I work fluctuating amounts of hours in a coffee shop. It’s fast paced sometimes, pressurised all of the time. It keeps me busy over the summer, provides a break from university during the term time and most importantly, it’s financially rewarding. My job has been my constant for the past three years. It’s consistent; regular customers, regular challenges and repeated scripted speech. I’m pretty alright at my job, I know its expectations and I know mine.
I’m grateful that I have my job; I’m lucky to even have a job, even more so for it being with a great company. I know that it doesn’t matter that I dislike university, that I don’t really do anything, that I have little money right this instant. I signed a contract, I don’t carry out any misconducts, I receive my earnings every week. That basic eight hour shift will always be there. At the end of the four, six, or eight hour shift, the day is done. That’s that. I can go home knowing I’ve secured my days wages. I’ve provided my means to the next end. Whatever that is, is (touch wood) safe.
This job was only ever meant to be my ‘gap year,’ something to fill the time while I decided what to do in regards to studying. Not that I made a good or well informed decision in the end. Four years of employment will match three years of studying. I can tell you more about the politics of certain eras than about the actual literature itself and if you come to my work place, I will undoubtedly make you a latte if you ask for a cappuccino. I don’t feel like I have progressed much in either area. My interest in literature has suffocated, there’s no sign of any promotion. No fancy titles to gain, I’ll be lucky if I am awarded BA.
I’ve been hoping that my job is my menial distracting task and that I will come to an epiphany.
The only so called epiphany that I have reached is that this isn’t what I want to do for my whole life. It’s not what I want to do for another three years. I frequently acknowledge that I need to go and get other experience; coming out of university knowing (or not knowing, in my case) how to make a good cappuccino isn’t going to get me far.
How do I compare to the masses of people around me who are so dedicated to their cause, so involved in anything and everything; travelling, organisations, volunteering, vlogs and work experience in their chosen area. By second hand I experience some things that I never knew existed. I want so much more.
So much more what?
I still don’t know. I don’t know anything. I haven’t developed a new passion, talent or a particularly new interest in the past three years. My favourite bands have changed, I love the gym and I want to trade in all my novels for comics; these are the new things about me. I keep talking about doing something, anything. And I don’t. I won’t. I panic about my CV, the thing that will get me away from the coffee machines. I don’t know what I want to do, so I carry on with what I have to do; nothing inspiring, challenging or exciting.
I left once for a new job. I went straight back.
There’s still two months left of summer. I’ve already started reading and dissertation researching. I have no plans left this year round. Dry, dawdling, disgusting. Wasting every free day I’m being given. It’s sickening. Go anywhere, do anything.
- Seek internship/experience in anything.
- Search for own hidden talent.
- Scout out new interests.
- Strengthen enjoyment in all music related areas.
- Scotland – get there.
Ideally this is what I want to do with the next two months. Tomorrow I have work again. I’ll do the same things, again. I haven’t written in a while, this is refreshing; the only solace from being sat here