since starting a proper job, almost three weeks ago (!), i’ve noticed something odd about the days of the week. they have taken on certain significances that are very different to the ones of a professional diva.
mondays are filled with dread and loathing, mingled with deep regret at having spent the precious weekend lolling in front of the telly box.
tuesdays are hideous mood swings. between feeling lucky at having an actual job and wanting to jump out of the nearest window.
wednesday midday. the optimists are feeling smug that half the week is gone. the pessimists are reaching for the vodka due to the indisputable fact that half the week is still to come.
almost there but still a long way to go. a mistake on thursday could mean a weekend spoiled.
or (blessed are the optimists) that there’s tomorrow to fix it.
how we love friday. friday is the day when you turn round and say ” what the fuck. it can’t possibly be worse by monday”
“two days off”
don’t fall asleep… or you might not wake up until monday. enjoy.
oh. my. god.
two days off.
why the fuck am i awake at 6.30am?
peaceful sunday… shit work tomorrow…what time is it? sunday movies. what time does the last one fini…sh..shhhh
it’s happened. finally, after years of being a professional diva, i have been forced to take a position. and before all you rude people jump to conclusions, i mean i’ve been forced to take a… such an ugly word… job. yes, your favorite diva will be starting work on monday… in an office… with desks and chairs and and and… dare i say it?… bosses.
of course, i have absolutely no idea what they are expecting me to do as i’m sure they’ll be providing an assistant to do the actual work. i’ve booked an early session at the spa for 11 on monday so i should arrive in time for whatever it is they foresee i will be doing. i do hope they won’t be asking me to actually use one of those horrible little PCs that they have. they must realise that a diva only uses a mac?
the pay is appalling. i don’t know how they expect peasants to live on the crumbs they give you, let alone someone like me. but because of this financial crisis bla bla bla my lawyers keep harping on about, it seems that i must accept the pocket money they’re offering with enthusiasm and gratitude. i’ve told them it won’t keep me in underwear, not to mention the (regrettably skeleton) staff i am obliged to maintain. fortunately, they (the minions) have few expectations or ambitions so working for peanuts won’t really bother them.
and what does one wear to this workplace? i suppose i should dress down for the occasion. i don’t want to unleash the full force of the diva on day one. i can’t guard against all the office gossip that will ensue from having a celebrity in the mix but i won’t be the one to hand out the ammunition. oh! that reminds me. i must talk to the head of security at the company. it seems that they let riff-raff just walk in off the streets! haven’t they heard of the paparazzi? or stalkers? or fans? good grief, it’s going to be a long week.
i’m going to lie down. it’s exhausting just thinking about it.
fyi: the title of this post “gissa job” was the catchphrase of the character yosser hughes (bernard hill) from the tv series “boys from the blackstuff” (1982) by alan bleasdale. in case you were wondering…