Matt's job log: 15

The party's over

The turntable spun surely to a slow death, disconnected from the socket on the wall, the needle scratching its last as Primal Scream blared out in ever decreasing octaves. An exhausted mass of ass shakers slunk silently from the dance floor, the party spirit drifting from their wrecked frames upward to mix with the sweat rain collecting on the ceiling. It started to drip down. Beautiful.

‘You were amazing man, amazing!’

‘Cheers mate, you pick up a cd?’

‘Yeah, yeah. Got one. That Frankie Knuckles track man. Jesus. I mean, JESUS!”

A look tainted with both bewilderment and terror flashed across the fashionable DJ’s fashionably bearded face as the sweaty and excitable mess leaned in for a hug. They embraced.

‘I wish you were my dad.’

Yeah that was me. The hugger rather than the huggee. The sweaty half-cut mess. Quite embarrassing I suppose, but then I’ve done much worse in the past. And in all honesty it was an awesome night. I’ve had a number of those recently, but that’s not really a good thing.

 

I’ve pretty much been living for the weekend for the past few weeks. Not a situation I ever wanted to be in and one which I know has to change. For the moment it seems my brain has crumbled, giving in to the utter, grinding, relentless boredom of the nine to five. My most important goal at the minute is making it to Saturday; when a bit of booze and a lot of dancing will briefly alleviate the gloom while Monday morning hurtles at me like a doomed airliner.

New job, old problem

After the brief nervous breakdown that was my last post I’ve changed work placements. A lot of huffing, complaining and head banging went a long way and within a week I was gone. But it seemed like I jumped straight from the frying pan into…well…not quite the fire because there’s no way on earth it’s that exciting, but it’s not good anyway.

And so day in day out for the past three weeks I’ve been sat on a reception desk answering phone calls I can’t answer, filling in forms I don’t understand and generally coming to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe I should have upped and left completely. There’s only so much local radio I can listen to and conversations about the X-factor that I can take. Each and every one of the jobs I’ve taken in the past 12 months has neither stimulated me or improved my prospects. Plus they’ve given me very little time to actually look for something I want to do. Maybe I need the absolute kick up the arse of having no job to motivate me to find one I actually enjoy.

Flawed logic? Maybe.

A sensible plan? Probably not; but I’m beginning to seriously think I need the safety net of full time work yanked from under me. 

So, Matt’s new and improved, grand sparkly plan is this. Go part time to reduce the mind crushing, de-motivating boredom. Devote the rest of my ‘working’ days to looking for a real job. When I get spare time I can put some research into scholarships for PhDs and get on with the writing work I’ve got. The part-time work will cover my bills with a tiny, tiny bit to spare (I’ve done the maths) and the articles I’ve got lined up will cover fun stuff for a little while (hopefully).

And there you go. Another post, another plan. I’ll probably change my mind as soon as I fire this off into internet heaven. But if not, let’s hope I’m not drinking special brew in a few weeks' time.

Read Matt's previous job logs. 

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