Welcome Back To The Office

I'm working again.

6am: The melodic ring of my alarm goes off. I search half-awake, vision still blurry, for my vibrating phone to quiet the alarm.

Photo by Alexandre Debiève on Unsplash

I hear the drone of the coffee machine as my flatmate makes her morning brew while her cat meows signalling that she wants her morning feed.

It’s still dark outside. It’s the earliest I’ve been awake in the last four months since I packed up my life in New Zealand and boarded a flight to the UK in search of work.

An early alarm's abrupt, sharp beeping would usually be met with a groan and frantic searching for the snooze button. After three months of unemployment, and dwindling savings, the smooth melody of my wake-up call has me almost bounding out of bed in anticipation for the commute.

Coffee brewed, I slurp down the piping hot cup of caffeine while slapping on makeup - without any skill - to try and hide the eye bags that have, these days, turned a bluish colour.

Trying to tame the hair scorched by London’s infamous hard water, I relent and pop it in a bun. I resolve to be confident with my greys despite fighting the urge to pluck them from the roots.

Fit check. Average. It will have to do, I’ve got a train to catch.

Today, I’m finally reentering the land of the employed. After my exile, I feel like I’m joining an exclusive club.

A club where the water cooler talk revolves around how awful the commute is, how your boss has overloaded you with work, and how “crazy” your colleague is.

I should be feeling the monotony of working, but it feels electric.

I’m finally tasting what it’s like to work again.

Is it the dream job I’ve always wanted? No. For those out of work, it’s probably hard to comprehend, but I’m experiencing the privilege of what it means to earn a living.

When you’re locked out of the job market and face constant rejections, being able to work—or even complain about it—feels like an immense honour.

This season, the panic, anxiety, and battering of self-esteem, has been a brutal instructor - a workshop on how tentative our lives are.

Now, I cringe when I overhear someone whining about not getting paid more, lacking purpose, or being required to be in the office.

I think of how they’re tempting fate.

“But it could all be taken from you?” I think. I feel secondhand anxiety for them.

I wouldn’t wish unemployment and rejection on my worst enemy, but at times I wonder if we would check our privilege more if for a moment employment was taken from us…

5.30pm: I shut my laptop screen. I grab my coat and bag and head out into the cold amid the sea of black coats.

On the train, I close my tired, dry eyes.

Who knew exhaustion could feel so energising.