“Work for Bread”

I got really depressed the other day at work and walked all the way to the BT tower, for a bit of fresh air. It was a nice walk, serene even.

Work seems to have become an actual ‘toil’ recently, a word that conjures up images of Russian peasant women, covered in dirt and ploughing away in barren fields grafting for a loaf. Okay, it might not be exactly like that, but it’s been a bit much recently. Long hours and bigger work loads have led to staff morale dropping through the floor. Not that it was ever massively high anyway but I distinctly remember that there was a period where people weren’t randomly bursting into tears in the kitchen and weren’t being as short with each other:

“Let me hold that door for you”

“Yeah, you will wanker”

Its all fun and games though isn’t it, what other options are there around? Not much, although I have toyed with the idea of making extra money on the side by dressing as the late husbands of wealthy widows. It won’t be hard work I imagine, dressing in old suits, going for walks along the pier and listening to the wireless with them at Bridge club. And even if they did want to rekindle a certain carnal fire…I’d still probably prefer it to coding invoices.