Working in an Office

Working in an office is all I’ve ever done. I’ve managed to work my way up from photocopy girl to a secretary for a Partner over the 11 years in total that I’ve been doing office jobs. I’ve literally never done anything else, aside from a two day stint in a fruit market, but I quit on the third day, because it was awful. I’ve never worked in a bar, never done food service, anything.

But I hate office work. Or should I say I’ve grown to hate it. I was looking up the retirement age for women in the UK recently and my jaw went through the two floors below me when I discovered it was 68 years old. I have to work until I’m realistically old enough to die of either old age (hey, it happens) or some other ailment I’ll no doubt have at that age. Wonderful.

This got me thinking: I cannot do this. I thought about sitting at the desk I’m at now, for 39 more years, doing the same thing for the rest of my life and it made me want to kill myself. I have awful GCSEs, no A Levels and at present, no degree (I just started a Bsc in Natural Sciences with a focus on Geology, but that’ll take me six years to complete… and then of course I have to pass) so getting a job when it seems everyone out there has paperwork that states they ain’t stupid, is near impossible. In the last few years I’ve sent out dozens and dozens of applications (probably about 60 to give a number) and I’ve not even gotten an interview.

My CV is fine. I embellish my talents quite well but never lie. My phone manner is great, my typing skills are second to none (100 words per minute, with approximately 97% accuracy), but I can’t even get a job as someone’s secretary because I don’t have a qualification telling me that I can sit at a desk and make coffee for some rich suit.

It’s painful. And I won’t do it for the next 39 years. Hell, I can’t. It’ll drive me mad!

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