Here I am, sitting in my office on a Thursday evening, waiting for either A) my boss to get out of her present meeting to tell me what tasks she wants me to do for her in the upcoming days, or B) 6 pm, when I have a Public Liason Group meeting starting. Which will come first? To be honest, it will probably be the 6 pm meeting! And I'm wishing that it was tomorrow at 5 pm, when I would be well on my way home to start the weekend!
What is it about working that turns every single person into a minute-counter, wishing-for-the-weekend person? I'm a firm believer that people should only do jobs that make them happy, but here I am, sitting in a pencil skirt and nylons, waiting for a meeting to start that I will have no interest in. Why do I do it? Well, it's all for the big C.V. Curriculum vitae by name, resumé by trade.
My job drives me nuts atleast 50% of the time, the other 50% can be quite interesting, and I'm finally being allowed to undertake tasks that are somewhat challenging and new (therefore interesting) for me. Is 50% enough for happiness? Definitely not! So what makes the suffering, boredom, and sometimes uncomfortable clothing worthwhile? THIS WILL LOOK SO GOOD ON MY CV!!!! I am getting insider experience into the running of an international educational charity. I am working first hand with the President and CEO of this charity. And as it is my job, literally, to know everything that is going on in all of the different departments, I have a unique view of the inner workings of this College, and the inner NOT workings as well!
So yes, I'm a bit of a hypocrite to my own work ethic. But that work ethic also includes doing the best job I can, doing it efficiently, and realising that sacrifices sometimes have to get made for things to get done. So I'm sacrificing my 26 year old self to the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh, with the hopes that someday this will help me land a much better job, in an area much better suited to my personality (and my dislike for rigid work hours). For now, that's got to be enough.
p.s. What happened to the days where you KNEW that you could totally be a ballerina for a living? Career Day was a joke!