"Your job's quite exciting!" said Mr. B. looking up and casting an eye over the huge hole in his gable wall. For a moment I looked at him dumbfounded, "Well that's certainly a novel take on things" I replied.
There's a generally accepted rule that everybody in employment secretly harbours a desire for an entirely different career. The Pharmacist that wanted to be a farmer, the Engineer that wanted to be an Airline pilot etc etc.
Mr B. had been a Headteacher, not a vocation I can say has ever really appealed and an increasingly unappealing career choice to everyone else, hence the crisis in education. As the exception that proves the rule I seem to lack that inner calling for an alternative profession or in fact any known type of work.
The second day back is worse than the first. The first at least had an aspect of novelty. From the vantage of the second, holes in walls etc stretch ahead to the horizon, like the converging of parallel railway lines,
By the third day I hope to have regained the more or less normal level of self-deception which is so vital in preserving mental health.
2 comments:
Yeah, work sucks. Even if you like your job, there's no way that it stacks up against holidays. Anyone who tells you they love work more than holidays ... well, need I go on?
I think you like making holes in bedroom walls.
Post a Comment