A Dream Job, right?

"I am not a quitter, but ..."

Everyone has a bad day at work. Right? It does not really matter whether you are a baker, a butcher, a candlestick maker or - as in my case a PR consultant. Once a blue moon everyone leaves their office cursing like a sailor - because the boss was extra-bitchy, the clients were even more challenging than usual or simply because the new computers decided not to function properly that day. But sometimes it is more than that. More than the usual drag and your gut tells you - more like screams at you - to put in your 2-weeks-notice.

Granted I work in a competitive industry and my job requires a broad set of skills. It doesn't just take a university degree. In order to become successful you need to be an excellent communicator and a good researcher, an engaging writer and a creative outside-of-the-box thinker. Those are the bare facts everybody always stresses in job interviews, online or even in the mostly boring how-to-become-a-successful-XXX-texts. But I clearly remember the job interview (with a boss who took a chance on me, but left 3 weeks into my first month): All those opportunities I was supposed to get all those seminars and skills I was supposed to pick up on the job - early responsibility.

Reality is quite different. On most days there is no room for creativity. You write 13.000-word-text once and for every other text, you are supposed to copy and paste. Simply because there is no time to do it right. There is no time to find the story and tell it or even look at the subject matter from a different angle.  Afterwards, you make sure the clients’ comments didn't butcher the whole thing too badly. Or - worst case scenario – require you rewrite the whole thing again. You chuck out text after text, knowing it's not your best work, but nobody cares as long as the job gets done. There are no pauses, no time to think on what you are writing or doing, no time for an analysis - because time is money. And our clients don't pay us for thinking - they pay us for results, published articles in newspapers and magazines. Writing is part of my job, a big one. But it is no longer fun or easy. I do it because I have to, my entire existence relies on the fact that I can put words on a page. I am no longer writing about things that interest me, subjects I care about. I write about hair and extensions. I write new cars, teeth, furniture etc. etc. - not because I like it or I am interested in it, but because the client wants that. And even if I find a topic interesting, it doesn't automatically mean writing about it on a Monday morning is going to be easy. It's hard word. Every day.

Of course that's not all. A typical day in my life involves anything from hitting the phones in the morning and pitching a story into the media to client calls and developing new ideas for social media content. And most of the time that is fine, but then it's Friday, the end of the week and you just want to enjoy the prospect of free time. 

But it's a Friday - the week before Easter, one collegue ist out sick, the boss took a vacation, another collegue works only 24 hours every week and never on Fridays. One collegue is a trainee who has just started working and than there ist me with a To-Do-List a mile long, a magazine to get out on time, 5 texts to write, two status reports, various marketing materials to create, cooperations with influencers to see through, invite people to a congess, a symposium or whatever, a new client to meet and a report on that meeting to write - all while the telephone keeps on ringing. All while I am cursing my boss to high heaven who not only scheduled her vacation when another colleague had scheduled her operation and signed off on another colleagues week-long get-away the next week, but because we have 5 new clients.

In truth when I first started my job it didn't take long for me to doubt my choice. In first three months felt as if I was drawing, during the feedback discussion after six months my boss made me cry, during my feedback discussion after a year my colleague told me "apparently this is the way you tick and it worked". And now another year has gone by:  I am exhausted, physically and mentally - both ends of the candle are burning. And the weekends are no longer enough to recharge the batteries. In fact I am not entirely sure if the battery is still functioning properly. There are days I dread going to work. There are nights, when sleep is elusive and my blood pressure is too high or too low. There are days I come back home after 8, 5 hours crying, utterly frustrated with another zero-accomplishment-day. Sometimes I am angry at it all. Sometimes I ask myself, why I still care so much. Sometimes my chest constricts - it feels like an elephant is sitting on top of my breastbone, making it difficult to breathe. Anxiety? Probably. A lot of times I fall into a state of melancholy. 

I am not alone. I know that - people are quitting all the time. Even the woman how hired me went on to greener pastures. It's as my boss always says: "You chose your job. If you don't like it, quit. You either sink or swim." All the while you’re being fed other quite utilitarian company lines "everybody is exchangeable", "as a trainee, what you are told should become your mantra" and my personal favourite about writing "we know what we are doing, if I tell you to write it differently, then you do it, no questions asked."