I’d be crap in the Army. Totally useless, I hate authority. I can be told what to do, as long as i’ll enjoy it, or it’s in line with the way I would do things. Other than that and my back is truly up.
I started my last job six whole years ago.
At that time I didn’t really know what I was going to do in life, but after a year working there I told myself this would be my last job. The last time I had a boss telling me what to do.
Now i’m not saying that happened quickly, six LONG years later and I finally felt the time was right to go it alone.
I have worked since 18 full time. The first few jobs where all well and good, progressing up the ladder blah blah blah. My salary was increasing with each year of age, I went from a company van to a brand new range topping company car at 19/20. Life was good.
But it wasn’t that good.
I’ve never really been one for falling in line. Being told what to do. I don’t think i’m the bollocks, but if i see a better…common sense way of doing something i’ll do it that way.
One time I had to drive all the way from Luton to Southampton to fix a server that was a five minute walk away from my managers house. All down to the fact that
A manager can’t be seen to be looking at problems like that
It was a six man company!
Pissed off wasn’t the mood. I was seething the whole way there and back.
See, when you have a boss you’re told to do stupid shit. Ridiculous things that don’t make sense. But you have to do them because of your little measly pay cheque that gets put into your bank account each month.
If you tell them to stick it, or disobey, that money dries up pretty quick. So you put up with it.
I can’t stand it.
By my third main job (I say job as i’ve never been in a career position) I was sick of it. The owner was a complete bell end. Everything was his way or the highway. We had a massive personality clash even though I was trying my damned hardest to tow the line.
A week after I started he suggested everyone needed to start keeping time sheets to show where their day was going as he thought I wasn’t working hard enough. So everyone started filling in the sheets…yup once again it was a six or seven man small business. Ridiculous.
My time never added up to the full day, it was always down 30 mins, maybe 45 mins. One day he questioned me on it in his crummy little office. He asked me why my time never add up to a full days work…i simply said ‘Does anyones?!’
Well…that was it. This scrawny, skeletal like man who thought he was something as he owned a second hand Aston Martin Vantage seemed to implode. You could see the steam from his ears as his face turned redder.
How….DARE you question me! Who are you to question me like that?!
I’d just made the biggest purchase of my life for this job, buying my very own car for the first time. But I sat there, feeling myself getting het up with the situation and I thought to myself…fuck this. Never again.
He then said he thought it was about time I handed my notice in (ha, ironic). I told him i’d done nothing wrong since i’d been here and he would have to fire me.
That was the beginning of the end.
I was out of work for about a month. Luckily I found a job in a local car dealership selling car parts. The money was horrific, I dropped nearly £12k within a month. But, needs must.
It kept a roof over my head, i could just pay the bills, fuel the car and pay the loan back for it. It really sucked, especially working six days a week.
Throughout those six months I wished more than anything that I could do my own thing, and not rely on someone who thinks they are better than me to feed, clothe and pay for my existence. I felt pathetic.
My last boss, from the job i’ve been in longest, the six year one i’ve just left…he was a nice enough guy. Mostly fair, would always accommodate late holiday requests, it was very give and take. One of the reasons I stayed for so long…that, and it being a seven minute drive from my house, the money was average and it was just a pretty chill job. Turn up, do your work, sod off home and switch off.
But again, stupid shit would be asked of you. Or if I was merely a few minutes late back from lunch i’d get a phone call saying
I was expecting you back by now?! Where are you?!
Mate…it’s a few minutes late. Fuck. Off. What’s ten minutes in the grand scheme of things?! I stay late, start early when needed, work weekends when asked. Rage.
He also had a bit of an anger management problem, along with mood swings worse than a middle age woman.
He’d come into the office and it would be like walking on eggshells for DAYS until boiling point was reached and shouting and screaming ensued. Sometimes he’d also bash his fists on the table like King Kong…then an hour later say ‘I’ve really hurt my hand’.
Urgh. Bosses. They are all dicks, no matter how nice they are. Which is why I finally quit.
Being your own boss.
Not answering to a being mightier than thou.
Never being asked to perform menial shit that doesn’t benefit you or your life in any way whatsoever.
Everything you do is for yourself.