Sitting at my tiny desk.
Listening to Bobbi Humphrey on my headphones.
Drinking a mug of peppermint tea.
Loads of windows open: e-mails, web browsers, spreadsheets, folders, word documents.
Thinking about what to do with the rest of my day, the rest of my week, the rest of my life.
Formulating escape plans. Searching for new opportunities. Fighting for the exit.
No-one talks to me. I talk to no-one. But I’ve got music and tea and my thoughts and my words, and I’m counting the minutes.
Every working day is like this. The details change but the fundamentals stay the same.
How do I get out of this chickenshit outfit?