Back At The Salt Mines

Work, work, work. I'm back at a company I worked for earlier in the year. Nothing much had changed, well, it has only been a few months, really and nothing changes that fast, no matter how much we may like to blame our stress on such things. In fact, the work that I did for them hadn't progressed since the last time I worked for them. I am, actually, taking up where I left off... kind of.

I’m not complaining, at least I know what I am doing straight up. It is just an observation. We all blab on about the wonderful technology and the amazing advancements, but in all reality, those things are as flawed as the humans that set them up and use them.

I managed to get through the morning without a cigarette, but at lunchtime I caved in. Oh well, after smoking on holidays it is two steps forward and one step back with the return quitting. I kind of hit the home ground with the best of intensions, stumble a few times, bounce, fall over and then I quit, if not before, by the weekend. It is like Little Toot and all that “I think I can,” stuff, not really knowing if I really can, and then I have.

Sam is not happy about my smoking, he punches me every time I light one up. So, a couple of days, as they say.

I ran into the HR director in the car park when I got there this morning and he said, "You know you are Mr Popularity around here, it wasn't so much the job as we all just wanted you back." So, you know, that was kind of nice... and I like them too, so it is, kind, of mutual.

I was told, later in the morning, that they will probably want me till the end of January. Yay. The end of January, I thought? Goodness me, all that work. Yay. Just be positive, Christian, that was my next thought. Oh yes it was. Yay. How many months is that? Fingers. One, two , three… I've got to be that glass half full man, you know. Wonderful! How many months is that until I can loll around the lounge room with Buddy pissing the time away? Six months. Six months shouldn’t kill me?

Last year, when I worked in Collins Street with Chuckles for five months it began to feel interminable in the end. But, I am sure, that was mostly because of Chuckles sparkling personality. Dour bitch.

Up at 7am, iron a shirt, prepare my lunch box (actually, my lovely boyfriend does that for me) get in the car, negotiate the morning traffic, arrive at 8.30, be smiley, be fun, work till 5pm, drive home, cook dinner (my lovely boyfriend does that for me too) clean up the kitchen, go to bed at a time that the schedule dictates. Repeat. For six months. Every day. Big smile. Be happy. Woo Hoo, fists punching the air.

And, you know, after all of my carry on, I know, work is, actually, beneficial. Oh yes, big sigh, it is true. It socialises you, it engages your mind, it takes you out of the house, and out of yourself and it is, actually, easier to work than to stress about having no money. I think it is far less damaging to one’s psyche. Work.