Saturday 12 January 2013

Bleak - Written 21.10.12



It is the bleakest of things.  It is not, in and of itself, a bad thing.  In fact, in the current job market, being in work is not a bad thing.  I’d hate to appear ungrateful.  I have been on the dole; I know how bad things can be.  However, at some point in the day, one simply begins to wonder if an axe murder, taking a swing at the back of your head would actually be such a bad thing. 

Why?  Yes, a perfectly valid question; what on this earth could make a mad man with an axe seem more appealing than continued existence?  I won’t deny it to be a rather extreme or drama-queenish solution to the problem.  The system is running slow.

Anyone who doesn’t understand how I might be feeling, just goes to show you’ve never worked in an office.   Most people in the world at some point or another have waited for public transport.  With that in mind, imagine your train is late.  You’ve heard you automated station announcer bint declare that your train is running twenty-seven minutes late (At least with their terrible time keeping, Northern Rail can offer you some comfort in the exact timing of the arrival of said train...) and you have decided to twiddle your thumbs, buy a coffee, update Facebook, read Twitter, take a picture of litter and call it art via Instagram and you’re still only three minutes closer to the arrival of the train.   
                Some time, around twenty six minutes later, you see the lights of your train approaching.  It pulls up, you board, take a seat and relax slightly as you realise that all will be well, now you’re cooped out with a bunch of strangers  and surrender yourself to the hands of good old Bernard, bumbling at the controls, to take you on your merry way.
                Then imagine some gypo has stolen the copper from the signal communicators, meaning all traffic on the lines has come to a standstill.  Over the course of an hour, and releasing an intricate network of homing pigeons, it has been established that you are safe to move on a little further down the track.  As no one is communicating with you, your face cracks into a smile as you dare to hope that you’re getting closer to your destination, before coming to an abrupt halt at the next set of traffic signals.
                By the time you get off the train, its cold, it’s raining; you’re hungry and have no coat.  You have a half an hour walk home, and arrive through the door to discover your electricity has tripped out due to the torrential down pour.
                When the computer system you use to do every element and aspect of your job is running slow, that is what your day feels like.

Worse than all of that, not only is this going to be one bad day likened to public-transport-hell, every day is like this for the foreseeable future.  The faceless drones in IT have promised you an upgrade before the end of the year.  They weren’t specific about which year so you try not to be optimistic.  And as the days rumble on wards through October towards Christmas, somehow the whole of your life seems to be passing you by at break-neck speed, almost as though you’re in a bubble of go-slow, while the rest of the party are popping E’s and dancing like idiots around you.  Like the rest of your life, whizzing along like there is no tomorrow, the pile of work at the edge of your desk is growing at an unfathomable rate.  Moments like this reveal to you just how much you do, or don’t do, in a day. 

And despite the fact there is nothing you can do, somehow, you don’t feel any better.  It’s not like the moment depicted in cinema; the plane is crashing, there is nothing you can do, and you calmly surrender your free will to the void and exhale, to be engulfed by a ball of flame.  Instead, you’re getting wound up, gagging for a brew, constantly needing a wee, and counting the moments until you can escape your confines .

To pass the time, you find yourself sliding across from your desk to the printer and back like a child, just to liven things up a bit.  Perhaps whilst you do this, you might sing “Basket Case” by Green Day.  You might find yourself typing in strange and peculiar ways.   Both the above could have something to do with the eight cups of coffee you’ve consumed to pass the time.  This also explains the heartburn and almost constant need to pee.

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