A few people have walked into the studio lately and commented on how lucky I am. How I must have my dream job. It can be easy to forget how things could have worked out.
I had a brief and unpleasant reminder some weeks ago, as I tried to extricate a large sum of money from a company who always fail to pay on time. I called the head office and had the misfortune to speak to “Katie”. Let’s call her Katie (since her voice and manner were reminiscent of Katie Hopkins). Katie was pretty appalled and irritated that I wanted to be paid. She was condescending and rude, which as I pointed out to her, was strange, since I was the aggrieved party. She didn’t like that. So, shaking with anger, I struggled through the conversation, dreaming of telling Katie to go and fuck herself but managing to stifle the urge.
The conversation ended, I burst into tears, “I’m not a moron! I have a degree! She’s ruined my afternoon! I hate Katie!” Something like that.
Since then however, things have crystallized in my mind. After graduation I spent a couple of years working in a London based, economics publishing firm. It wasn’t a bad job but my happiest memories are long periods of crying so hard with laughter on the phone to my best friend, that we had to hang up on each other. This stands testament to the strength of our friendship, since we actually lived together at the time and still felt the need to share jokes in the short hours we were separated. I found office life difficult. I didn’t like having to listen to the men in suits by the reuters terminal, guffaw about how silly women were.
My point being, that working in said environment created the required impetus, to propel me out of it and into a job I love. So no matter how odious Katie was, she was a good reminder that life could be worse. I could be sat in an office next to her. And I’m not.