Various retirement ages?

An interesting idea by somebody using the nick 'makem' appeared as a comment under an article about a proposal not to raise the state pension age as currently intended: "It should be worked out by job type. Somebody working in an office / shop indoor type job will live longer than somebody working on building site or other manual outdoor job. Also they reckon that working nightshift takes about 5 years off life expectancy."

It would certainly be fairer. On the other hand, I suspect it would be impracticable. For one thing, to make it really fair you would also have to differentiate between grafters and skivers, and how on earth would you achieve that? For another, it would probably lead to more everlasting haggling about which jobs deserve what pension age.

And then, you'd never know beforehand when will you become entitled. Because of course lots of people change the kind of job they do during their working lives, some of them quite frequently, and so their pension age would change all the time as well. Yes, these days it should be easy creating software for making swift adjustments. But would people like never knowing when they can retire until actually able to do so?

Terry Pratchett: Going Postal

 

There was work to do. It was dull, but it had to be done. So he did it.

(about Moist von Lipwig, p 440)

One of the few things I pride myself on is this: I'm certainly no friend of doing useless work, but when something has to be done, I'm not in the habit of shirking it or 'delegating' it to somebody else. It has to be done, so it will. Maybe that's why my flaws were often forgiven by my employers: they knew that if I get a dull but reasonable task I'll just go and do it, rather than look for excuses like far too many of the others.

A kind of long weekend

The longest weekend one can get without taking a day off: ending a night-shift week on Friday morning, and only returning to work for a back-shift week on Monday afternoon. Meaning one can make the Saturday a real rest day, sandwiched between two days off.

I deserved it too. The preceding day-shift week was even harder than these usually are, what with some overtime every day except the last one. In fact on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday it wasn't even worth it switching on the laptop; on Tommy's birthday I only remembered about it late in the day; and towards the end I apparently pulled my right calf (still a bit stiff even now).

While during the last, night-shift week I was training a workmate; this entailed sharing the place and often the tools, notwithstanding which we were supposed to do almost twice as much as I do on my own. Moreover on two of the nights some barbarian played there loud music for a few hours, making it almost unbearable. A rather exhausting fortnight.

But as I've mentioned, today I'm having a rest day, the rain drums on my windowsill and I'm at peace with the world ...

Fadalach san obair

Chanainn nach robh mi fadalach ann an àite obrach airson nam bliadhnaichean, ach thachair e DiLuain; cha do dhùisg an t-uairedair-dùsgaidh mi ri tìde agus cha d' fhuair mi ann ach aig seachd uairean. Gu fortanach, bha seach-thìm gu leòr agam bho thoiseach a' mhìos, ach 's lugha orm sioftaichean maidne, 's lugha orm àbhaist na dùthcha gòraich seo gan tòiseachadh cho tràth 's sia uairean, agus 's lugha orm ùine samhraidh dar a bhios agam ri èirigh fiù 's uair nas tràithe.

Back shifts again

After seven weeks of hated day shifts the second March week saw me, for the first time in my current job, doing back shifts. This pleased me no end: previously I'd been alternating days with nights, and alternating days with backs is even better. (The best thing would of course be alternating backs with nights, but that's one of those things too good to ever happen.) Sure, at the moment there's no saying when they'll close the factory because of the virus and there'll be no shifts at all, but I've learned years ago that, whether for better or for worse, things always turn out quite differently from what I expect, so I just try to enjoy the good things while they last, and try not to worry much about the bad ones to come.

Day shifts going on

It was bad enough news when the company doc didn't allow me doing three shifts. Now there are so few orders for the work I'm meant to do 'primarily' that I'm helping elsewhere, which isn't too bad, but it also means only doing day shifts. I've just finished a fourth week, but I just can't get used to it.

True, I can get through the working week by getting up in the wee small hours, sitting at the laptop until it's time to go to work, then having a few pints and going to bed. The last time I even managed to do things I meant to do on the day I meant to do them before going to work, as opposed to on the following night. But being up mid-morning is so unnatural to me that I can't stick to the pattern over the weekend. I can just about manage Saturday, but on Sunday I have to return to bed after sunrise, and on Monday I have to start getting used to the day-shift rhythm all over again.

Even the day shifts' only advantage, lunches which are varied and prepared by somebody else, don't make up for the resulting tiredness and increasing backlog of things I'd like to do in my spare time. And the end of this day-shift run is nowehere in sight.

Robert Louis Stevenson: New Arabian Nights

For all active and industrious pursuits, Harry was unfitted alike by nature and training.

(about Harry Hartley in "Story of the Bandbox") 

A really good job has three characteristics: it provides you with a reasonable living; it’s interesting enough for you to enjoy it; and you can be quite good at it. So far, I haven’t heard of one in which I could get two out of three.

(originally posted on WordPress)

The year’s last commute

My last shift ended on Saturday morning, and with the trams running sparsely I decided to try and find a pedestrian route.

It proved to be somewhat meandering and longish, a waste of time as an everyday exercise, but not bad for an occasional ramble like that early morning’s one: meeting hardly any people, quietly soliloquising, and while walking past the central cemetery smelling, after months, the beautiful fragrance of conifers. (For some reason it also reminded me nostalgically of returns from some bummels of my younger days.)

 

(originally published on WordPress)

Un autre travail

Alors, j’étais dans mon nouveau travail pendant presque un mois, et il n’est pas mauvais. Pas trop facile, pas trop difficile. Il y avait une délusion quand la docteure m’a interdit de travailler en trois-huit (à cause de mon âge, le cancer et l’addiction), mais au moins elle m’a permit travailler les nuits. (Je n’avait pas eu d’équipe de nuit depuis trois ans, mais elles sont toujours plus confortable que les équipes de matin.)

Mais bien sûr, la chose la plus importante, c’est qu’il n’y a pas de radio pour m’énerver

 

(originally posted on WordPress)

Beaucoup d'emplois

Intéressent. J’ai finalement dessaoulé, plus ou moins, j’ai commencé à chercher un nouvel emploi, et dans une semaine de la première demande j’ai eu une proposition. Mais j’ai trouvé qu’il était trop difficile d’atteindre l’endroit – et je buvais un peu plus de nouveau – bref, ça n’a pas marché.

Alors, j’ai dessaoulé une nouvelle fois (relativement vite), j’ai recommencé à chercher un emploi, et même plus tôt qu’avant j’ai reçu une nouvelle proposition. Il faut qu’il y a beaucoup d’emplois dans cette ville.

Cependant, j’espère que celle-ci va marché.

 

(à l'origine posté sur WordPress)

 

Anki

Unemployment has its advantages. For several months I’ve been trying to cut down my Anki flashcards backlog, only managing to get (in a sort of two-steps-forward-one-step-back way) from 1,ooo+ cards in April to 600+ in mid-September. On 26th I got under 600, pushed on every day, and today I’ve eliminated it completely.

Time to start dealing determinedly with my other backlogs.

 

(originally posted probably on WordPress)

Third time unlucky

When I was 35 and giving my notice to my then employer, I had three reasons, the second most important of which was no longer being able to stand the commercial radio blaring there.

A few jobs later, when I was 43 and giving my notice to my then employer, I had two equally important reasons, one of which was no longer being able to stand the commercial radio blaring there.

Several more jobs later, now I’m 51, I gave the other day my notice to my employer, primarily because I was no longer able to stand the commercial radio blaring there.

Of course, there were other reasons. I couldn’t properly get to grips with the machine they’d moved me to from my initial one; the jobs at the new one meant being all the time either frustrated by glitches or bored when there were none; I had to be on my feet all the time in the factory’s uncomfortable shoes; there was even a nascent guilt from half the time producing plastic products; . . .

. . . but at the end of the day it was the radio which one day turned into the last straw. Maybe the next time I should ask whether radio’s permitted on the premises before I even accept a job.


(originally posted probably on WordPress)

Citation: Georges Simenon: L'Étoile du Nord

Jamais il n'avait pensé avec impatience à la retraite.

(concernant le commissaire Maigret) 

Moi non plus. Je n’aime pas devoir à travailler mais j’ai peur que sans travailler je ne pourrai payer le loyer pour vivre seul dans une chambre.


(à l'origine posté sur Tumblr ou WordPress)