Work

July 25th 2015

Today I worked out that out of the last 28 hours that I have been awake, I have been at work for 23 of them. Right now I’m picking up extra shifts wherever I can, today I was supposed to do a 16:00-23:00, but instead I did an 11:30-23:00. Tomorrow my 12:00-5:00 has turned into a 12:00-21:00.

I’m working so much because I feel that any waking hours I spend not working are just wasted hours. I’m even starting to feel like sleep is eight hours of work wasted. I have to work because I have to fund my travelling trip which commences in less than three weeks. I’ve always been a pretty goal oriented person, as in I find it easier to make myself do things if I have an end goal, or a deadline. Like when I wrote my first, and so far only complete, novel: I did it in a month and set myself a goal of doing 50,000 words in the whole of November. That made it easier for me to write, so I did it.

Now my goal is to earn as much money as I can in the space of the next three weeks. And the only way I can do that, barring some divine financial intervention, is to work every single possible hour I can. So that’s what I’m doing. And, surprisingly, I’m not hating it. I’m not tired of working 11 hour shifts every day, of barely having days off, of never getting to lay in or go to bed late. I’m hardly enjoying it, but I’m not tired of it either.

I wanted a KFC today, but I thought “Nope. That’s a waste of an hours wages.” I should’ve mentioned this earlier but I work in a restaurant, so I can get free food if I want it. The problem is that I work at Pizza Hut and I can’t eat pizza. So my diet right now is consisting of cereal for breakfast, and then Chicken Strips and Potato Wedges for Lunch and Dinner and then a bowl of cereal for midnight supper when I get home from work. Healthy.

Food is a waste of money. Sleep is a waste of time.

I’m just not saying no to any shifts that I’m offered, but I’d still do more if I could. The problem is that I physically can’t do any more hours. We open at 12pm and we close at 11pm, and I’m working every minute in between. Plus there’s the fact that, you know, I’m not the only person that works there, so some other people might want to work a few hours here and there too. I’d work 11 hour days every single day for the next two weeks and six days if I could. But work won’t let me. I’m not sure my Mum would either.

I’ve not seen my family, I’ve rarely had a proper dinner, I don’t have time to talk to my girlfriend, I had to miss watching the football today.

But that’s okay, I don’t mind it, because in two weeks and six days I’ll be on the train to Paris to start my trip around Europe.

Until tomorrow, take me there today.

Jacn

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