“This can’t go on”
This morning I dreamed I was at my shared desk in a dark office. Someone lit up a cigarette. So I stopped and looked for my tobacco and papers. I didn’t know where I’d put them.
Then I remembered my boss and colleagues would be back after the weekend, and I had not contacted a single sales prospect.
The dread of unmet obligation to achieve my sales target returned. I felt it hammer me.
‘This can’t go on! I will resign, get me a new job’
In stages I began to realise.
I gave up smoking (in 1994), and I no longer work in an office (since 2010), and I am not awake, but dreaming it all.
The stresses and trauma involved in the 9 to 5 obligation to provide, to produce, to submit at any cost is the lot of millions.
I worked 42 years. I retired eight short years ago.
I remind myself daily how I had to tear my eyes away from the flock of aerobatic pigeons admired through the office window, while pledging to myself that, once retired, I would be sure to rejoice in my freedom to stare at pigeons.
And I do! I rejoice and am thankful. Nightmares notwithstanding