Why I can’t do creative things
Seven years working in this marketing job without a hint of job satisfaction since the first two weeks of his starting there. Adrian was the sort of everyman that aspiring writers across the globe wanted to weave into the centre of their novels; to paint the quiet agony of the faceless drone and represent the father figure that gradually detached from his family.
Adrian begs to differ.
He is twenty-eight years old, thriving in a studio apartment and has martinis for lunch every Friday with some of his closet marketing colleagues. Ketel One. Two olives impaled on a toothpick. Stirred.
Ok, so the job satisfaction part was an over-generalisation. Adrian says it needs to be divided into two things:
- satisfaction derived from doing his job
- satisfaction derived from doing things whilst at job
He hasn’t felt the first kind of satisfaction since he cold-called a client and got them onboard for a meeting to start a blah blah campaign. Since then, he has learnt to hate all the company’s clients and express pessimism and hatred at their backs. The second kind comes in pathetic doses of freshly-ground coffee, a new photocopier and staring lecherously at Katie when she joins the crowd for Martini Friday.