If you missed it, I have been trying to live my life to a strict set of rules in the hope that it would be the foundation that would launch me to my timely thesis completion. Of course I was never going to be able to carry this off. I was always going to fall off the wagon. So it happened. Once I broke one rule, I engaged in a two-week long rule-breaking orgy. For the record, I broke rules 1,3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10 & 11.
So the rules are gone. I am not giving £100 for each infringement, no way. I’m counting the whole binge as one infringement and I’m binning the rules. On the positive side though, as of today, I sponsor a guide dog puppy! £128, once gift aid is counted, will be going to train a guide dog puppy. So the fact that I am a complete idiot has had a beneficial impact on the Earth. I like dogs with jobs, what can I say?
Gift AId? I hear you ask. Aren’t you a tax-dodging, scumbag perma-student? Someone who hasn’t had a real job in your entire parasitic life? Someone who has free-wheeled through 22 years of continuous full-time education?
Well yes, that’s true. However, I must retort that I have flirted with employment over the years, I worked a series of low-rank jobs as an undergrad. The jobs I’ve had can be summarised as follows:
- Making sandwiches in a Maltese guy (Paco’s) attempted rip-off of Pret a Manger, which hadn’t made it to Scotland yet. It used to be in Royal Exchange Square.
- Mopping tables, deep-frying things and washing dishes in Littlewood’s Catalogue Café. Where a wee old lady once beckoned me near, only to whisper in my ear: Tell me son, what’s it like daein’ women’s work?
- Making desserts and salads as kitchen bitch in Paul’s Creekside Grill high in the Colorado Rockies. Best job ever. Highlight was at the end of the season when we all got too drunk to stand, then had to serve 120 Harley-riding bikers + significant others who descended on the empty restaurant.
- Working as the sole cook, bottlewasher and waiter in Cooper’s Bar in Glasgow Central Station. Twelve hour shifts that started at seven in the morning, blech! I famously fell down the steps outside my dad’s house twice after one of those shifts.
- Serving drinks to the loathsome clientele of the Glasgow University Union.
- Making pizzas and grilled breakfasts and lunches in the deservedly world-unreknowned Restaurant Horace in Sherbrooke, Québec.
- Serving drinks at weddings and funerals in the Busby Hotel.
- Working on a worm farm in Northern Ireland.
Since 2004 I have been like a siamese cat, sponsored by a company to produce a thesis. It has many of the dressings of professional life, like sitting in an office, and getting paid. At the end of the day I’ve been a postgrad student though, with all the total lack of direction and responsibilities that entails.
No more. At the end of the month this comfortable sinecure ends, and I am scheduled to be thrown into the real world as metaphorically naked and defenceless as the day I was born. This has been a worry for some time. Luckily last week I got the job I was after. As of the 6th of October I will be living and working in London for a company who specialise in the very subject I have been researching for the last 3-4 years. They will own be body and soul, and I am sure will work me very hard.