Several days of doing next-to-nothing have taken their toll and despite the laughable amounts of time I’ve had on my hands since last week, I have not felt inspired towards any sort of creativity – not even a trip to Legoland nudged me towards a blog entry, although this event may have to be recorded for posterity at a later date. Instead of entertaining the single-figured masses with my wry brand of verbose sarcasm, I have spent my time browsing online and taking training courses with the hope that I will eventually be able to understand an entire sentence spoken by one of the City gents and/or ladies.
At present my learning is at a level similar to that of my ability to speak French. When things are written down or spoken slowly, as if to a deaf aunt or determined labrador, I am able to translate unfamiliar phrases and terminology (eg. ‘low yield bonds’ or ‘sinking funds’) back into a language I understand and no-one is able to monitor the sluggishness of this process. However, as in France, when anyone in the office speaks to me at a normal pace about the financial sphere, their strange vocabulary blurs into a foreign mess and I am unable to do anything beyond registering that a) I have heard these words before and b) I should know what they mean but c) I do not.
Maybe one day I’ll be bilingual but for now I am reduced to hiding behind my computer screen and consoling myself with the fact that it’s the weekend in three minutes. Although I do have to go to the gym straight after work so consider that weekend commencement postponed until approx. 6.30pm. The treadmill. Pah. Liposuction looking increasingly appealing.
Friday, 30 March 2007
Friday, 23 March 2007
Desperate Times
At 09:34 this morning I had finished all the work I could do for today. Since then I have been creating absurdly unnecessary jobs for myself in order to pass the time and pouncing on the phone when it rings so that I look as though I have a role, even though I am clearly superfluous and will be for as long as my boss is out of the office.
This afternoon I have stopped attempting to appear engaged with my work, since it must be obvious to all that I have none. Instead, in a brief moment of bravery, I strolled off the company intranet and onto eBay, to see if a second-hand coat I’ve been watching has spiralled out of affordability. Quickly, I fell into the lulling vortex that I so often experience when I’m on eBay – hours, possibly days, can go by while I scroll, as one possessed, through the world’s rejected clothing and accessories.
Today, however, I tangentised in a way that shocked even myself. Seeing that my coat-elect was still under £10, I absent-mindedly clicked on another of the seller’s items that attracted my attention. It was a few seconds too many before I realised what it was I was contemplating. All at once my self-awareness returned with a surge and I became aware that I was regarding a large selection of vintage wedding dresses.
As the bare and, I like to think, still youthful ring finger of my precious left hand will attest, I am not engaged. Nor am I in any hurry to become a fiancée. Clearly my boredom is plumbing new depths and forcing me to take refuge in embarrassing daydreaming that suggests a wholly-incorrect discontentedness with my current unwed status. I need distractions. The weekend begins in zero minus 91 minutes.
This afternoon I have stopped attempting to appear engaged with my work, since it must be obvious to all that I have none. Instead, in a brief moment of bravery, I strolled off the company intranet and onto eBay, to see if a second-hand coat I’ve been watching has spiralled out of affordability. Quickly, I fell into the lulling vortex that I so often experience when I’m on eBay – hours, possibly days, can go by while I scroll, as one possessed, through the world’s rejected clothing and accessories.
Today, however, I tangentised in a way that shocked even myself. Seeing that my coat-elect was still under £10, I absent-mindedly clicked on another of the seller’s items that attracted my attention. It was a few seconds too many before I realised what it was I was contemplating. All at once my self-awareness returned with a surge and I became aware that I was regarding a large selection of vintage wedding dresses.
As the bare and, I like to think, still youthful ring finger of my precious left hand will attest, I am not engaged. Nor am I in any hurry to become a fiancée. Clearly my boredom is plumbing new depths and forcing me to take refuge in embarrassing daydreaming that suggests a wholly-incorrect discontentedness with my current unwed status. I need distractions. The weekend begins in zero minus 91 minutes.
Thursday, 22 March 2007
No News Does Not Equal Good News
Nor, however, does it necessarily equal bad news. In this particular case, no news means, oddly, no news.
I have started my job. I’ve been here over a fortnight. I am learning a lot of things. And although the process of learning anything is, in itself, stimulating and satisfying, once the learning has occurred, one is just left with the ability to do something new. This would be ideal if a particular ability challenged my brain or imbued me with self-satisfaction. But sadly, of the myriad new skills I have acquired, it is safe to say that the number of those which captivate me is precisely zero. In fact, it may be more accurate to say that nothing I have done here would be of any interest whatsoever to anyone at all. The jobs I have to carry out are so mundane in nature that when I have tried to enlighten well-meaning friends and family members about my day’s tasks, I have induced narcoleptic attacks in both listeners and speaker.
I am bored. I’m so bored I have taken to poring over my own junk mail. Each five minute chunk of today has been noted as I have been sitting at my desk. And unexpectedly, being paid very well to be bored neither disguises nor removes the unpleasantness of the experience. I am utterly unstimulated and it is making me hate myself.
That said, there is a chance that I may be given new responsibilities in a couple of weeks. This carrot is just enough to keep me with my feet under the desk for the time being. Those concerned acquaintances who have long worried about me during my freelance years, those who greeted my announcement of full-time employment with barely-concealed tears of relief and joy, will be terrified that I might ‘do something stupid’ and jack it all in – but they’ll just have to wait and see what happens. As will I. But for now, honestly, there’s no news.
I have started my job. I’ve been here over a fortnight. I am learning a lot of things. And although the process of learning anything is, in itself, stimulating and satisfying, once the learning has occurred, one is just left with the ability to do something new. This would be ideal if a particular ability challenged my brain or imbued me with self-satisfaction. But sadly, of the myriad new skills I have acquired, it is safe to say that the number of those which captivate me is precisely zero. In fact, it may be more accurate to say that nothing I have done here would be of any interest whatsoever to anyone at all. The jobs I have to carry out are so mundane in nature that when I have tried to enlighten well-meaning friends and family members about my day’s tasks, I have induced narcoleptic attacks in both listeners and speaker.
I am bored. I’m so bored I have taken to poring over my own junk mail. Each five minute chunk of today has been noted as I have been sitting at my desk. And unexpectedly, being paid very well to be bored neither disguises nor removes the unpleasantness of the experience. I am utterly unstimulated and it is making me hate myself.
That said, there is a chance that I may be given new responsibilities in a couple of weeks. This carrot is just enough to keep me with my feet under the desk for the time being. Those concerned acquaintances who have long worried about me during my freelance years, those who greeted my announcement of full-time employment with barely-concealed tears of relief and joy, will be terrified that I might ‘do something stupid’ and jack it all in – but they’ll just have to wait and see what happens. As will I. But for now, honestly, there’s no news.
Monday, 12 March 2007
It’s all about the money… for now
It was inevitable that some infectious commuter would spread some disgusting virus to me before long, with my immune system weakened by years of working from home and only rare interactions with the populace at large. The fact that my contraction of a sore throat and impending cold has been combined with the first Monday of my first full week in full-time employment seems a little harsh, however. It is mid-afternoon and I am flagging with the committed skills of a semaphore addict.
Office work is just as I remembered it, only now with less celebrities and more need for accuracy. I am still finding it hard to believe that this is my new life – not merely a brief jaunt into a strange netherworld – and that I will be here, doing this or something pretty similar, for the next few months, perhaps even for years. I’ve long longed for increased financial stability but now it’s been handed to me, the restrictive sensation of a predictable future is looming large. However, payday is in a week and a half and it is possible that my ability to cope with any monotony could increase slightly as a consequence.
Office work is just as I remembered it, only now with less celebrities and more need for accuracy. I am still finding it hard to believe that this is my new life – not merely a brief jaunt into a strange netherworld – and that I will be here, doing this or something pretty similar, for the next few months, perhaps even for years. I’ve long longed for increased financial stability but now it’s been handed to me, the restrictive sensation of a predictable future is looming large. However, payday is in a week and a half and it is possible that my ability to cope with any monotony could increase slightly as a consequence.
Wednesday, 7 March 2007
And so it begins...
Conspiracy theory of today: could it be that clothing manufacturers deliberately plaster their office garments in labels, unnecessary blanket stitching in a contrasting colour and/or spare buttons in handy miniature envelopes so that those most likely to be wearing a new suit – new employees – are likely to miss one or more of these unwanted add-ons and wander straight into an embarrassing first day office gaffe? Fortunately, thanks to my eagle eyes, I was spared such humiliation, but it did strike me as slightly absurd that I had to cut at least seven separate items off my suit jacket yesterday. And thank goodness I had the foresight to deal with this issue in advance – had I left it to my bleary-eyed self at 7am this morning after a night’s sleep that can at best be described as laughable, I have no doubt that I would have arrived at my enrolment with the back vents of my jacket still stitched, consigning me to a day of finger pointing and a lifetime of anecdotes.
Day One at the new place has been interesting and big thumbs up have been awarded a) to the private little glass-walled office which will be my daytime home for the foreseeable future; b) to the subsidised canteen which seems more than adequate; and c) to my predecessor who left a packet of Fox’s Chocolate Creams in my second drawer. Now I’m off to my book club where my main focus will be to avoid turning up to Day Two with a stinging hangover. I am not optimistic.
Day One at the new place has been interesting and big thumbs up have been awarded a) to the private little glass-walled office which will be my daytime home for the foreseeable future; b) to the subsidised canteen which seems more than adequate; and c) to my predecessor who left a packet of Fox’s Chocolate Creams in my second drawer. Now I’m off to my book club where my main focus will be to avoid turning up to Day Two with a stinging hangover. I am not optimistic.
Tuesday, 6 March 2007
The Wait Is Over
Despite efforts to remain fairly anonymous - and apologies to anyone who is bitterly disappointed that this isn't being typed by an intellectually advanced bottlenosed whale - I now have a sneaking suspicion that my future bosses may have found this blog and have been reading it.
Only a few minutes after I posted my Anti-Ode to Being Housebound yesterday afternoon, I received a phonecall from my new employers, during which I was informed that I'd passed my preliminary checks and would be welcome to start on Wednesday 7th March. Aware of my own irritation with my stationary status, I readily agreed and hung up the phone.
I had hoped that delirium would hit the moment I finally received an end date to this much-bemoaned boredom, but instead, as predicted, I was gripped by an instant and forceful panic, along with an immediate yearning for my weary indolence of just moments earlier. How could I have been so ungrateful for my structureless existence? The inaudible ticking of my computer's desktop clock became deafening - the final precious hours until my first commute were fast dissolving and I needed to appreciate every last second of freedom.
And what have I done in the 24 hours since then? Spent time reading in front of a log fire, gone for a long walk, seen an exhibition, revelled in my duvet or watched a film in the morning? No. I have been irritatingly sensible and have spent my time clearing a backlog of admin: buying advance train tickets for an Easter weekend jaunt, reading up on my new employers and trying and failing to purchase an advance Oyster travelcard update online. However, thankfully I have not been entirely practical and am pleased to announce that over the course of the last few minutes I have revelled in my last weekday mid-afternoon snooze for the foreseeable future. My next post will be as an employee. Brings tears to my eyes.
Only a few minutes after I posted my Anti-Ode to Being Housebound yesterday afternoon, I received a phonecall from my new employers, during which I was informed that I'd passed my preliminary checks and would be welcome to start on Wednesday 7th March. Aware of my own irritation with my stationary status, I readily agreed and hung up the phone.
I had hoped that delirium would hit the moment I finally received an end date to this much-bemoaned boredom, but instead, as predicted, I was gripped by an instant and forceful panic, along with an immediate yearning for my weary indolence of just moments earlier. How could I have been so ungrateful for my structureless existence? The inaudible ticking of my computer's desktop clock became deafening - the final precious hours until my first commute were fast dissolving and I needed to appreciate every last second of freedom.
And what have I done in the 24 hours since then? Spent time reading in front of a log fire, gone for a long walk, seen an exhibition, revelled in my duvet or watched a film in the morning? No. I have been irritatingly sensible and have spent my time clearing a backlog of admin: buying advance train tickets for an Easter weekend jaunt, reading up on my new employers and trying and failing to purchase an advance Oyster travelcard update online. However, thankfully I have not been entirely practical and am pleased to announce that over the course of the last few minutes I have revelled in my last weekday mid-afternoon snooze for the foreseeable future. My next post will be as an employee. Brings tears to my eyes.
Monday, 5 March 2007
Time Off: The Real Story
I was offered my new job on Friday 23rd February and was given to understand that, subject to a few forms being filled in and a few references being checked, I would start about 10 days later on Monday, the 5th March.
It is now Monday, the 5th March and I am not at work. As is always the case in these matters, things are never as simple as they should be - my contract was delayed and my frenetic employment history means that the necessary checks will probably take longer than expected. Towards the end of last week it was clear that I would not be starting for a little longer - probably not until Monday, the 12th March.
I am, therefore, in an odd hiatus period, where I am 99% employed, with nothing to do for a week. With the spectre of full-time employment looming large on the horizon, I should be blowing on the dying embers of my freedom, desperate to warm myself from their final seconds of existence. But to my surprise, I have lost the energy to lead a fulfilling life and am, flatly, bored out of my mind. I would far rather be working than sitting here for another nanosecond. Sure - London is oozing with things I should be doing to expand my mind or awaken my deadened senses: there are exhibitions to take in, films to see, lectures to attend - but I have neither the will nor the funds, nor even the feintest desire to leave the comfort of my reclining armchair and footstool arrangement.
I am just as aware as the next person that, come next week or next month, I will look back on these blank hours and barren days with putrid envy, spitting with rage at my own lethargy and horrified that I didn't spend my job-free time more fruitfully. But for now, the evidence is plain for all to see: I am here, at home, with no plans and no energy, and I see little likelihood of this situation altering until I'm allowed to start my job. It's all deeply unflattering and I do wonder why I'm choosing to advertise this disgusting torpor to the online community - it's almost certainly something to do with the fact that this is one activity I can carry out while remaining almost entirely inert.
It is now Monday, the 5th March and I am not at work. As is always the case in these matters, things are never as simple as they should be - my contract was delayed and my frenetic employment history means that the necessary checks will probably take longer than expected. Towards the end of last week it was clear that I would not be starting for a little longer - probably not until Monday, the 12th March.
I am, therefore, in an odd hiatus period, where I am 99% employed, with nothing to do for a week. With the spectre of full-time employment looming large on the horizon, I should be blowing on the dying embers of my freedom, desperate to warm myself from their final seconds of existence. But to my surprise, I have lost the energy to lead a fulfilling life and am, flatly, bored out of my mind. I would far rather be working than sitting here for another nanosecond. Sure - London is oozing with things I should be doing to expand my mind or awaken my deadened senses: there are exhibitions to take in, films to see, lectures to attend - but I have neither the will nor the funds, nor even the feintest desire to leave the comfort of my reclining armchair and footstool arrangement.
I am just as aware as the next person that, come next week or next month, I will look back on these blank hours and barren days with putrid envy, spitting with rage at my own lethargy and horrified that I didn't spend my job-free time more fruitfully. But for now, the evidence is plain for all to see: I am here, at home, with no plans and no energy, and I see little likelihood of this situation altering until I'm allowed to start my job. It's all deeply unflattering and I do wonder why I'm choosing to advertise this disgusting torpor to the online community - it's almost certainly something to do with the fact that this is one activity I can carry out while remaining almost entirely inert.
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