9 - 5

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

A twenty - something year old describes his working week in a dead end job, and the ins and outs of how to make the week go faster.

Submitted: November 16, 2017

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Submitted: November 16, 2017



I usually find that the best way to make my week at work go quicker is to split the days up into what the days mean to me personally. It's always in my head and I never seem to speak to anyone else about it - it's just something I keep to myself in an attempt to almost 'trick myself' into thinking the working week is going quicker than it actually is. The way I split the week up is;

**Monday** - Back to work, feeling slightly hungover so I do very little slowly getting into the weekly grind once again. **Tuesday** - The shittest day of the week by far. It has no purpose so I rely on people I work with to help my day go quicker. It's just a dead day. **Wednesday** - At least you're half way through the week. Nothing else to say really. **Thursday** - Now is the time you can start to plan your weekend and actually show a flicker of emotion towards it as opposed to planning something earlier in the week when Saturday seems so long away. **Friday** - Friday seems so much longer than any other day even though we finish an hour earlier. Once you've got past the last break, you're golden, you can actually look forward to getting home then. If you start getting excited before last break, you'll have a day of monotonous bullshit that you can't stop hating.

That's usually what I think of weekdays - or words to that effect anyway. When you hate a job so much that you have to think like this just to get through the week, it's time for a new career. I know this, but once your wage comes in and you get comfortable, it's very hard to actually get motivated to look for a job you are at least slightly interested in. This was only supposed to be a temporary job whilst I save up to go travelling around the world. I've been here four years. At first, I can lie to people i work with and even to myself about having the goal to travel around the world. There's only so long you can keep it up for without giving in to the reality that I'm going to be in this job for a while, with no *real* ambition to travel. I'd have a go if it was on a plate for me, but endless saving and planning put me off. I've come to peace with the inevitable that I'm probably going to be in this job for a while longer yet. The main reason I've stayed is i have now got used to my 'work family' and I can't really imagine leaving them - as sad as that sounds. There's a couple of dick heads but other than that, there people who are in our team are great, I haven't got a problem with anyone, even the team leader is a good guy. I wouldn't call anyone who I directly work with a 'work mate' - I'd just call them a mate. The job we do is making duvet and mattress covers, it's a big company and makes a lot of money, so we're always in work. I stand at a sewing machine and stitch the material together. Boring job, but once you've done a job for so long, it becomes second nature and i know the exact amount that's 'adequate' for management to see - the rest of the time in the day is mine to chat to friends or just to mess about in general. We've got a system of how we work, it's efficient for the actual job itself and works well for us, once we've done our certain amount of work, we warn each other about the owner of the company coming round to see what we're all up to. The boss is the butt of most jokes (behind his back) The boss actually only owns half of the company, the other half belongs to his mother. Imagine a frail old woman who is way past retirement age that gets in the way of most things rather than helping a situation, she still thinks she's about 40 and that things should run the way they did years ago. In all the time I've been there, I've never once seen her make an effort to talk to a member of staff like a human being. Shes called Barbara Lord. Her son is Brian Lord - but we call him' Norman' or 'Batesey' - after Norman Bates from psycho, due to the strange relationship he seems to have with his mother. - Like I said, it's all behind his back. Norman is a 40-something year old guy who hasn't left his mother's breast, I think deep down he knows that he should really have flown the nest by now but still, he lives with her in their terrace house. They could afford a nicer, larger house but for some reason, they like to reside there. Norman is the kind of guy where to look at him, you'd just know he isn't married or even in a relationship, he's got that look about him that screams 'comic book collector'. About 6'2 and chubby as hell, he waddles around the factory doing what orders his semi-decrepit mother barks at him to do. In his heart I think he would just once love to tell her himself to Fuck off but it's almost as if he's scared of her still, even at her age. The team I'm on, to pass time sometimes and just for a laugh come up with little scenarios of what they actually do on a night time. Leanne made me laugh, she said *"After news night, I bet he helps her in and out of the bath, then slips her into the red lingerie she bought for his birthday... Happy Birthday son, now here's your cake."* I did nearly throw up, but it was funny, especially seen as how Barbara would snap in a gust of wind, let alone a shag - from her overweight oaf of a son. Barbara is what you imagine in a frail old woman, riddled with arthritis, slightly snappy if you don't do things exactly her way, and has a slight whiff of piss to her - you can always tell when you're stood next to Barbara, even if you were blindfolded. One of the reasons we call him 'Batesey' is because when I first started, he was outside having a cigarette when his mother came around the corner, spotted him and in front of everyone stood at the smoking shelter, she gave him a clout round the ear and gave a 10 minute lecture as to why he shouldn't smoke. Norman just stood there and took it, like a teenager would who knows he's in trouble with a parent. Another reason is that (this was never actually proven) was that Denise walked into his office one morning to find Norman giving his mid 70's year old mother a massage. Granted, it was supposedly only a shoulder massage whilst she was fully clothed, but naturally, our imagination and sick, bored minds twist it into something disgusting. Once you're used to a workplace and especially the workers, you fall into a bubble, or just a small circle of friends who you prefer to be around. There's a few people that work closer to the office where I wouldn't dream of calling Brian "Batesey" to them, because they'd be straight in the office. Like I mentioned, it's a good group of people we stick with at work and it just makes the day go so much quicker than usual. It's almost heartbreaking when part of your little clique leaves, - the people the only thing keeping me at this job to be honest, but I can't stay here forever just because my friends are here. The time for me to leave is coming up and I'm going to have to think about how I'm going to do it and what my plans are. To be honest, in reality, once the days work is done and I'm home, there isn't a great deal there for me. I still live at home with no signs of moving out coming any time soon. With no friends or social interests, the truth is, I'm no better than Batesey, at least he owns half a successful business and I'm taking the piss out of him for owning it with his mum. Maybe I do it to mask my own insecurities - I probably do actually.

A couple of months pass and It's Monday morning again. The weekends fly by to say that I'm doing fuck all over them, but there's something just not quite right about this Monday, something feels different - I can't point my finger on what it is. If you left this company for 6 month, then came back, absolutely nothing would have changed, that's how grim and predictable this place is - but for some reason, this morning I really would have rather been anywhere else but at work. I think the reality of my situation is that my itch to travel has come again, after years of putting it off, that's all I can think of this morning and the realisation hits me that I'm now 29, I'm not getting any younger. Most people have done their travelling, come back home and settled down by the time they're my age, but I've been swallowed up into one dead end job to another, getting by with no ambition or plans for the future.

The walk to work is usually a slow process of me waking up and getting back into the routine, today is different, I have hundreds of thoughts running around my head of Where I would go travelling?... Asia. How much will it cost?... I've got enough. When will I go?... As soon as I've quit my job. That's it, that's the only thing stopping me. If I'm going to do this, I have to quit my job in a snap decision, no thinking about it - just do it, that kind of attitude of worrying about everything is what has got me into this pointless lifestyle I lead in the first place. I talk myself round into leaving my job today and march to work, literally planning exactly what I'm going to say and rehearsing it in my head. I've talked myself up that much that I almost feel unstoppable. - pathetic I feel this way, it's only leaving a job, but it's a big deal to me, I'll miss my work family but I've got to start thinking about myself. I walk through the security gates to see the factory doors are still shut and a few people are congregating outside. Never in the whole amount of time I've worked here have we been waiting for the factory doors to be opened, managers are always the first on site. I scurry over to the group of people standing outside waiting. Leanne is there with a few others, cigarette in hand. I recognise the faces of the group she's with as I get closer, it's now safe to shout it, there are no grasses here. Not that it matters anyway, because I now have my 'quitting speech' word for word in my head. "Where's Norman?! She keep him up last night?! The fucks going on here?!" I still don't get an answer from anyone, so I shout it again - word for word the same. This time, by the time the last word leaves my mouth, I'm stood with the people smoking. Still no answer, I prod leanne on the shoulder to make her acknowledge me. "Mr Lord is inside, he's locked himself in. I think something has happened." Leanne looks concerned and I can immediately tell something is wrong because she called him "Mr Lord". I bet even his mother doesn't call him that at formal parties. I go to the door to find that it's not actually locked, not even shut, the door is left slightly open. No one tries to stop me from entering as everyone is secretly eager to find out what has gone on - curiosity gets the better of me and I'm just as excited to find out what has happened as I am to hand in my notice.

I've never heard the factory so quiet as the echo of my boots hitting the steel steps soars throughout the factory, I find my way to Norman's office which he has left open. With a courtesy knock on the door, I step inside. "Nor...er, Brian... Everything ok? I'm glad I caught you whilst there's no one else here" He continues staring blankly at the wall without even acknowledging my presence - as still as a statue. It's concerning as I've never seen the man this quiet unless his mother is having a go at him. It's unusual that she's not here, barking orders and stinking the place out of piss. I almost ask where she is until I start piecing it all together - she's not here, she's old as fuck and Norman is silent and looks like he could burst out crying at any minute. After a 40 minute long, drawn out conversation with Brian, he proceeds to tell me that he found his mother cold in the morning. Just to keep everything 'normal' he somehow drove to work in the state of mind he was in but he couldn't keep it together and didn't even call the workers in to start their shift like he usually does. It's a strange but yet, in an almost twisted way comforting that Brian is just the same as anyone else. It's like before, we all pictured him as a robot who just ate, drank and slept this company. I've never had a conversation that doesn't involve work with this man, he is human after all. I struggle to comprehend what he's telling me, to find your mother dead in the morning - you've been so close to her all your life, for her just to be gone one morning. No warning, no signs of it happening, just gone. I comfort Brian the best I can, but there's no amount of sympathy or pats on the back that will make him feel any better - or bring his dead mum back to life. It sounds cruel to say, but I just wanted to get out of there, just hand my notice in and leave. To be fair, in the state of mind he's in, he wouldn't notice if I just left and never came back, but I just couldn't. I'm subtly pleased when our conversation gets interrupted by Caroline - the company arse - kisser, this is my escape, my way downstairs to be the gossip for once and to let everyone know what's happened - in the most sympathy filled, concerned and compassionate way I can obviously...

I decide not to tell them I'm leaving and just continue to work. We all had that day off, but the rest of the week, things continued as normal. Things were strange for a while, I'd actually feel sorry for Brian as everyday he'd get concerning looks from the old women that worked there, constantly reminded about her from employees that have been there years. He did get better, it took him time but he got back on the horse and became even more focused on work - if that was possible. It's almost like Barbara dying was a way for him to finally 'cut the apron strings' and do as he pleases without being told how to do it better by his ancient mother. My work mates and I never brought up the name "Norman Bates" again, we never mentioned that we were wrong to be saying all the scenarios we came up with, we just brushed all those previous discussions under the carpet and continued on as we did before. Work quickly became more of a chore as Brian gave us 23% more production to do per week - I can't help but feel tied to the job now as I constantly feel pressured at work to produce as much as I physically can. It's an eye opener to the situation I'm in, it's now not a place to laugh and joke, it's work. I come in, do my hours and go home. Hopefully one day I'll gain the ambition back to travel, but at the moment, I feel absolutely stuck in the place I am, I know once I'm older or settled with children and *can't* travel any more for whatever reason, I'll regret this decision, but for this moment in time, I'm remaining in this job. I know my place and realise I have to be realistic in my career decisions.

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