My first office job was the sort you always remember. After some boring and low-paid retail work following university, it was wonderful to start using my brain again whilst getting paid decent money for it. I was solving problems, liaising with interesting people, and working as part of a really great little team. I left that role to move back to Manchester and be with Mr Topper, which was undoubtedly the best move I have ever made, but I realised recently that I have on some level been looking to recreate that job ever since. This month, I thought I’d finally found it.
I’d found the same type of role, at the same sort of institution, in same sort of team. The money offered was no different to what I’m currently on and so there didn’t appear to be a down side. I was shortlisted for an interview and, although it went well on the day, the thought of jacking in my job for that one filled me with so much dread that, when they offered it to me, I turned it down. I thought it was just about the area this job would be based in (a part of London even less appealing than the one I live in), but now I think it’s more than that. Perhaps I’ve finally worked out that I need to go forwards, not back. I can’t find that job again – it’ll never be the same. My boss won’t be as great as Katie, my colleagues won’t be as quirky as Maurice, and the surroundings could never match the wonderful old manor house with a view of the countryside. I’ve realised that my ideal job isn’t all about the job. It’s also about the place… and moving forwards.