What a week it's been so far. Work has been crazy, with long days and not even having time to go to the loo. And then, just as I was busy pulling my hair out because there is NO WAY I can effectively do all the things I have to do within the workday, a lorry pulled outside our building and dumped a ton of new responsibilities on my lap along with a fancy new title to go under my job description. Will I get extra money for it? You're kidding, right? I will be paid in headaches and sleepless nights instead.
I was this close to bursting into tears of frustration. Then I got angry instead, for all the good that it did me. In this line of work, if a tree falls in the forest and everyone's around to hear it, no one gives a damn anyway. The whole forest could be mowed down by a multinational cooperation to make way for cow pastures and it still wouldn't make a sound.
When the amount of responsibilities in a job surpasses the monetary benefits derived from it, there'd better be some other satisfaction you get from it to make up for it. If there isn't, well, that particular job sucks. Frankly, I'd rather make less money and be happy with what I do, than get lots of money and dread going to work every day.
Running to and from work did not work its therapeutic magic, either. My foot doesn't hurt, but it's not ok. My legs felt heavy, even though I'd had a day's rest. Something was wrong. I felt that it was too warm, my pulse was too high and I couldn't get into a flow. I felt like I was getting ill. At some point during my morning run I passed 2000 km for this year, which had been my goal, and I didn't even notice. What did go through my head was that I maybe needed a longer period of rest. Maybe an easier month, with shorter and less frequent runs, and more alternative training. I still have my swimming card. But I'm worried that I would lose too much strength and stamina. Yet my body needs to heal, so that I can find the energy to set new goals for next year. Like maybe get a new job.
I was this close to bursting into tears of frustration. Then I got angry instead, for all the good that it did me. In this line of work, if a tree falls in the forest and everyone's around to hear it, no one gives a damn anyway. The whole forest could be mowed down by a multinational cooperation to make way for cow pastures and it still wouldn't make a sound.
When the amount of responsibilities in a job surpasses the monetary benefits derived from it, there'd better be some other satisfaction you get from it to make up for it. If there isn't, well, that particular job sucks. Frankly, I'd rather make less money and be happy with what I do, than get lots of money and dread going to work every day.
Running to and from work did not work its therapeutic magic, either. My foot doesn't hurt, but it's not ok. My legs felt heavy, even though I'd had a day's rest. Something was wrong. I felt that it was too warm, my pulse was too high and I couldn't get into a flow. I felt like I was getting ill. At some point during my morning run I passed 2000 km for this year, which had been my goal, and I didn't even notice. What did go through my head was that I maybe needed a longer period of rest. Maybe an easier month, with shorter and less frequent runs, and more alternative training. I still have my swimming card. But I'm worried that I would lose too much strength and stamina. Yet my body needs to heal, so that I can find the energy to set new goals for next year. Like maybe get a new job.
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