For various reasons, I am indeed a popular chap at the moment. But not in every way I’d want.
Chief amongst them is in my so-called part-time job. Because it’s shit, and no one wants to do it, and even more so no one wants to work nights, I am called upon if anyone calls in sick. Which is happening a lot at the moment. It’s resulting in me working a lot of night shifts… which is steadily driving me insane due to a lack of sleep.
But also, yesterday I was out delivering leaflets for the political party I’m a member of. People like me are always loved by local parties. We’ll trudge around for hours doing the same thing again and again in the hope that it’ll turn a few voters to us. And as we’re young and fit, we can go on for hours and hours without too much of a problem. Just as long as the councillors dip their hands in the pockets at the end of it and pay for food and beers.
Only yesterday’s post-leaflet celebration was cut short by the dreaded phone call asking me to work the night shift on my night off. I accepted the offer, mainly because I’m a slave to the wage right now. I need every penny I can get my hands on if I’m to amass the funds required to achieve whatever the hell it is I want to do.
Which is rather odd, because I still don’t know what to do. I must have delivered over 200 leaflets separately for my business only a few days before, only to get precisely no response. It seems everything I’ve tried to do has failed miserably. I don’t understand why it’s so difficult to get anywhere. All around me are people running businesses. Worst of all, the guy I work for in the petrol station empire is, frankly, thick as pigshit. Presumably dyslexic judging by his appalling written communication. A rather nasty piece of work too.
But he’s running a business with a multi-million pound turnover. It can’t be rocket science. What is it that I’m doing wrong? I could do with getting some advice from somewhere. Free advice, preferably. Because that’s half the problem. Everything I want to do seems to cost so much. Advertising. Rental. Buying stock to sell it at a profit. The initial outlays are huge. I can afford them, but at the same time do I want to? Maybe I’m just not prepared to risk enough to run a business.
Meanwhile, I get more and more frustrated with my life. I have a viable option to escape from this house and live with an old friends from secondary school. That makes me in demand there as well. But I don’t know whether it’s sensible. It could be the worst decision I ever make, because I don’t really know him any more, and for all I know he’s not a very good person to live with. I’ve learned that one through bitter experience. Gonna have to think through that one very carefully.
But what can I do with my life? I’m still no nearer to answering this conundrum. I thought I may have found an answer by running my own business, but no such luck.
Until I get close to solving it, I’m always going to remain just one step from severe depression.
A Grown Up Now. In Theory. 