It's no big secret to any of my friends that at least half the time, I really hate my job. I don't just mean hate in the descriptive sense; I mean hate in the sense that sometimes it permeates every ounce of my being. The company itself is great and I couldn't ask for better folks supervising me. I really couldn't ask for much more; but I really hate the job some days. Part of the problem is that I'm pretty good at what I do and that is a shame. But a company can't keep losing people and loading on the products and services that the remaining employees must support. And on top of that, the number of customers increases at a healthy rate. So with fewer people, more customers, and more products to support, it's easy to see how morale can plummet. I can't help but think how much better I would perform at a job I really loved.
I can honestly say I've had some decent jobs. I loved the work I did in the Army. I worked in military intelligence with imagery. I really liked my work; I just hated the bullshit and politics of the Army. I wrote up reports about what was going on in certain parts of the world that were disseminated to other agencies. It was like I was doing something really important. I enjoyed it so much so that I often stayed late to keep working despite the fact that my shift was over and the next group of analysts were already on the job. I'd just find some other project to work on and keep going. The other job I enjoyed was in the liquor store back in Albuquerque. Imagine being in a fraternity and getting paid some decent bucks to work at a liquor store. Sure, there were parts of it I didn't like. I hated when guys would send their girlfriends to get a keg of beer. Not only would I have to load it, but the girls would often want it on the back seat of a Cavalier or some other compact car. I would always think to myself, "How lazy a sack of shit is this guy that he's sending his g/f to pick up a keg for him and his buddies?" But, I got a great discount on my booze, a casual dress code, some decent money, and I was expected to sample the products (the philosophy was "How can you make an informed opinion about a beer or a liquor if you don't know what it tastes like?").
Which brings me to events on Friday. After another week of work, I got home and I received my package from the Teacher Training Agency in the UK. Yep, the Devil is looking at becoming a teacher in the UK. The package consisted of nothing more than some brochures. However, they've informed me of the next steps I need to take. Right now, it's just so distant of a plan that I'm not trying to get my hopes up. I would need to save some bucks to survive on and of course, there is the ever present visa problems. However, I'm sure I'd have no trouble getting situated with a school and beginning training. It seems crazy but I think I'd be so much happier working with kids and molding young minds. Life is just too short to be miserable for 40 hours a week.