Ah, Sunday - a day that used to be relaxing, but now only calculates in my head as the day before Monday. It reigns as the last day of freedom from insanity and the constant longing to leap into a car and just drive.. drive.. and keep on driving. Until I reach Picton, where I'd have to take a ferry, which makes me think that taking a plane would be an easier option - and possibly cheaper considering the rise in the price of fuel. Then I start thinking.. which option would I propose to a client. Car, or plane - or campervan. And what could I do to make their trip really memorable once they'd taken the ferry? Kapiti Island, perhaps, or a short stop in the Marlborough Sounds if they were heading South.
Then I realise, if I'm analysing escape like this - there's a slight possibility that I have become the job, despite my struggles against this very thing.
I've been doing this job for about a year now, and I must admit I thought it was absolutely brilliant when I began. Everybody thinks their first job straight out of university is great - until they strike a downbeat colleague or a bossy boss, or a client they just can't handle.. or they become the job. To be fair, my bosses are brilliant and most of the clients are ok at least - but when I began I wasn't so lucky with my colleague, and now it seems I've become the job. This is where my Sunday Fear comes in.
Sunday Fear is my name for the feeling you get towards the end of Sunday afternoon - the one that has you saying 'I just can't bear going back to work tomorrow.' - and I generally like my work, so I found myself analysing why I just couldn't hack it.. then I realised it stemmed from my original fear of walking in the door and finding my old colleague 'A' sitting at his desk and looking (as ever) like he was going to axe murder his computer.. and then me.
It's the fear that my job would overtake my life and I would find myself still at the office at six o'clock (only half an hour after close, but still overtime I'm probably not going to be paid for), still treating a client because well.. it's my job. Because it's what I do, and what I seem to be good at.
It's the fear of having to finally admit that I am no longer myself.
In a bizarre twist of fate - I am Travel Agent.
2 comments:
That nagging fear in the back of your mind. I am familiar with this, although I don't work full time. I know of the Sunday Fear and of losing your 'self', only to have it replaced with your work.
That's why I'm getting a motorbike. To ride away.
Want me to book that for you? lol :p
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