The life of a professional in 2009 is tough. There is a shrinking economy putting jobs at risk and an ever growing number of higher education graduates emerging from the university womb ready to steal your job eager as beavers. The pressure to be perfectly turned out and to thrust oneself into the working day with the enthusiasm of a child at Christmas tearing into presents has never been so great. It is paramount that the succesful professional exeed targets, arrive early, leave late, innovate the generation of new revenues and skip lunch.
How then does one cope with the diminishing returns, growing work loads, increased expectations carefully balanced against the cessation of chocolate rations and job loss whilst fitting in a vibrant social life and general pressing life administration issues such as gas bills, short haul holidays, relentless drinking and 'girlfriend time'?
Well, i'll tell you:
Last night (sunday), i strolled to my local Tesco in search of a few bits and pieces with which to negotiate a succesful dinner, perhaps a glass of wine and a film before hitting the hay allowing for a comfortable 8 hour sleep pre the working week.
Unfortunately the Tesco extra in question only has room for a limited choice in stock. Missing are loose vegetables, all vegetarian protein options save for Quorn Sausages, they have no cheddar, no beans, no pasta, in fact the missing list is endless. They will however always have in stock, Chippati flour, pot noodles and heat magazine.
In the face of such odds and to negate the demoralising effects of trawling through the proverbial wellington boot in a fishing net that consituted my options, i bought a bottle of wine and 8 cans of lager.
On the journey home i saw a local tramp sitting looking dejected with his head in his hands. Presumably he had taken his last £2 into tesco to buy cider and returned with a bag of Chippati flour instead.
So, to wind down my Sunday and prepare for the week, i put on an episode of the frankly fantastic 'Band of Brothers' and opened the wine. 6 episodes, 1 bottle of wine and 5 cans of lager later...otherwise known as 2:30am, i crawled into bed.
The morning alarm hit me like a mallet in the face. Standing in the shower using my shoulder to prop myself up the moment to get out and get ready arrived when my knees buckled as i fell back to sleep standing up.
Having forgotten to dry clean my only suit, which incidentally is actually a dark blue blazer and a pair of dark blue trousers that do not match and were purchased seperately, i was forced to rumage through a dusty bag to find a worn old pair of brown work like trousers i used to wear in part time jobs.
Running an iron over the scrumpled heap that consitutes my now off white shirt, i glanced in the mirror to decide upon how necessary a shave was. Was it necessary? Very. Did i do it? No.
Once in the office of course a staunch professional facade is vital to overcome the undoubted look of horror on the face of the office manager when he casts his eyes over my lacklustre appearance. ....(I look like i have been shot with a stun gun but concluded that work is more important than my health).
Unfortunately one of the office conversations is weaving its inexorable path toward idiocy within earshot.
Office idiot: 'Oh i love spandau ballet, you know, Goooold and True, so good'.
Other office idiot: 'Is that Ross Kemp?'
Office idiot: 'No Martin Kemp'
Other office idiot: 'What else have the written?'
Office idiot (who LOVES Spandau Ballet): 'Oh those are the only two i know'
Thereafter follows 20 minutes of singing these two songs untunefully to attempt to illustrate who she is talking about.
This saps my enthusiasm, so i have a cup of tea to help mask the smell of alchohol, google 'giant rats' discovering that a man in china has caught a rat the size of a cat: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/asia/china/4688453/Giant-rat-caught-in-China.html and then write this load of twaddle to help waste some time before lunch.
Luckily i have 3 meaningless phone calls lined up to make after lunch and a host of points of interest to explore on Wikipedia.
Those graduates don't have a chance.
How then does one cope with the diminishing returns, growing work loads, increased expectations carefully balanced against the cessation of chocolate rations and job loss whilst fitting in a vibrant social life and general pressing life administration issues such as gas bills, short haul holidays, relentless drinking and 'girlfriend time'?
Well, i'll tell you:
Last night (sunday), i strolled to my local Tesco in search of a few bits and pieces with which to negotiate a succesful dinner, perhaps a glass of wine and a film before hitting the hay allowing for a comfortable 8 hour sleep pre the working week.
Unfortunately the Tesco extra in question only has room for a limited choice in stock. Missing are loose vegetables, all vegetarian protein options save for Quorn Sausages, they have no cheddar, no beans, no pasta, in fact the missing list is endless. They will however always have in stock, Chippati flour, pot noodles and heat magazine.
In the face of such odds and to negate the demoralising effects of trawling through the proverbial wellington boot in a fishing net that consituted my options, i bought a bottle of wine and 8 cans of lager.
On the journey home i saw a local tramp sitting looking dejected with his head in his hands. Presumably he had taken his last £2 into tesco to buy cider and returned with a bag of Chippati flour instead.
So, to wind down my Sunday and prepare for the week, i put on an episode of the frankly fantastic 'Band of Brothers' and opened the wine. 6 episodes, 1 bottle of wine and 5 cans of lager later...otherwise known as 2:30am, i crawled into bed.
The morning alarm hit me like a mallet in the face. Standing in the shower using my shoulder to prop myself up the moment to get out and get ready arrived when my knees buckled as i fell back to sleep standing up.
Having forgotten to dry clean my only suit, which incidentally is actually a dark blue blazer and a pair of dark blue trousers that do not match and were purchased seperately, i was forced to rumage through a dusty bag to find a worn old pair of brown work like trousers i used to wear in part time jobs.
Running an iron over the scrumpled heap that consitutes my now off white shirt, i glanced in the mirror to decide upon how necessary a shave was. Was it necessary? Very. Did i do it? No.
Once in the office of course a staunch professional facade is vital to overcome the undoubted look of horror on the face of the office manager when he casts his eyes over my lacklustre appearance. ....(I look like i have been shot with a stun gun but concluded that work is more important than my health).
Unfortunately one of the office conversations is weaving its inexorable path toward idiocy within earshot.
Office idiot: 'Oh i love spandau ballet, you know, Goooold and True, so good'.
Other office idiot: 'Is that Ross Kemp?'
Office idiot: 'No Martin Kemp'
Other office idiot: 'What else have the written?'
Office idiot (who LOVES Spandau Ballet): 'Oh those are the only two i know'
Thereafter follows 20 minutes of singing these two songs untunefully to attempt to illustrate who she is talking about.
This saps my enthusiasm, so i have a cup of tea to help mask the smell of alchohol, google 'giant rats' discovering that a man in china has caught a rat the size of a cat: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/asia/china/4688453/Giant-rat-caught-in-China.html and then write this load of twaddle to help waste some time before lunch.
Luckily i have 3 meaningless phone calls lined up to make after lunch and a host of points of interest to explore on Wikipedia.
Those graduates don't have a chance.
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