Or, as others have said,
"if you love your job, you'll never work a day in your life".
And I had that, for over nine years.
I slept like a log, bounced out of bed, had no trouble at all getting my arse out of the house and on its way to work.
I'd learned the job pretty quickly, (I had previous experience from another factory), and because I enjoyed it, I'd become extremely good at it. I had my work table, my routine, (no customers that had to be chatted to), and I knew several other aspects of the job, so when I caught up, I could go and help others for a while.
The atmosphere was happy, the people I worked with were great.
Cameraderie? We had it!
I'd clock on at 7am, get busy with the day's quota (which we often surpassed) and before I knew it, the hands of the clock had rolled around to 4pm and it was time to go home.
Even overtime didn't faze me. I was happy to do it. The extra pay was just a bonus.
I loved my work.
Then we heard that the factory was closing down. They could get the shoes made cheaper in another country. Several workers immediately left and went to other jobs.
Others, including me, stayed on until the last day, finishing up, cleaning up, dismantling machinery, packing up supplies to be shipped to the new off-shore facility.
I did the rounds of all similar factories in town, applying to work, but no-one wanted to hire me.
The one that I'd previously worked in told me to come back and apply again after the closure of my current workplace.
I did this, only to be told they'd already taken on six people from the now closed factory.
A month ago!!
I banked my retrenchment cheque (it wasn't nearly enough to retire on..) and went to several more job placement agencies leaving my resume.
I checked in with them every week.
Many of them told me that cold-calling is often effective.
Knock on doors and ask for work.
Hah!! I knocked on doors only to be told, "we hire through such-and-such agency. Go there and leave your resume".
I applied for jobs advertised in newspapers and got plenty of rejection letters. Two years later I had enough rejection letters to make wallpaper, but at least they answered me.
Repeat, repeat, repeat.
When the money ran out, (a lot quicker than I would have liked), Centrelink informed me that I could get an allowance, plus an extra $20 per fortnight if I did volunteer work.
So I took on a volunteer* job for a while, but continued to apply for a paying job with every agency I could get to by walking or a couple of bus rides.
At first I thought volunteering might get me a position in someplace that wasn't a factory.
I applied at libraries, (I love books), but was told without qualifications they couldn't take me on.
I needed a piece of paper that said I'd qualified in Library Science just to shelve books?
I applied to be an office assistant.....again, with no experience or qualifications, I wasn't accepted anywhere.
I applied to do a training course in Tourism. I thought maybe I could learn enough to be the person at the desk who makes appointments for people to discuss travel arrrangements with a travel advisor.
I could answer the phone. File the papers, stuff like that. How hard could it be?
Again, I was disappointed. The woman in the office said I could fill in the application, I could get accepted in the course, but even if I passed with flying colours, I had little chance of securing a job in the industry. I just wasn't the type of person that got hired for the front desk. I was too old. I wasn't young and "perky" enough. I didn't bother with the application.
*Eventually I took the volunteer job with Conservation Australia that I'd seen in the paper, and was placed in a team of older people. We were called the Green Reserves and did the boring jobs like clearing weeds from roadside verges. We climbed mountains (hills, really) to remove olive saplings and artichokes and anything else that wasn't native to the area.
Occasionally we did fun stuff, like going out to a farm and helping the farmer plant windbreaks.
After six months of this, things were getting really tight in the household budget, (I still had two kids at home), so I accepted a "Christmas Casual" position with Coles.
(This wasn't something I'd ever wanted to do.
I'd never been the kid who said "when I grow up I want to work in a shop".)
I thought I'd work for three months, while still applying for more preferred jobs.
Customer Service really isn't my "thing".
Wearing the uniform, being smiley and cheerful with the customers no matter what might be going on in other areas of your life...
Better jobs never materialised however, and now, almost ten years later, I'm still with Coles.
I no longer enjoy working.
It isn't fun, so yes, it's work.
It's a chore.
I no longer sleep like a log, (although I do still sleep), I no longer bounce out of bed, I have real trouble getting my arse out of the house and on its way to work.
I also don't bother applying for other jobs anymore.
I'm just hanging in there until I'm old enough to retire.
The Denier Lives Eternally In Denial
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