Sometimes I think about utopias. A world where everyone has rosy cheeks, pockets full of cherries and a heart full of purpose – a job they don’t gnash their teeth over. Is there such thing as the perfect job?
Dear God (who I only half-believe exists), I ask for little. I have never asked for world peace or other impossible Miss Universe demands. I once asked you in year 5 for the next day to be sunny for a school excursion, another time I begged you to get rid of the tickle in my throat. And now I ask you, can I please be not one of those people who hate their jobs? Why do I have to be the majority when I’d much prefer to be the smilier, care-free bunch?
All I ask is for a job which I:
-Don’t have to get up earlier than 7am for
-Work later than 6pm at.
– Get to do a range of jobs
-Not work the weekends
-Not be overworked or understaffed
-Get paid reasonably alright
-Feel respected and appreciated
-Do not have to recieve an onslaught from the general public’s complaints every day
-Find the work interesting enough, purposeful.
These things should not be a utopian dream, but it feels like one.