the ant mill

just doing my job: going insane

Two months later and this job is driving me crazy – or rather, it has driven me crazy and I’ve only got round to admitting it.  (In case the details have somehow slipped your mind, as it has mine very often: it’s the one where I transferred to a different department in pursuit of a peaceful life, etc.)  After spending four months being blamed for the state of the world economy and everything else the Irish public could think of, I had convinced myself by this point that working in performance assessment would be far better than any jobs I have done in the past.  Not only would I escape from the constant accusations (“You made me do everything I hate about my life!!”), but I would also put some distance between myself and that one manager I just cannot stand for various, various reasons.  However, as with every plan well-laid, there has to be some setback you would rather not deal with.

In this instance, I guess you could say it’s my own fault.  After all, it’s not like I took the time to research the role in question or have a chat with the people who are working in that department.  Had I prepared myself from the outset then perhaps I would have discovered the true nature of this job and understood the position for what it truthfully is: a spiral of desistance, a type of stagnant hell where you’re caught up in a mill of other ants milling, forever milling in circles ’til your brain cells fucking collapse.

poor little bastards

Instead of a department respected and relied on, I was joining one which nobody knew or even really thought about.  Of course they were aware that such a department existed, don’t get me wrong, but they didn’t have a clue what that department even meant or what impact it could have on their daily performance.

To claim I wasn’t one of those people would be a lie.  Before I’d joined their sad and dismal ranks, strolling past this department at the start and end of my shift was like walking past a montage for a Tom and Jerry knife chase.  Department who?  Where?  I didn’t know who they were, and basically, I didn’t give a fig, but when you’re standing on the opposite side, scrutinising those people who fail to acknowledge and comprehend your existence, it’s actually the worst kind of feeling you can have – the very worst you can have in an office environment.  With a reception like that, who would want to work when no one gives a shit?  And why even try when your efforts are never recognised?  When I joined the department, I was shocked at how the team really was, considering their role and the industry we work in: on every face was written the feelings of Apathy, Desperation, Boredom, and Bitterness – no different to the faces of the team I’d left behind, though surprising for a role I presumed would have… you know, more of those things that the old team just didn’t.

all i wanted was a comfort break…

I know, I know, what I’m saying is vague and may not make much sense, what with all the censorship, but this department I joined… it’s meant to be important.  It’s meant to safeguard and protect any company in a market with strict regulations, and from the way this department is treated, compared to the UK, where they place the fear of losing your job in everything that you do (using your mobile at work, failing to read the intranet updates, signing in as a friend, etc.), I can see why the people there have gradually lost their spirit and passion, why they do whatever they feel like since no one’s even looking.

Then again, how does that explain a department where half the team job-share, have worked there for donkeys, and don’t know jack about computers?  Well… there is no explanation.  All I know is that it’s not very fun, especially when two leaders rotate on a weekly basis (don’t ask me how that works; I’ve given up on the concept).  And in addition to watching your mouth, because you’re new and learning and don’t yet have a feel for the dagger in their cloaks, there’s the whole grin-and-bear-it in front of your former colleagues, who can’t be blamed for assuming that you’re happier than they are.

one pint or two?

Alas, I shan’t go on about it (it’s not very British), but there you go: that’s my wonderful job!  I’m sure there are some good points and saving graces involved – not to mention the fact I’ll feel completely different later on, like, when the weekend starts.  All the same, what a natty transfer… I need to work on my choices 😦

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