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Published: June 22nd 2012
So here I am, 24 years old, homeowner and married to my high school sweetheart. I’ve been doing property administration for 6 years now. I started my newest job in February 2012, after a week trip my husband and I took to Dubai. It was a new office opening up in London. In the interview they sold it to me well as: “the office is located in a very cute little village type area, people are friendly, great atmosphere…”. However when I got here, I was quickly reassured that what they meant was: “The office is located in the armpit of London, the people are nosey and there’s a mental institution about 5 minutes north of here”.
I am leaving you for Latimer Road. It’s not you, it’s me. I am afraid of change and yet moved by it and once my company was taken over, I feared the worst and jumped ship before I had a chance to appreciate you. My bad.
Sincere apologies, (please take me back)
But it was too late. I had started my new job in fear for my safety and hating a few of my colleagues who were even lazier than the last bunch.
One day I was the new office on my own when a lady came in asking for details on a few sales properties. I apologised to her and explained that I’m not in sales, I am an administrator but I would do my best to help her as much as I could. Her response: “Oh ok so all you know how to do is type e-mails, answer phones and work the fax machine”.
“Oh no she didn’t! Shavonne say something....Anything!!!!....Tell her you’re so much more than that!! Aren’t you? Do you know how to do anything else? Have you ever done anything worth arguing with her for?....ah, you’ve wasted your life. Brava!” (clap, clap, clap)
Instead I sheepishly laughed and stupidly agreed with her. And that was it. That was the moment when I felt the craving for the travel drug rise from the pit of my stomach to my hair follicles. I picture it like a game of Tetras. Piece by piece being built up, my rational forcing it back to a low point, moulding and stabilizing the person I think I should be. Then finally letting the pieces pile back up again, until I am forced to hold my hands up, admit defeat and quit playing games.
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