Bored meeting

I'm bored. 


Very bored.


Quite stressed as well since you ask. You didn't? Don't walk away, well not for the moment anyway. I'm also a little lonely, could do with a chat.


Have you read any Charles Handy? He's very good. I've read all his books. Actually I've read a lot of books, many of them at work. Not a lot else to do most days. I have an unspoken contract with my employer, in the public sector. They pretend to pay me and I pretend to work.


Charles Handy then. He wrote that an individual feels his/her role definition is out of line with his self-concept when he/she has a capacity to handle a bigger role or greater set of roles. An individual suffers a rude shock (I should say, I was very rude when I was offered this job) which in the opinion of the individual is well below their capacity. Role underload, continues Mr Handy, is the form of role conflict which most threatens an individual's self concept. It is the most insidious, but most ignored, perverter of organisational efficiency. 


It also destroys one's sense of self worth, undermines your confidence, causes teeth grinding on an epic scale (that dental hygienists love) eats into the very fabric of your soul causing you to diminish slightly every day as you have to deal with people in the organisation who have less experience but are paid substantially more. And also are your manager. And then you take it home with you. The cat runs out of the house now in a Pavlovian reaction to my kicking it on arrival (no I don't, I don't have a cat or any pet - it's my little joke).


Other than that I have a lot of fun. 


No I don't. 


I'm years away from retirement, need to work so my family can eat and live in a very privileged area where just about everyone earns more than me. I am fed up. I loathe coming to work. I leave on time, to the minute. I've never done that before.


I blogged about being unemployed (www.copingwithredundancy.blogspot.com). Now join me in my world of the poorly paid, underemployed. Or, as Marvin the Paranoid Android says 'Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and they ask me to take you to the bridge. Call that job satisfaction, 'cause I don't.'


I've just had a look on ebay -sadly they don't sell flaming brands and pitchforks because all of us in this position, and there must be thousands out there, should be walking down the streets of London asking just where the jobs are for us? 


Because we are over 50 we seem to be written off, ignored, become invisible. And I was told there was a Father Christmas.