Tuesday 16th August

I’ve had to get me a day-job.

I start on Monday and will be responsible for; I want to say invoices, but was reading a rather shocking article on my laptop about Madonna doing a bloke half her age, while the lady from the agency was talking so I might, possibly, have missed that bit.

I have to be honest here; I’m not so much ‘with’ the whole working thing.

This is partly because I resent how much it eats into my day and my social life, but also because I get really uppity when people start trying to tell me what to do.

Furthermore, I have never been able to fathom out why my colleagues take the whole thing so seriously. I have never, you understand, been offered a job in the ‘Development-Of-The-Cure-For-Cancer’ department nor has the ‘Thinking-Up-Super-Important-Ideas-To-Protect-The-Country-Company’ ever called me up and asked for my input.

Nope, I have always been employed in some crappy little admin office, surrounded by a load of wannabe ‘Bizznus-People’ who seem to be under the impression that their job role as ‘Manager-In-Charge-Of-Moving-Bits-Of-Paper-From-One-Place-To-Another-Place’ has put them squarely on the career fast-track, straight into the position of Secretary-General of the UN.

I don’t want it to sound as though I think all of the people that I have encountered in offices are complete tossers, but I do, so I guess, maybe, that’s how it’s coming across.

I tend to spend my time checking my horoscope and scribbling cartoons on my notepad. I day-dream a lot, plan what I’m going to have for lunch, do my household budget, and do Google image searches on all of my friends.

I lose stuff, turn up late, forget to clock in/out, never know where my P45 is and never, ever remember to store spread sheets and documents in the shared drive but set up my own obscure, random and completely indecipherable filing system. The confusion and frustration that this causes to my co-workers is further compounded by the fact that I am prone to cheerfully ‘locking’ my PC before I disappear off for half an hour or so on one of my ‘walks.’

Then there are my many cigarette breaks and the fact that, when I do finally sit down at my desk, I then leap back up again to get everyone in the office a cup of coffee.

At this point in my life however, I’ll do almost anything to get away from these bloody kids arguing about brother-germs and sister-spit, and it is true that having some ‘walking-around-flash-money’ would be pretty real.

Being a writer is a poorly paid occupation, and since my plan to win the lottery and retire to a land of honey-bees and chickens has yet to come to fruition, I guess I’ll just have to suck it up.

For now.

She added darkly.