How To… Put Me To Work

Believe it or not, there was someone out there actually certifiably crazy enough (only please don’t tell them, not yet anyway) to give me a job (at least wait until I’m off probation so that it’s somewhat harder for them to fire me). So they clearly know how to put me to work. And then some I would imagine. At the moment it’s all desk files initial training on all manner of things like bunsiness-y social media and call logging and getting to grips with strange new computer systems (you know, just add that to the list of things you’re really not supposed to tell them. I’m totally not struggling. It’s not like I’m even going to tell you who they are anyway. And definitely do not take that as an invitation to deploy your no doubt unparalleled sleuthing skills, classic Sherlock Holmes style).

Long hours, performance targets, not being able to wear fuzzy jumpers all the live long day, it’s all going to be worth it on the day when I finally get that terribly sweet pay cheque they’ve been promising me (because just at the moment, thanks to moving and paying absurd sums of rent along with buying furniture and food and stuff, I am really rather poor. Don’t tell anyone. Are you sensing a theme yet?). When you think about it, it’s all about incentive as opposed to anything much else. I’m hardly going to do anything for anyone if there’s nothing in it for me. Who would spend hours on end of their life putting in immeasurable effort for no discernible reward? On something that only a very small proportion of the world will ever be able to appreciate? Now that would be just utterly nuts. Why on earth would that happen? Don’t say anything (I have an actual job now, I’m allowed to waste time on stuff like this provided it’s during scheduled breaks).

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