If you don’t ever get a period in your day-to-day working life when you yearn for change, escape or a job which has less stress, more holidays or a free breakfast, lunch and dinner policy like Google, you are probably one of those over-optimistic Pollyanna types.
I’m not, which is no surprise as qualifications in cynicism, with an essential skill of complaining, is practically a CV must-have for any journalist.
More than a decade into my career it is very well embedded (note to aspiring trainees, do not say this in an interview…).
But it is inevitable we all desire or chase change, as the grass always seems greener and the perks, well perkier, on the other side – and sometimes maybe they are.
However on those days when you feel murderous intent towards your largely charming colleagues and despair so deep it drives you to the nearest vending machine for overpriced snacks or to jabbing violently at your keyboard with an energy that would be fabulous if replicated at the gym, (I’d be so slim..) you just need to cast your mind back to your first job.
Unless you were Little Lord Fauntleroy or Little Miss Lady Muck, it is unlikely you escaped a truly horrible first job (or selection of first jobs) to which you would rather poke out your eyes than return.
I certainly ‘enjoyed’ my fair share as (appropriately) paper girl on the scariest housing estate ever (think large, teeth-baring dogs), chief 10-hour plate washer upper /skivvy in the hottest restaurant kitchen on earth.
Picking poo out of the pool as a lifeguard. Shifts on the production line at the Jaffa Cake factory where I showed absolutely no promise as a speed chocolate-applier.
And most memorably my now infamous stint as a Power Ranger, peddling family friendly shows across Australia clad in nonporous spandex material in temperatures topping 40 degrees.
I certainly wouldn’t go back so let’s face it – it could be worse.
Next time you trot off to kick a wall or pay 65p for a packet of crisps, remember, you could be a sweaty Pink Ranger.