“So what?! You complain that your head is hurting but you keep hitting your head with a hammer? Why don’t you quit your job?"

My job - a thing I complain about constantly, something that I’ve blamed for not being fulfilling enough and running me down. I try not to talk about it but it is very hard in Sweden where it is of great importance to know what everybody is doing with their lives. Are you a fucking failure or are you not? That is the essential question.

I work for a company that provides other big companies with facility services, i.e. everything from janitors, receptionists, restaurants to property administration. I’m the only employee of 3000 who works as a sort of consultant on longer or shorter projects in different departments and companies. The projects are reorganising or changing work routines within groups making them more efficient and also teaching people about being more service minded.

In real life this means:
I tell people they need to be on time for work (and I can’t wake up in the morning);
I tell they need to dress “appropriately” (I HATE dressing “appropriately”);
I tell people to look nice and neat (oh, dear I haven’t brushed my hair in a month or worn make-up in three);
I talk about the importance of sometimes acting a part to be able to always smile and be professional (but I LOVE telling people off and being rudely honest?!);
I also teach people how to make their days more efficient and fill them maximally (and I can’t even make my personal life tick, spending most weekends in bed, staring at the dust balls in the corners of my room);
I draw plans on creating ergonomic workspaces and solve logistic problems by having practical things built. (But solving my own logistical problems - not having a driving license - is practically impossible);
I tell the staff it’s important to exercise, have a healthy lunch and real breaks. (And here I am getting an ulcer from not eating lunch and working overtime);

It is a surprise to me that I am as good at my job as I am - somehow I am a success, I seduce them, I impress people and the bosses lick my toes; and I couldn’t figure out how or why I coped with it - until just now.

What I just realised was that it is all a play for me - an act at the theatre.
I grew up in the theatre - backstage working with props, as a stage technician and later a stage manager. Its 8 years since I did a play and I miss it terribly - there is a special smell of burnt dust backstage that I dream about and the tense silence the second before curtain goes up is magic… (Can you hear the violins?)

So what I’ve done instead, is make my own little theatre in the office environment I hate so much. The office has become my stage; the staff is the stage crew and the audience is the customer.

And theatre reality is:
One needs to be on time for the opening curtain;
It is easier to tell the audience you are a dog - if your make-up and dress is that of a dog;
You need good routines to keep the show going;
One needs to build a good set and be efficient for the best and safest possible stage environment;
And if you are a success the audience will lick your toes or at least applaud.

So back to the question a friend put to me last night, after I complained of the worst head ache in ten years - which was “Why don’t you quit?!” He is entirely right of course - I am bludgeoning myself with a sledgehammer - but at the moment, the job I have, is the closest thing to doing what was my dream.

And I am great at it - so I am not a fucking failure.