No more 9 to 5 guy
October 27, 2006
Sorry it’s been over a week since my last post. I’ve been distracted by events in that strange ‘real-world’ place; that shadowy limbo outside the bright colours of the blogosphere. Do you remember when ‘real-world’ was the only world…?
Er… anyway, before I start wandering off into dumb-ass philosophical wittering, the fact is – I’ve been busy resigning from my comfortable 9-5 job. A brave new self-employed future beckons. Will the new year bring me untold wealth and personal freedom, or leave me homeless and unable to afford even the humblest of veg box deliveries? Who knows? Who cares? Probably not Hugh Firmly-Witteringstall.
Shortly after resigning, I found a photocopied notice had been pinned above my desk. [ To set the scene: I work in a small, dark office in the bowels of one of this nation’s most prestigious cultural institutions – think art and design, Great Exhibition, South Kensington, Da Vinci and Kylie Minogue exhibitions, ‘great cafe, with a museum attached’ etc… ]. The notice was a resignation letter, apparently written by a museum employee called Francis Douce in 1811. It goes like this…
Reasons For Resignation
1. The nature of the constitution of the Museum altogether objectionable
2. The coldness, and even danger, in frequenting the great house in winter.
3. The vastness of the business remaining to be done & continually flowing in.
4. The total impossibility of my individual efforts, limited, restrained and controlled as they are, to do any real, or at least much, good.
5. An apparent… system of espionage throughout the place & certainly a want of due respect towards & confidence in the officers.
6. The total absence of all aid in my department
9. The want of society with the members, their habits wholly different & their manners far from fascinating & sometimes repulsive.
10. The want of power to do any good, & the difficulty of making the motley & often trifling committees sensible that they could do any.
11. The general pride & affected consequence of these committees.
12. Their assumption of power, that I think not vested in them.
13. Their fiddle faddle requisition of incessant reports, the greatest part of which can inform them of nothing, or, when they do, of what they are generally incapable of understanding or fairly judging of.
Ring a bell with those of who’ve had the pleasure of working in the public sector?
It made me chuckle, although myself, I’ll be leaving the museum with a wee lump in my throat, being a sentimental type. But tomorrow it’s back to more important matters – a new, unsullied, virgin veg box will be appearing on our doorstep. A veg box is for life, a job is just for Christmas.