This morning I faced a vocational dilemma, answer the ringing phone sitting next to me and listen to the woes of some unfortunate soul who has had their attempts at working molested by something going pear-shaped on their PC, or take another bite of my pumpkin scone.
Thankfully the impasse was resolved by my workmate being so starved for activity that he picked up his phone and belted in the dial code to answer my phone from his desk, but the situation illustrates quite well the quandary I’ve been facing with work in general. A pumpkin scone interests me ten-fold more than any particular aspect of my job. I’m convinced that I don’t want to work in IT anymore, it’s never really floated my boat all that much. I’ve tried doing several different jobs in the field and had exposure to a dozen more, and I’ve never been struck by the thought “Hey, I wouldn’t mind doing this.”, it’s always been a means to an end and the end has only ever been getting the proverbial ching-ching for my bling-bling.
As hedonistically rewarding as fat wads of cash can be (or not so fat as the case may have been of late), working for the wage just doesn’t seem to give me any kind of stimulation or gratification. I noticed in a remarkably surreal moment late last week in that I was doing technical support on auto-pilot. I was thinking about some fleeting idea or other (most likely considering something of no material use whatsoever, as is the status quo) when I realised that I was talking, then that I was actually talking someone through configuring their mail account. The whole incident was kind of creepy, but highlights the lack of stimulation I’m actually getting sitting here.
Thing is, if I take off to study something else, I’ll be down a lot of income, the kind of income that I could use to do some hella fun things and buy mighty shiny toys. But as much fun as they’d be, I don’t know if I can drag myself through a job I’m not enjoying and not learning anything from just to satisfy my hedonist urges. Of course I have to keep it up long enough to fill in the financial hole I’ve dug for myself by turning motorbikes into sushi and my skeletal system into swiss cheese, but the end of my current contract conveniently lobs around sometime in December, so who knows.
On a perkier note, my baby is back home in the garage where she belongs. I’ve already procured myself a schmick new helmet and the moment the jacket and gloves I have on order get in, I’m going to be tearing around the streets on two wheels again. I’m gettin’ all fuzzy just thinking about it.