Six Months in the City

Damn Conscience

Sally Sellout — Wed, 12 Dec 2007 15:28:05 +0000

Dammit I could easily down tools and fuck off come 4.30pm this Friday, however there a couple of small things to be done, not to mention that fact that we’ll be trying to pretend I’m still PM on a major project until the new year, so I need to be available via mobile for a few days next week. I have however told them I will not be attending the office, I’ll be ‘working from home’ and I do use that term in the loosest possible sense…

14:32

Sally Sellout — Thu, 06 Dec 2007 15:00:31 +0000

Now that my exit is secured and imminent (gawd bless them hard nosed city types for specifying a one week notice period during the probation period..) time is not standing still as is traditional in these situations, it actually appears to be moving backwards.

In order to inject some activity between the mutinae of other tasks (filing my nails, picking my nose, emailing friends, daydreaming), I hereby initiate an overdue series to be tagged ‘twattery’.

And so to the twat in question; he has a quite normal name, however I will refer to him as Idiot. Idiot is currently sitting across from me playing on his laptop, every 30 seconds or so he emits an extremely annoying mmm sound. This, however, is the least of his sins. Witness the following exchange:

Idiot: sooo ah I’ve been talking to some people at X and X putting the word out.

Boss (blank look): I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Idiot: talking to a couple of guys i know about stuff we have on

Boss: oh, you mean here at the company?

Idiot: yeah, of course the first thing I have to do is set up a beer with those guys, haven’t seen them in ages.

Boss: walks off

Annnnnnnd……relax!

Sally Sellout — Wed, 05 Dec 2007 15:21:46 +0000

It’s the little signs really; the fact that I could be in the office a whole day without smiling once. My friends comments about how down I’ve seemed, my boyfriends comment that he had been worried that my bad mood was a permanent state of being, the insomnia and of course the drinking to forget.

It’s done now, my resignation has been tendered and I can feel my brow beginning to unfurrow as the minutes tick past, perhaps I won’t need that botox injection after all…

So its goodbye fancy salary, goodbye to wearing suits and proper shoes and hello average salary, hello more than 5 hours sleep per night and wearing jeans and converse every day.

Another day, another dollar

Sally Sellout — Mon, 03 Dec 2007 08:49:55 +0000

Well actually quite a bit more than a dollar if i’m honest, particularly with the dollar being so worthless these days.

So I get paid – a lot…its the nature of the city you see. You turn up, file your nails, type a few emails, make a few calls and thats it, off you trot in your clacky heels back down the tube with a be-squillion other carefully coiffed clones.

City girls don’t pay rent, no, no, no. They have their standard issue sugar daddies to do that for them. You know the type, 10-15 years older, a whiff of desparation about them and a pathetically grateful attitude despite the fact that most of the ‘girls’ are just a whisker away from middle age themselves. Sure they scrub up well, but lets face it, they’re 35 year olds trying to look 25, their sugar daddies are their last chance and they’re going to hang on to them as tight as they can.

So anyway, I digress, here’s the question – say I was offered another job which is further away from home and pays £15k less than my brand new city job, but is in an industry I actually like, doing work I actually enjoy, should I take it?

Six months in the city? Six weeks more like!

Ooooh, bouncy!

Sally Sellout — Tue, 27 Nov 2007 16:51:52 +0000

Today someone IM’d me to ask me if I knew of any project managers wanting to jump ship. It was all i could do not to shout – take me! I will be your media causal project manager lackey! I will dress in jeans, drink in trendy bars, and get paid peanuts – I live for that shit… Then I remembered, I have a job, so I said email me the details and I’ll see what I can do.

Is it a bad sign that I just spent the last 30 minutes repeatedly bouncing a stress ball against my desk whilst clock watching?

Ode to the salesman

Sally Sellout — Tue, 27 Nov 2007 16:13:23 +0000

Salesman, thy art strong and thick,
like a tree.

Your back is of steel, or must be to withstand
the backslapping and mutual appreciation.

Your ears be weak. Do you not hear
the things they say as you leave the room?

Thy heart be fickle, you’d sell your firstborn
for a quick buck.

Your coat is high shine,
in order that responsibility slides from your shoulders

Your drinking arm is overdeveloped
for schmoozing is a job requirement.

Salesman, waiting for your ship to come in,
it’s been and gone not a half hour ago….

Join us….

Sally Sellout — Fri, 16 Nov 2007 11:40:33 +0000

If the folk around here all look like they have been up for hours and hours already, it’s probably because they have. I imagine that after a day of trading virtual money all over the world and several hours of draining bottles of Bollinger they head home to their one room city apartments and count their piles of cash (which are obviously just lying about the place) before retiring to their perch to hang upside down for a few hours. Come the early hours they’ll disengage from that perch and head back into the heart of the city to suck the life blood from our economy for yet another 8-10 hours…

I am surrounded by the living dead. Having sold my own soul to get here would account for the sleepless nights I’ve been enduring of late.

Sell out

Sally Sellout — Fri, 16 Nov 2007 10:57:46 +0000

When you stumble upon a new job which offers you substantially more in the way of remuneration than the last one, it stands to reason that you’ll leap before you look. You’ll quit your job, buy a suit and complete the paperwork stating your arse now belongs to the city, your soul – to the devil.