Working Hard, Or Hardly Working?
Yes, I'm still busy at work.
Which is why I'm within a hair-trigger of walking into the boss's office, screaming "I QUIT!", and storming out.
As you may know, I'm employed on a permanent part time basis. But lately, I've been working full time hours. I'm on a salary, so I don't get any overtime. What is supposed to happen, is that I get days off work in lieu. But everytime I try to take a day off, I get phoned at 7:30am and told "We really need you into work!" so I go.
You may ask why the company doesn't employ me as an official full time employee. Well that's because our parent company is about to be fully privatised (you've figured out where I work, haven't you?) and there's a hiring freeze. Actually, several people in our office have been made redundant, and I'm now employed part-time to do the job that two full time employees used to do.
Anyway. You can understand that I'm poor, and I'm bitter; I am sick of working so hard, and ending up financially little better off than I would be on unemployment. I'm normally a pretty timid person, happy to work extra without complaining, but this is really reaching "last straw" status. I'm contemplating going back to uni (though can I live on student money at my age? Anyway, everyone hates mature-age students, I know I did when I was 20) and wondering whether I should just have a summer of leisure in the meantime. Lord knows, Xander would be happy. He's never grown out of being upset when I leave in the mornings - and he's nearly three now, hard as that is to believe (those of you who've been following the blog from its early days will remember when he was a tiny little kitten!). He sees me taking my keys off the key rack and putting my coat on, so he knows I'm about to go; some mornings he wraps himself around my ankles, sometimes he blocks the front door with his body, sometimes he just wails pathetically, but his message is the same "Mum, the office can go hang. You should stay here." And he is right.
Because this is ridiculous.
That's my rant done with!
Which is why I'm within a hair-trigger of walking into the boss's office, screaming "I QUIT!", and storming out.
As you may know, I'm employed on a permanent part time basis. But lately, I've been working full time hours. I'm on a salary, so I don't get any overtime. What is supposed to happen, is that I get days off work in lieu. But everytime I try to take a day off, I get phoned at 7:30am and told "We really need you into work!" so I go.
You may ask why the company doesn't employ me as an official full time employee. Well that's because our parent company is about to be fully privatised (you've figured out where I work, haven't you?) and there's a hiring freeze. Actually, several people in our office have been made redundant, and I'm now employed part-time to do the job that two full time employees used to do.
Anyway. You can understand that I'm poor, and I'm bitter; I am sick of working so hard, and ending up financially little better off than I would be on unemployment. I'm normally a pretty timid person, happy to work extra without complaining, but this is really reaching "last straw" status. I'm contemplating going back to uni (though can I live on student money at my age? Anyway, everyone hates mature-age students, I know I did when I was 20) and wondering whether I should just have a summer of leisure in the meantime. Lord knows, Xander would be happy. He's never grown out of being upset when I leave in the mornings - and he's nearly three now, hard as that is to believe (those of you who've been following the blog from its early days will remember when he was a tiny little kitten!). He sees me taking my keys off the key rack and putting my coat on, so he knows I'm about to go; some mornings he wraps himself around my ankles, sometimes he blocks the front door with his body, sometimes he just wails pathetically, but his message is the same "Mum, the office can go hang. You should stay here." And he is right.
Because this is ridiculous.
That's my rant done with!
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