A family member laughs: "this is what it feels like to work, Joke. Better get used to it." Ugh. That's exactly why they are family and not friends. I've been working as a saleswoman in a crazy busy shop, emptying customers wallets with the biggest smile. "Never again will I work for a billion dollar company," I said last year, when Lush fired all seasonal workers before any contract was finished. Surprise! Here is a bath bomb, enjoy and merry Christmas!
After working mostly legally the past year, and with six out of twelve months, double as much as usual, I think I'm becoming part of the rat race. As soon as I arrived in Belgium, I was writing motivational letters and handing out resumes. Opening my arms to anyone who wanted to hire me. The sooner, the better! Let's get to work! What else was I going to do? I am starting my own little business, yes. And I have a couple of books in my head which need to get printed on paper. But how do I explain that? That I don't want to work full time selling my soul for minimum wage? Instead, I would fill my days with 24 hours of writing and creating teas!
I've always had a love-hate relationship with work. I love it, because it brings some kind of structure in my chaotic life and mind. Meeting new people, learning skills, supporting someone's dream, all great! Until every day starts to feel the same and you realise: routine is here! Killer of all dreams. As a dreamer, this is when it gets dangerous. A full time contract is offered, and I'm looking for a place to live. I'm staying in Belgium! I'm actually getting excited!
Until I calculate rent prices, bills and salary and how crazy much I would have to work just to live. So I booked a ticket to Spain instead.
Hasta la vista, baby!
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