Well, here I am, sitting in a nice victorian house that has been converted to a flat.
It's in a nice area called Mapperley.
I'm ten minutes walk into the city and 5 minutes into the countryside, so it's ideal.
At the time of writing I am unemployed, but I am still looking for work.
I have just finished a temporary contract in Castle Donnington, that was just a little job to bridge the gap from Liverchester to here.
In the meantime I have tried a few jobs here, they have been terrible.
I have to be honest, some of them have brought me to tears, they depress me, make me feel like a real fuck up.
I went to one place, it was a shithole, an ink factory. you needed 5 sets of clothes to get through the week because the ink would seep into your clothes, and if you're weren't careful they would stain your car seat. So you clothes and your car would be ruined.
The hours were 6-2, or 2-10. But you only got a break when you had enough time between jobs, and as far as I could see, you rarely got a break. I bought a sandwich from the 'COB' van at nine o clock and I didn't eat it until two o clock, that's how busy it was. I'm sure that's illegal, and I certainly didn't fancy that every day. You also had the usual team leader types there too, young lads who were bullied at school trying to make a name for themselves in the world of work.
God I hate that, all they do is shout and talk to people like shit.
Production,production, faster, faster, let's get these products out fast. I've heard this all my life, and I'm sick of it, it's not fulfilling, I think that's what's lacking, I only do it for money, but it's starting to grind me down.
There were some guys who had been in the ink factory for over thirteen years,I asked 'WHY?' I told them they had a choice, they can leave, why settle for this? This shit job with the shit environment and shit pay and relentless hours, no time to eat, shit or talk, just got a twenty three year old foreman chasing your arse all day, who needs that? I was doing these dead end jobs before that arsehole was born, and it meant nothing to me then.
Sounds like I have a bad work attitude, but this doesnt feel like work, this feels like hell, so this is my hell attitude.
I tried another job via the agency, it was in a place called Heanor near Derby.
It was a place that assembled trollies, I called it terrible trollies. It was awful.
It was a relentless slog. There were trollies, full of trolly parts, myself and two other poor souls grabbed the trolly parts and separated them into other trollies, these trollies were given to the assemblers who would assemble the trolly parts into more trollies, then they pushed them out of the door onto a wagon, as they passed we would grab some more trollies, to put more trolly parts in.....and repeat the process over and over.
But it was tiring, many people had quit before me, and many more would do the same after I quit. I was basically lifting steel over my head all day for eight hours,If that was a choice of your day, would you do it? I guess here none of us had a choice, and you could see that in the faces here. Everyone was pissed off, a place of broken dreams, where fuck ups end up, all of us pissed off, all of us thinking 'shit we really did fuck up in school didnt we!!' The realisation becomes apparent as your'e lifting steel over your head, after an hour it's painful, you want to quit, but you need money.....the trade off is pain.
I quit.
I have however, applied to many more temporay jobs, they ring me constantly so come next week I should have something, and this time I really wil have to take anything because I'm getting desperate here.
As always x
No comments:
Post a Comment