I’m working from home today. Not something I have the chance to do very often, probably with good reason. You see, I’m inherently lazy, when it comes to my job at least. It’s not that I don’t enjoy it. Most of the time I do. It’s a nice company (or was until we were bought over), the people are (mostly) nice. (I’ll not talk about the colleague with the cats or Annoying Voice Man yet. They can have a whole blog to themselves, one day. I know, you just *can’t* wait, can you?)
Anyway, back to WFH, or procrastinating from home as it shall now be known. I have the obligatory cup of tea and I’m wearing my PJs. That’s how you’re supposed to do it, right? In reality, my jeans were soaked from the walk to drop Nugget at school, and PJs were the easiest thing to put on while they dry, but I’ve never been one to shirk an obvious stereotype. I have stuff to do. I brought a folder of stuff specifically to do, knowing that I would have to make myself do it. It’s nearly 10 am and I haven’t even taken the folder out of the bag. Don’t get me wrong, I have answered emails, I’ve done some work on the weekly spread sheet, but the items on my to-do list remain un-ticked.
I’m trying to figure out why I have such little motivation when I’m not in danger of the boss walking past and seeing me doing nothing. I think the answer is that it really and truly doesn’t matter one jot to pretty much every other human being on this earth if I don’t do it. I’m a one-person department in a company who has no actual idea what I do or how I do it. Sure, if the end results of my work stopped happening, they’d soon want to know, but the hows and whys and wherefores are irrelevant. Or they were, until we were taken over. Now I’m having to fit in with rules and regulations of a much bigger company and abide by their ways of doing things when they have absolutely no bearing on how they were done before or how or my company needs them to be done.
Are you still with me? This wasn’t supposed to be a rant about my job. I really and truly don’t hate it. Yet.
I was thinking about all the different courses my work life could have taken. I’ve tried my hand at several things during my time. My mind wandered to a little workshop we visited when we were on holiday recently. It was owned by a guy who made his living working on commissions of carvings from driftwood. He has a little hut where you can go and watch him work and take a look at some sketches of previous pieces he has made. There were some little pieces for sale, but that quite obviously wasn’t his main source of income. Here was a guy doing something he loved, at his own pace, using his incredible talent to make (what looked like) a fairly comfortable life for himself.
How amazing must that be? How many of can actually say that the job we do is the one we were born to? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not really a believer in fate. I just think that some people have a wonderful, passionate talent for something that marks out their course in life. Part of me wishes I was one of them. I’ve never had much direction career-wise, which has never really bothered me. But as I drag myself out of bed (on the three mornings a week I have to. Part time rocks!) to get ready for work, I do sometimes wish I’d found that ideal job that never really felt like going to work.