everything was tired and nothing made sense

I have just finished a run of 5 consecutive days at my housekeeping job. When I came home (after a disappointing failed trip to a hospital far away to give a blood sample, too late, too late) I put on a load of washing, cleaned up to make the place shiny and new after our Airbnbers (not that they made a mess, I'm just an absolutist when it comes to feeling comfortable in my own space), and now I'm sitting with a pint glass of water (hydration is the key to success) and sore limbs.

5 days is the typical stretch anyone works, but my job is incredibly physically demanding. Not only is it timed to the last second, but you're also required to lug heavy things around and generally maintain a series of unnatural and uncomfortable positions for hours at a time (making beds when you're tall, no mean feat). I have no qualms about doing this 'precarious' unskilled work, money is money, and I need a quick fix solution before Autumn comes and my first step on the career ladder finally begins (more on that soon!). But it's mentally taxing, stressful, and tiring.

I cannot really emphasis enough how exhausted my body is. I may be stronger and fitter now than I was 6 weeks ago, but doing this work for any extended amount of time is a middle ago of chronic back and limb pain waiting to happen. I made a throwaway comment to the woman that trained me in that this was my 5th day in a row (usually our days are spaced out over the week, only 3 days a week), and how tired I was. She proceeded to tell me that she once worked 18 DAYS IN A ROW and that if you stay in the job long enough you'll work the whole month without a break. 

There's something incredibly sad, no, angering, about an industry that sets those conditions as something to be expected, and not, say, illegal. I'll be really glad to hand in my notice in a couple of months. I just feel bad for all the woman that work at that place (perpetually and patronisingly referred to as 'the girls' by the supervisors) and feel like they don't deserve any better.

new start

I am pretty excited, I have finally gotten myself a little job, which means I can continue with my life as normal, while working part-time and earning some money. It's only a start, but one I am very grateful for.

My final Airbnb guests for a couple of weeks left this morning, so I have been cleaning the whole apartment to make it like new, ironing shirts, and drinking coffee with cream and milk (half and half does not exist in Europe, although it should, so this is the best I can do). 

I have to go do a Danish test later, so I have to spend the afternoon studying the past tense and vocabulary about liking/not liking various foods. Riveting.

Did you know, they've uncovered some new evidence which suggests that Stonehenge was built by an ancient people who inhabited the area. 

Here's the cutest ad campaign to highlight pickpocketing in Copenhagen (don't really see the need for this, especially the Danish language version, I'm fairly sure only the most obvious of tourists get pick pocketed). And a tiny clothes peg!

Last Saturday Leo and I decided to go to the Kunst museum to learn some Danish, because they have a well lit cafe and it seemed like a nice way to pass a few hours.

On the way we got caught up in the Copenhagen Pride Parade and stopped for at least 40 minutes, mesmerised by truck after truck of all singing, all dancing men, women, drag queens, and every kind of gendered identity you could imagine. It was fantastic, seeing so many individuals (and so many children, so many supporters of gay rights, normative families, elderly people) simply partying, having a great time, and celebrating every aspect of the 'gender' spectrum. It really warmed my heart.

What a city :)

The buses usually have Danish flags

 We finally made it to the museum, and spent a few minutes acting like dorks and taking pictures of ourselves. This one I call 'A Study in Motion and Stillness':

 

Then we had coffee and wrote lists of impossible Danish words for a while.

Then we went (yet again) to Paludan bogcafe, where we split the biggest plate of tagliatelle ever and a berry smoothie, and then I had to go to work and was sad.

Sunday

Sundays are for sleeping in, leisurely breakfasts and making plans. Here's to not working on Sundays*

*next Sunday I have to work, but maybe that will be the last one I do, as a waitress, for a very long time.
Tomorrow I have an interview for a very real, very not waitressing job, and if I was to get it I would be beyond happy. Here's hopin'.

On Doing Bad Jobs For No Money

If you were sitting where I am sitting right now you would hear two things; Panic! At the Disco playing quietly from some speakers on the desk, and the rain slapping liberally on the concrete outside. It's Sunday, and I'm working the 12-21 shift, for about £8.50 per hour. I'm 23, I have a Masters. I'm intelligent, amicable and competent at most things I attempt. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Despite being a fairly successful human being, I'm in danger of getting stuck in this rut, the rut I call the 'post-University job trap'. I've worked since the age of 17. From that first terrible job in Super Valu, I've worked non-stop since, often holding down as many as three jobs, while studying. Admittedly, studying Sociology isn't as taxing as one might be led to believe, but I've worked hard, and I've negotiated the labour market like some sort of caffeine-pumped ninja.

I've worked in some good jobs, mostly bad jobs, and almost all mediocre paying jobs. I've never expected anything set in stone, regular, particularly reasonably paid or progressive, because it was always 'just' a job for money while I studied. But now I've finished studying and I find myself trapped in one of these 'just' a job jobs.

Living in London is pricey. There's rent which instantly eats up approximately 1/3 of your income. Food is as over-priced as it is over-fertilised. Public transport is a cruel joke. Lucky for me I'm well adapted to living cheaply. I cycle everywhere, don't drink alcohol (not because I want to save money, it's just a happy coincidence) and don't spend money on superfluous items of clothing that fall apart after three washes.

I might be frugal, but that's not solely the point. The issue is more of credibility than of money, although it would of course be nice to have a higher salary. I have a loan to pay back, and I need to start paying it back now. I don't want to be always denying myself things because I don't earn enough, because heaven knows I work enough.

I'm becoming disillusioned with my own choices as much as the miniscule size of my paycheck. Eventually, after making excuses for 5 years that 'it's just a job', the question needs to be asked why I don't strive for more than that. With the education I have, I shouldn't be doing this job, in a company that is so disorganised and mismanaged that i regularly want to pull my hair out when dealing with its bureaucracy.

I have ever so much to say on the topic of Doing Bad Jobs For No Money, and I don't expect this will be the last time I'll broach the topic. But I don't want to generalise about my past work experiences. I rather am trying to formulate some sort of mentality whereby I psyche myself up to hand in a letter (email) of resignation, find new, better prospects, and settle into something reliable (however temporary, but why that will be is another story for another day).

I'm trying so hard to convince myself to 'just go for it' but the prospect of being unemployed, or of going back into another mediocre job, is scary. There's a lot of things I want to be, and this isn't one of them. I'm wasting my life doing something I hate. I have so many plans, and I'm not going to realise a single one of them if I never make enough money to save, or have enough free time to plan them.

I'm going to spend the last half-hour of work trying to compose a sensible yet firm email, and hopefully I will have resigned by tomorrow morning.