Work....who likes it.

Love it. Never a dull moment, keeps me very fit, pays great, somewhere different everyday. Pick and choose when I work and can take time off whenever I want. Massively helps being the boss. Got to enjoy what you do. Know far too many people miserable everyday.
 
N1985 said:
Love it. Never a dull moment, keeps me very fit, pays great, somewhere different everyday. Pick and choose when I work and can take time off whenever I want. Massively helps being the boss. Got to enjoy what you do. Know far too many people miserable everyday.
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I envy you mate having a job that you love.

My job was interesting but I never wanted to go to work, used to get depressed about 6pm every Sunday as Monday was looming.
 
Bill Walker said:
I envy you mate having a job that you love.

My job was interesting but I never wanted to go to work, used to get depressed about 6pm every Sunday as Monday was looming.
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I have to go to the gym on Sundays, it takes the edge off the angst for Monday. If I sit about and watch TV and do nothing, my life ain't worth living.
 
I always thought working in an office was quite similar to living at a medieval court. Lots of backstabbing cunts who would shit on you to gain an advantage, and only a few you could really trust. I was lucky to have some decent gaffers. I also worked for some total morons and one or two utter bastards.

On reflection, I should have fucked office work off before I was 19, but I was a bit conservative and my parents would always discourage me from leaving what they saw as a secure job. It's entirely my own fault, no one else's, that I did not follow my heart.

My advice to any young person would be to try to find a line of work that you enjoy and don't let salary issues rule you. Because most of your life is effectively spent working, and you need to be (at least) content for the good of your mental health.
 
stonerblue said:
Fuck that. If he or she is young and no ties then get out into the world now
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I don't quite understand your reply. What do you mean get out into the world now? You'll still have to work unless you either live off benefits or somehow have enough money to sustain yourself.
 
flook said:
Retired this year at 58, in the process of closing down my one man ltd co which I've worked through for 32 years and then I'm done, all ties severed. I never "liked" my job but its only in the past 5 or 6 years I've actively hated it.

Time is now happily spent hiking, reading, afternoon snoozing (it's fucking brilliant don't knock it) and recently returned to archery for my third dabble, any spare time topped up with photography and occasionally what the missus asks me to do.
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Out of interest what was your business?
 
Lovebitesandeveryfing said:
Did labouring jobs as a young man. Obviously, I knew it was only temporary. That changes everything. Worked in Longsight for a summer, believe it or not.
Once spent a summer working in a bread factory. The conditions were quite simply a sustained form of violence against the human body, and the human soul. That was an education in itself. Worked with a partner who barely spoke to me through the eight hour shifts (the noise was incredible, anyway, you had to virtually bellow to make yourself heard). He'd been there five years. I was just a tourist, passing through, he knew that, so he didn't respect me. I don't blame him. Maybe he hated me. I used to look at him and think, “You appear to be shackled to this”.
Later, worked in a small publishers, in promotions, out in Barking, Essex. It was ok, but I always saw myself moving on. Absolutely every last one of them was a Hammers fan, they used to give me a terrible ribbing when City had lost on the Monday mornings. A good bunch, by and large. I grew to hate the job after two years, mainly because of the managing director, who was a considerable dickhead. Think David Brent and you're not far off.
When I handed in my notice, I told one of the girls in the typing pool. I quite fancied her, and she was an intelligent girl — again, shackled in her own mind to a typewriter. She was seething with anger, because she could see no way out. Nineteen years old. Was always quite aggressive with me. Anyway, I told her, and I'll never forget the really deep melancholy in her voice as she said, without even looking at me, “Oh… I wish I could do that.”
It's getting on for fifty years on, but I to this day regret not sitting down and saying quietly and firmly to that girl (her name was Nicola), “For God's sake, Nicola. You're nineteen. Do not say to yourself, this is my only option. Take your life in hand. Move…”
It depresses to read some of the posts on here, because I understand them very well. I could have just stayed put. The money was shit at that publishers, but it was comfortable enough, in a soul destroying kind of way. Used to get up early on Saturday mornings to train up to Piccadilly on the football special (when there were such things). Back in the evening. That kept me going.
When I first saw The Office I couldn't really laugh. It was disturbing. It was too close to the bone. That could have been me, or not far off — not Brent, certainly not, but maybe Tim, maybe (horrors) Gareth! Maybe even Dawn. People hanging around, frittering their lives away, day after day, waiting for something to turn up. But it's not going to. And they're all kind of sad in their own way. It is truly pathetic how jubilant Tim is when he gets a tiny promotion, which is almost nothing more than changing his job title.
About ten years ago, I had a dream that I was back at that exact same place. I had found nothing better to with my life than go back there after all those years. They were all still there. They didn't seem in the least surprised to see me, some were even smirking, as if to say “You see? Haha, we knew you'd be back…!” The sense of relief when I woke up and realised it was only a dream cannot be exaggerated.
Anyway, I handed in my notice, and changed my life, radically. But that's another story.
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Great little tale and very very true :)
 
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