not long ago, only ten years or so, i can remember the last time that i ever worked a sunday. assembling plastic fire alarm sounders over and over again, maybe a couple of thousand times while packing batches of them into these razor sharp flat pack cardboard boxes
even though i could probably still do it if i tried, i’d still probably have something more fun to do than work on a fucking sunday
i have worked christmas eve, new years day, permanent nights, in jail where the whole week only gives you £13 anyway. fucking incredible jobs for some of the most rich and powerful people in the world, to shitty placements where ten minutes felt like over an hour / nothing about being there made any difference / you’re still capable of doing this, even if you can’t read or write
it actually came down to falling asleep waiting to get sacked –> got promoted and given my own office –> promising career in a germany based massive international conglomerate –> falling asleep at my desk waiting to get sacked –> getting sacked then still getting a tidy out of court settlement even when i got sacked. i will say this for them though, at least they let me go on the christmas doo before i got chucked
someone is working today; they are so ridiculously intelligent and successful, live on a higher plane where the beaudiful people bask bronze in the everlasting glow of the sun … things i would do if i was on their level with what they probably have, would want, would get away with, have access to …
i’ve already spent a very long time coming up with exciting / adventurous / hilarious / risqué / irresponsible / clever if you properly think about it for a moment things that i would do if i was (everything that this person and others like them are responsible for, get paid every month, have access to) … and it still disarmed and took me by surprise because for all of my cunning vision, not once did i consider just how much it would take the piss having all that and still turning up to assemble the same plastic alarm sounder with its iddy biddy printed and soldered circuit board thousands of times – when all the saturday night sniff heads are still just getting started, where you don’t even need to be able to write your own name – putting them into the flat pack cardboard boxes that slash and cut the fuck out of your hands … only to finish with still a few hours to go before most people can be assed getting out of bed, on a sunday
i could sit here posing in the mirror curling off my shitty 9KG like a twat, but instead of being another one of them dickheads i’m surrendering my free will to a higher power and letting her tell me all about how my thoughts and feelings about everything i would do if i was in that world again are actually just a distraction from the truth: i’ve lost something.
something i once held sacred in itself – even when it was boring, repetitive, braindead – it served the kind of mind i have. it worked for me.
i will never work a sunday probably ever again. it’s not going to caricature the otherwise fucking incredible career that i went out and got. i can’t parody the virtues of assembling parts for minimum wage on a sunday ever again, and i’m not so clever i can enjoy the fountain of irony where i myself might have once basked and bathed in
even though i had the chance to live with the beaudiful people in their world anyway, i would have had to be some kind of psychopath to actually continue a relationship on that basis which i can’t imagine what the state of, now and after all this time, would be
top this one. new relationship, the first impression i made to her dad: listening about me getting arrested on his police radio.
my first impression game is so good that i can actually say my reputation precedes me. the responsibility that comes with such a status though … anytime someone ignores the sad losers who have never even met me before, and i can see it in their eyes they’re actually going to form an opinion of their own … whoa. don’t take that for granted anymore i think. especially on a sunday, as a matter of fact
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