I worked 12 hours yesterday, and I can honestly say, it ain't for me.
I started a new job yesterday morning, and I have already been booked for interpretation in the evening, months ago, so, there was no way out. Plus I had to do Yoga at 7am in order not to fail the challenge.
So, my day started at 6:30am, with devouring a Luna Bar with chocolate chips, and ended at 10 p.m. watching TV like a zombie from my bed.
I'm still tired. I'm sipping a latte.
Oh, yesterday, by 12pm, I so regretted accepting this new position. It was completely conveyed to me under false pretenses.
It started well, with a briefing about an interesting case. But then, when I was handed my load of documents, I was hoping a few were just financial before I got to articles and statements.
I ended up analysing financial documents for seven hours, after which I wanted to shoot myself. Instead I called my employer and said that I either have to be paid much more money for this kind of work (which I knew she wouldn't go for) or can only work part time. She hasn't gotten back to me yet, and I feel like hugging random people on the street.
I cannot even imagine going through the same routine even for one more day. It's hell to me. I kept thinking about how happy I am when I'm writing. Even teaching, which I have been doing for 10 years and increasingly am getting bored off, is New York City compared to reading tax reports in Serbian.
My apologies to all the accountants, but your life is my living hell.