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Thursday, October 20, 2005

Life Will Be The Death of Me

Another week at work, the more it begins to resemble an aircraft departure lounge. It hit hard when Shaz and Damo left, not only losing good friends but that vital office escape chat - necessary for survival in the bean counter's jungle. One thing at least to enjoy in a long working day. Well now, Emma's leaving. Not a best buddy by any stretch, but one of those friendly faces that remind me that it is still the same firm I joined five years ago. Back then, or more specifically just before I started, I had a stereotypical vision of the types of people who work in an accountants, and while there are certainly folk who fit that bill, I was pleasantly surprised. One by one, all these have left, to be replaced by newer less interesting people. Career wankers mostly.

I really feel like leaving. I've said it a few times before, who hasn't after a bad day or an awkward week. The difference this time is I've not been able to shake it off this time. For two or three months now, nothing has changed my mind. Although I obviously wouldn't turn down a payrise, I wouldn't commit myself by taking on at this stage. After Christmas in the last year at Uni, I was struck with an odd feeling of melancholic resignation. Even though I should've been, and most often still was having a good time, it was never great because I could never escape the fact that these were the last days of the adventure. The light was in sight. I think I can see it again. Remember the last week of the summer holidays when you were a nipper. Six weeks ago it'd seem like was going to last forever, but it was impossible to shake off the thought of impending school in that last week. Impossible to get out of the way of the juggernaut of change rapidly approaching through the low sunlight.

Added to this is my junior. I'm struggling. Really struggling. My patience is wearing thinner than Wellington Job Centre's carpet. My previously under-employed stress ball (formerly a makeshift cricket ball) now has teeth marks in it. I reckon I could teach my cat chess in the time it takes something to get through. I'm not being an intellectual snob (I'm only that with films), but if I have a say on the next junior I'm going to nominate a brick wall, I think it might be a faster learner. And make more cups of tea.

Ahh fuck it, I'm playing Mario Golf.

Stav.

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