It’s no secret that I get paid extremely little. I’m not even taking into account all the professional qualifications I have. I get paid minimum wage and the only reason I can live off it is because I work a heap of hours and I am extremely frugal. Life is a constant financial struggle.
I am not complaining. I always say that I chose this lifestyle and the job satisfaction is so worth it for me. But lately the joy has gone out of it and when that happens, the low wages really rankle. Yesterday I got one of the classic comments “You have the best job in the world”, and I had to bite my lip very hard. Then she followed up with “I can’t believe you get paid to have so much fun! I wish I had your job. You are so lucky!”
Yes, there is so much fun involved with sitting in over degree temps every day, micromanaging time schedules, pouring drinks for other people, nagging about water drinking, hurrying people up, apologising for pretty much everything, just because I am on the spot and therefore, it is clearly my responsibility.
Getting paid for having so much fun? I couldn’t help myself, “Well, if makes you feel any better, I get paid extremely little. Less than my 16 year old kitchenhand daughter, in fact.”
In six weeks, we are moving yards. My commute time will double, my fuel costs go up. My days behind a wheel (be it my own car or the buses) will go from nine and a half to at least eleven. I will be a danger to others and myself on the roads. The end is coming.