Work, part 1 of a 213 part series on money and graft.

It was always understood and accepted by myself that I should be working. For a long time it was one of my biggest stressors, I viewed it as that no one would pay me to do anything then I wasn't worth anything, very literally my self worth was tied into how much I was (or wasn't earning). It was probably this area that should've given me my biggest clue that something wasn't quite right with me, however I'd very much absorbed the idea that I was lazy and useless so it felt natural that I should have the problems I was having. 

I think I did a good half dozen bitty jobs before I was 25:

• McDonalds. This was my first ever job when I was 17, in a shopping center on Ancoats street in Manchester. I got it through PA as his mums friend worked there. I manage to last a whole 2 weeks before I quit. I remember the first week was ok but finding some of the staff a little difficult, half of them were wannabe gangster if memory serves me well and they were the types of people I'd never met before. I felt uneasy being there and didn't fit in at all. When it came to the third week I couldn't cope with going back in again, it was too much, so i concocted the excuse that my feet hurt from standing. I was shouted at a bit for being lazy and feckless by my dad but that was that.
• Andy's Friend, part of the shed world group!!! Fast forward to 2001; failed university attempts: 1; living arrangement: at home for the worst year of my life. 2001 was horrific so I'll cover that separately. However I got a job through the job center around October/November I think. It was making outbound sales calls for a new start up called Andy's Friends. It was made up nonsense. During the day I'd ring businesses up from a list and asked if they wanted to pay for a searchable web entry (£60). During the evening I'd ring up people form the auto trader and if they hadn't already sold their car I'd put them on another sale site. It was grubby, filthy shit that I loathed and was so Anathema to my soul both in the role and the ethics that I couldn't keep there. I lasted about 4 weeks I remember. My last day involved me being sold a paxil pill for £20 and then after saying I'd quit having to walk home. On the plus side I could smoke in the office. 4 stars, would recommend.
• Temping in 2004/5?. Failed university count: 2; living arrangement: 163 on my own! After being on JSA for a while I went to try and find anything so tried with a few recruitment firms. There was the job that promised me a role in a bank that I knew my CCJ would stop me from getting but I got duped into believing. Eventually office angels posted me to a law office. Where I did photocopying. Of accidents. Including the remnants of someone being crushed by a garage door. It was the night shift which I think was ok, I remember a dude was there who taught me the origins of techno music. I seem to think it was ok but only did a couple of nights for some reason. Next role was being posted to a receptionist at Mind. This one nearly killed me. There was a dude who walked in who told me about the torture he'd been subjected to by LGI, showed me the hole in his head where he'd had a need inserted into his brain and shocked and how he should have died but his brain breathed for itself?? Whole thing was mad and I felt massively underprepared for it. I lasted 2 or 3 days before I just couldn't hack the idea of it anymore and this was the last time I worked for a while. I still remember the layout of the office and the dude with a sunken head. Eughh.