I’m stuck in an office job. A bleak office environment full of appraisals and meetings and 1-2-1s and emails and suspended ceilings and air conditioning and office humour and wacky screen savers and desk fans and photocopiers and rolling racks and ringing telephones and vertical blinds and carpet tiles and the never ending seamless cyclical talk about fucking teas and bastard coffees. All accompanied by mindless, soul destroying monotony.
I wasn’t meant to work in such an environment. I’m not feeling sorry for myself as I have a good life, but there’s got to be a way out. Right?
Think about all the people who draw for a living. Artists, technical drawings, court illustrators, anything. Or people who are tree surgeons. Or people who edit films, or work at animal sanctuaries or are MoD field agents, or photograph wild life, or teach diving, or are authors, or musicians or are landscape gardeners or golf instructors, or car designers or computer game reviewers or even computer game designers. All these jobs exist. How the bastard do you get one?
I’m sick of my working days to consist of the ambient whirr of printers, shedders and someone asking someone else if they want a fucking cup of tea forever and ever.