Imagine the set of a terrible sitcom set in the 1970's featuring a load of belligerent and disgruntled factory workers and their out of touch boss. The walls are white woodchip and the shelves are full of nonsense.
I share it with a gentleman called Matt Spooner. He, like myself, is a cynical Samaritan.
We both want to help people but, in the modern workplace, that really isn't enough anymore. It's about ticking boxes and jumping through hoops to ensure that people I'll never meet make more money than I'll ever see in a lifetime.
I think that's the problem with teaching in this kind of training provider context.
Everything is done to make money, not to help people out. I'm pretty sure that my cynical side has flourished more in two years here than it did during six years teaching young offenders.
Anyhow what's the point of this one?
There isn't a point I don't think. Writing just stops me thinking. I think that's why I'm doing it. I've not got a point or a message but sometimes I wonder if there always has to be one.
When I first started writing I would ponder for hours over drafts of different text. I'm not saying I don't edit things now but I often find that when I switch off a little bit that the best stuff happens. It's hard to define best . I think I mean writing that's a more accurate reflection of where I currently am.
It's Friday and
As I was writing this my boss walked in and gave me something menial to do so I look busy. It's the inference that I'm somehow mutinous that I resent the most I think.
Anyhow I digress.
I hope you people have a great weekend.
Thanks for taking the time