth2]

Bummer of a shift. Bad luck Taxi. Next time just buy them the Doritos :)

..and tell the lazy boy to get his own beer. Bad luck on the speeding though Taxi, thats a proper bummer. To answer your question though, work was always a means to an end and I left it the second I could afford to. Only decent thing about it was there were some really good people in amongst the army of self centred know-all loudmouthed twats.

 

[TheRemainsOfTheDave]

Bummer of a shift. Bad luck Taxi. Next time just buy them the Doritos :)

I'd have left them. They weren't stranded, they'd got there by themselves - garage's problem.
Buying them something, or doing something worse, like inviting them in for a free ride, seems infinitely worse.

 

[snorky]

I'd have left them. They weren't stranded, they'd got there by themselves - garage's problem.
Buying them something, or doing something worse, like inviting them in for a free ride, seems infinitely worse.

Fuckin hell. I think Taxi is a Hackney carriage driver, not jack the ripper. Try to do something nice and.....

 

[worsleyweb]

What about becoming a pole dancer?

 

[Thenumber1blue]

Aldi and Lidl shit all over tesco without being on your arse !

 

[dronefromsector7G]

To be successful,content needs to be interesting.

Saucer of milk for FI.



Seriously Taxi, get out of that job if you can. I know you're in your, ahem late 40s, but there's still time. My dad started taxiing in his thirties and died of a heart attack at 54 during a Friday night shift. I believe the job, with its stresses, irregular hours (and maybe his love of kebabs at shift end) played its part.