It has been about a week and a half since I upped and moved all I had to the city of London. I have to keep reminding myself that a week and a half is not long enough to judge anything by, and that although I would love nothing more right now than to pack my stuff and move right back up to York, that I told myself it would be hard. I said to myself (hell, I said to everyone) that it will be tough, that I wasn't kidding myself into thinking it might be easy, that I would have to work through a lot to get anywhere, and now I have to say that to myself again. That a week is not a long time. That it will get harder before it gets easier. And I know that's true. And that scares me.
But what good is complaining? Now more than ever I have to take my own advice, I have to put everything in perspective, I need to straighten out my tangled thoughts and ideas.
What can I say for certain right now? Well, I have a job. It may be a job I have never done before, one which I have had no previous direct experience, and a job whose workers I have scorened in the past, but a job nonetheless. And I'm enjoying it. Sort of. OK, I won't lie, today was rubbish, yesterday was no fun whatsoever, but Monday was brilliant! Unfortunately one good day doesn't make a good job. Or a good employee. Targets are never something I've wanted to work towards. OK, that's a lie, I love targets.
Back in the theatre, targets were a monthly financial intake, something we had a small amount of direct control over, but which in the end was down to the number of customers and shows we had. Here, targets are much simpler. Sign up this many people every week. Doesn't sound hard. in a five-day week the target is seven sign-ups. And they make it sound easy, even enticing - every sign-up after those seven grants you a bonus! If signed up just two people every day, I would be rolling in it! Trouble is that it isn't always that easy.
Last week I got two sign-ups in three days. I was OK with that, I was new, I was getting my head around it, I set the bar at a reasonable level. On Monday I got two sign-ups and was thrilled. This was going to be my week! Come Tuesday I was bouncing, smiling at everyone, confident that another signup would be coming my way. Now it's Thursday; I still have two sign-ups for the week. It could just be the area, it could just be bad luck, but I can't help thinking about whether I really want to be doing this job.
And then one shift turns everything on its head. Tonight I managed to get three sign-ups and all in quick succession. If I'm honest, I feel elated. I've proven beyond most doubt that everything boils down to luck; today I was very lucky. The odds ran in my favour, doors quite literally opened to me and people openly offered their support. I barely had to introduce myself to a towelled man before he invited me inside while he ran to put some clothes on.. all right that sounds odd but for an eager donation of £10 a month I wasn't going to complain if he'd come back down in a full gimp suit. But luck is still the prevailing force here, save for possible devine intervention, and I remember days at the hotel which were wonderful, when I would leave smiling, but looking back on the overall experience: it was crap. I'm not saying this is going to be a crap job, but I won't let one excellent day pull the rose-coloured wool over my eyes. This is a tough job, and if I want to keep it I will have to be brilliant at it.
So that's what I've been up to for the past couple of weeks. Not very exciting, I know, but what did you expect? I have a full time job and I'm still searching for a room. I've got some viewings tomorrow so if any of them blow me away I will take it immediately. To be honest if any of them seem habitable I'll take them right away.. beggars and choosing after all.
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