It's eighteen years to the day since I started work at my current place of employment.
Some of my friends find that inconceivable, but in that time, I have done a number of completely different jobs in very different businesses, been outsourced, been insourced and been TUPE-d on no fewer than four separate occasions. There and back again, you might say.
I could have moved many times, and no doubt be earning loads more money somewhere else, but the simple truth of the matter is that work just isn't that important to me and I'm not that ambitious. I earn a decent amount and I generally like the people I work with and the work that I do. I feel like I can make a difference in what I do, and I like to do as good a job as I can, but at the end of it all, it is just a job.
What more do you need to know?
In the last couple of years, I've had more fulfilment at work than I have in years. Why? Well, it's because I realised that the only reason I really go to work is because of the people. It's not the money; it's not the work... it's the people. This may not be much of a revelation to most people, but it totally changed the way I think about my job and why I do it. Maybe as a direct result of this realisation, I'm actually happy at work. Eighteen years is a long time, and it took me a good chunk of that to get to where I am now, but I'd say that was worth the trip. I'm thinner, balder, older but better person than the guy I was when I started work in September 1997.
Perhaps I'd be better off jacking it all in and doing something more obviously worthwhile or by writing a novel or something. Maybe I will.
Maybe I'm wasting my talent, but I'm not dead just yet and the only person whose opinion on that really matters is my own. Besides, if I hadn't started work here, I wouldn't have met my wife....
Eighteen years, man and boy. Hardest game in the world.
what did you do in the pandemic, daddy? (3)
9 hours ago