Two Years

Two years – I’m stuck in a hole;
Two years – better off on the dole?;
Two years – it’s killing my brain;
Two years – yet still I remain…

A Laurenesque take on Mr. David Bowie’s Five Years.

 

The last time I saw him, a wise man warned me: “don’t get stuck here”.  He’s far from the only one to have expressed that sentiment, but he was the first.  It has always stayed with me.

Nevertheless, a little over 15 months from that date, and 24 months from the first day, here I still am (stuck?).  It really isn’t the ideal time to contemplate the… stickiness or otherwise of my position, being a time at which nothing is certain and, during which, discussing the uncertainty is getting to be a bigger ball-ache than the uncertainty itself.  Yet it is an anniversary, and for some reason I feel obliged to mark the occasion (for sure as damn it nobody else will) with a little contemplation.

Looking back at last year’s anniversary ramble (was there ever any doubt one would follow this year, so long as the job remained?) I stated at the start that I found it difficult to write, and that this was unusual for me.  Obviously it did not remain as difficult as I went on for 1,600 words about worklife trials and tribulations, and most importantly the triumphs.  This time round it remains difficult, which is again quite baffling given my propensity for lengthy rambles and introspective, retrospective verbosity.  An extract of that which I have just read from yesteryear states;

“Although some days getting out of bed remains a challenge, more often than not I want to, and that’s probably the highest compliment I can pay to my working life as it is.”

And I guess that’s probably the best example of what has changed in the past year.  A lot of mornings, on and off for the past 7 or 8 months now, I have not wanted to get out of bed, I’ve not wanted to face the world of work and the traffic and the inclement weather and the inevitable tedium and mindless chatter and mind-numbing tasks and management and bureaucracy and bullshit…  That sentence sort of got away from me a little there.  It does, however, sum up in one (elongated and ineloquent) sentence what has caused this level of… disenchantment.

Again, I’m returning to this task after the ‘anniversary’ day itself.  Not unusually it has been a strange day; no pomp or circumstance, of course, but lots of reminders of what I hate about the place and what I still like.  The second year has undoubtedly been less enriching than the first – perhaps because it’s no longer novel to be treated like a friend, confidant, equal, servant and secretary all at once; perhaps because it has become a life of autopilot: driving, parking in the same spot as far as possible, talking to the same people, doing the same repetitive tasks and coping with the same challenges from those happy few who in turn treat me as a sounding board and a skivvy; perhaps just because I’m coming to question more and more what exactly I’m in it for.

While I have been sat here, having sipped my way through a shot of posh vodka and about to commence drinking a cup of (probably cold, definitely stewed) tea, I have been “beavering away” on a Job Evaluation form.  The irony astounds.  It’s not actually evaluating my job, which is more what this document is for, but it is evaluating the job I am *meant* to do, in accordance with my (inaccurate) job description and person specification and entails stupid questions about mental demands and how far I walk with a heavy burden (there’s a metaphor in there I’m sure) and which does not entail any meaty or enjoyable aspects such as job fulfilment or job criticism.

At the moment, this ramble doesn’t involve many of those either.  I have criticised, over the preceding 18 months or so, many aspects of “This Place” and the monkeys within it, and I don’t think it would serve me or any member of my extensive audience (cough cough) particularly well to return to past territory, particularly in this less-than-inspired mood.  I will return to the “don’t get stuck here” point a bit later on, but in the name of equity and of trust (legal joke for you there) should reflect, however fleetingly, on the aspects – aspect? – that continue to be favourable.

First and foremost, and quite possibly standing alone, it is my feted colleagues who remain the reason that I bother some days.  ‘Twas ever thus, alas, albeit that the ones I have feted have changed to some radical degree.  Those to whom I look for entertainment, for chirpiness, for good moods and ego boosts, those whom I care about more than I care about the (majority of the) work and without whom I almost definitely would not have lasted this long – they are those that keep me sane.  I’ve written and spoken before, undoubtedly at length, about the phenomenon of people liking my company and appreciating my efforts and “talents” (not my choice of word, by a long chalk) and therefore I do not intend to dwell on that; to flatter anyone’s ego or to blow my own trumpet.  I do intend to make plain that there have been many occasions upon which I have considered a change of scene, or looking outside the box and ditching this career “plan” or spreading my battered and beaten wings, but have been dragged back from the brink by reminders – active or pensive – of how good I do currently have it.  And I have it good to a large extent because of the good that can be found there.  It seems churlish to complain about the tedium of work and the forces of evil and stupidity beyond my control or influence, when after all I do have a job and that it is in the sphere in which I (currently) want to work; but, despite all this, what strikes me the most is how lucky I have been to have found people I can connect with, talk to, befriend… and from whom I have undoubtedly learned an awful lot.  However much longer this venture lasts, through my own design or through fates conspiring, I can take away from it some self improvement, self belief and selflessness.

There are undoubtedly developments in my character and personality that are negative and that I – and those around me – would be better off without.  For example, an already strong grasp of cynicism and an intense pedantry have been hardened (and worsened?) through the past two years’ events.  A revolutionary streak, so dangerous in this world of compliance and yes-saying, has been rekindled and fostered and my patience and tolerance for ‘idiots’ has been tested to the limit, to the point of almost subsiding.  However, in this world of troubles, the benefits pull me through.  I read somewhere that it is “the people that make the places”, a very long time ago, and never being much of a people person I never thought they could affect me that much.  Working life has disproved that theory umpteen times over.  For better and for worse.  Whilst I acknowledge now much more readily that people, or a person, can ruin a place, an event, a feeling, more importantly I realise to what extent they can enhance the same.  There are about a dozen people, at a generous estimate, who, when the chips are down, make the place better.  There are about half a dozen, again being generous, who I sincerely believe make me better.  Therein lies the second huge “pro” of the past two years.   They certainly make my life better.  Through enlightenment, encouragement and entertainment; through camaraderie, comedy and compassion; through flattery, friendliness and facetiousness; dedication, diligence and determination; intelligence, inspiration and idealism; anecdotes, Aspirin and… alliteration!: all these qualities and more (I could list until the cows come home, believe me) mean that, even on the dullest days, with the worst of atmospheres and at the height of frustration, there’s redemption to be found.

Ironic, then, that this beacon of saving grace through the fog and downpour could well be my downfall.  The problem is that I am in serious danger of getting “stuck” where it is comfortable and where I can become complacent.  At the moment it is predominantly fear of the unknown and avoidance of a challenge too great that keeps me where I am.  Realistically it would be unwise to fly the local government nest just yet, just as it is inadvisable to flee the family coop, when I am facing – unsuccessfully – such challenges elsewhere, in academia.  There will come a point, though, if I am spared this current nonsense, when I have to make that call.  It is increasingly unlikely I will get where I want (Need? Deserve?) to be by getting my head down here and keeping my powder dry.  Once upon a time it may have been a sensible approach, a failsafe method and a preferred choice.  Now, I don’t know that I want it, never mind that I’ll ever get it.  I need to pay heed to Bob’s message, and to take to heart my colleagues’ advice and, come May, seriously consider my options.  Stagnation is a very real possibility and a terrifying prospect and by the end of year three I cannot be in the same position.

Notwithstanding that, I can only reiterate that which I have already disclosed; that my life has been enriched with the benefit of the past two years.  In terms of my CV, prospects, finances, education and worth as a person, these 730 days have served me better than any previous and, bureaucratic bullshit and potential of permanence apart, my unerring appreciation, at least, is stuck.

 

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~ by Lauren on January 19, 2011.