I should be working. I really should be working but instead
I’m writing this.
I’m self-employed and throughout the ten years of being an
employee, this was my dream. The thought of being able to take a day off
whenever I liked was incredibly appealing, especially when I was sitting at my
desk from 9am until 5.30pm every day. Back in those days the highlight of my
working week was leaving the office and finding that the Seagulls had shat all
over my car. Just to liven things up, everyone in the department where I
worked, used to illegally park their cars right at the front of the building.
If you ever want to see a group of individuals move exceedingly quickly, get
everyone’s attention, silently count to ten really slowly then announce that you’ve
just seen the traffic warden. This job was bad for my health because I was also
fat while I was there. Scotch pie with coffee at 10am, followed by half a pack
of indigestion tablets, eat the lunch that you made at home and order pizza at
3pm because you were still starving. We should have been sponsored by Rennies.
So, no more do I have to think of an excuse to go home
early, I can choose to finish work whenever I like. Actually, that’s not quite
true. You see, no one told me that when you become self-employed you develop a
phobia regarding having no work. Consequently, you will find yourself with the
presence of mind where it is impossible to turn work away. In the days when I
was an employee, I thought with glee that if I worked for myself I could take
the whole of Cheltenham week off, so I could
sit every afternoon and watch the racing. I hate to admit this but every
Cheltenham Festival of Racing since I became self employed, I have managed to
watch one afternoon of racing, ducking between my desk and the television.
I don’t mind telling you that the cost of stationery was a
bit of a shocker as well. Envelopes are in fact very expensive, costing more
than gold, and you have to buy your own cellotape. No more printing the addresses
on your Christmas card envelopes and quietly shuffling them into the mail heap.
Pens cost money too. This was a surprise as I thought that they just appeared
on your desk. Printer ink isn’t cheap and therefore I don’t print half as many
photographs, calendars, party invites, leaflets, labels, random pictures from
the internet, fake parking tickets, newsletters or posters since I became
self-employed. You have to empty your own bin. This is perhaps why my bin is so
full that I’ve just had to press my foot into it to try and make some space for
the bloody empty ink cartridge that my printer has just depleted. Lunch can
also be problematic. I can assure you that knowing exactly what is in the
fridge takes all the fun out of lunchtime. Usually, I open the fridge door
stare aimlessly at the contents for half a minute before closing the door and
having a Cup a Soup and a packet of crisps.
There is a comfort in going to the same office every day,
knowing what time you need to get up and what time you need to leave the house.
There’s the magic that happens when you stay at your desk after the Office has closed.
Suddenly your hourly rate shoots up and you are earning time and a half. And
then half way through the month someone deposits your salary into your bank
account, without the need for you to sit down and physically prepare an
invoice. Have you ever seen a Mechanic’s car? It’s usually held together with
gaffer tape and you have to lie underneath it to poke something into the engine
to get it to start. Well that’s a bit like an Administrator’s invoicing system.
Ask me to file your invoices and I will check that you want them in alpha
numerical fashion and crack on, but my own administration? Well, maybe best not
to go there. I have also found that I have become a jack of all trades and
master of absolutely none. When people ask me what I do for a living, I have to
think for a minute and then list off some of the jobs I do in the fashion of a
six year old telling you about a day trip to Lego Land.
One of the downsides to working for yourself is that if you
don’t go to work, you don’t get paid. None of this holiday pay malarkey for us
who strive out on our own. And that’s an arse. There is no office banter for
those who choose to work alone with only the company of the radio but at least we
have opportunity to churn out three loads of washing and are available to sign
for that parcel that’s being delivered on Tuesday, sometime between 8am and
6pm. I wouldn’t swop my working conditions for anything and if you are
considering becoming your own boss; do your research and go for it. You won’t
regret it.
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