I’m twenty-six years old, and my wife keeps telling me I have a problem I dont want to admit.
She says it every time I leave a job or get fired.
According to her, its not normal that the longest I’ve managed to hold a job is six monthsand honestly, shes right.
Sometimes I last a month, sometimes just a couple of weeks, and sometimes I dont even make it through the probation period.
Ive worked all sorts: maintenance, cleaning, street sweeping, scrubbing bathrooms, carrying boxes in warehouses.
I always start out keen, but after a few days, it weighs on memy body, my head.
It’s not just the exhaustion.
It’s the shame.
I finished school up to Year 11, never went back.
Whenever I start one of these jobs and they hand me a hi-vis vest and a broom or a mop, I feel like I dont belong.
I look at my colleaguesresigned, quietly getting on with itand deep down I tell myself, this isnt my life.
Soon enough, I start turning up late, working half-heartedly, finding excuses not to go in.
Eventually, they call me into the office and tell me not to come back.
My wife doesnt understand.
Shes worked in a shop for four years.
The pays not great, but its steady.
Every month, she knows exactly what shell get.
When I come home, jobless again, she looks at meanger and weariness in her eyes.
She says, Its not the work, its you.
You cant stick at anything. I tell her these jobs arent for me, that Im made for something else, that I wasnt born to clean bathrooms forever.
That makes her even angrier.
She tells me to finish school, get a qualification, learn something proper.
She says no one will hire me for other things if I dont even have a diploma.
I promise Ill do it, but the months go by and I never sign up.
Theres always a reason: no money, no time, Ill do it later.
The truth is, Im scared.
Scared to go back to school as an adult, to sit next to younger people, to feel like Ive fallen behind.
Its become routine at home.
We argue about the same thing.
She says Im a dreamer, that I talk big but do nothing.
I say shes settled, shes learnt how to survive instead of living.
Sometimes we shout.
Sometimes we dont talk for days.
I go out again, CV folded in my pocket, looking for work, and return disappointed when they say, Well give you a ring.
The worst bit isI really do dream.
I dream about having my own business, not relying on anyone, not feeling embarrassed in my uniform.
I dream of waking up early for something thats mine, not obeying orders.
But dreams dont pay rent or put food on the table.
And she reminds me of that every day.
Is it true that I have a problem I wont admit, or do I just have the right to dream of something bigger?
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