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caddymanI have a touch of arthritis or rheumatism in my right hip. I'm not sure what the difference is and the dictionary was singularly unhelpful on the point. I’m reasonably sure that it’s not rheumatoid arthritis since that appears in the dictionary along with the word chronic and this isn’t as far as I know, chronic. It is annoying, though, and it makes me feel about a thousand years old.
I find myself to be increasingly lethargic in the office and I have to summon up deeper reserves of motivation to get anything done. This is a little annoying since I have quite a lot to do. I think I feel the need for a change coming on. There is a vague yearning for a desk with a different view and a different pile of pointless papers. What I really need is to win the lottery, I think, but there you are. I have more chance of meeting thin Elvis than making money on the lottery. I was in a (now defunct) syndicate for years. At the height of our membership, I think we had eleven of us and that meant we had 11 lines a week. Latterly, before the final demise of the group it was down to about seven members and lines each week. In the ten years we operated I would be surprised if we won more than £200 in total and never more than £10 in any single week.
There is a job being advertised on promotion which I may go for. I’m not sure it’s my cup of tea, but it is a step up the ladder and an area I know something about. Part of my motivation for considering it is financial and part is due to my simmering resentment at finding out that two people I know have been promoted by two grades in a single leap simply for working in ministerial offices. I know both people and though I like them, I am not convinced that they are Grade 7 material yet at least.
I thought that I was inured to the inequities of the system, but sometimes it just bites you on the arse when you least expect it to.
I suspect that I should be less bothered and rather more sanguine if a) my hip hurt less and b) we were getting a pay rise even close to the inflation rate.
I want to go home.
Grumble.
I find myself to be increasingly lethargic in the office and I have to summon up deeper reserves of motivation to get anything done. This is a little annoying since I have quite a lot to do. I think I feel the need for a change coming on. There is a vague yearning for a desk with a different view and a different pile of pointless papers. What I really need is to win the lottery, I think, but there you are. I have more chance of meeting thin Elvis than making money on the lottery. I was in a (now defunct) syndicate for years. At the height of our membership, I think we had eleven of us and that meant we had 11 lines a week. Latterly, before the final demise of the group it was down to about seven members and lines each week. In the ten years we operated I would be surprised if we won more than £200 in total and never more than £10 in any single week.
There is a job being advertised on promotion which I may go for. I’m not sure it’s my cup of tea, but it is a step up the ladder and an area I know something about. Part of my motivation for considering it is financial and part is due to my simmering resentment at finding out that two people I know have been promoted by two grades in a single leap simply for working in ministerial offices. I know both people and though I like them, I am not convinced that they are Grade 7 material yet at least.
I thought that I was inured to the inequities of the system, but sometimes it just bites you on the arse when you least expect it to.
I suspect that I should be less bothered and rather more sanguine if a) my hip hurt less and b) we were getting a pay rise even close to the inflation rate.
I want to go home.
Grumble.