Back to index of Nerve 13 - Winter 2008

Diary of an office worker

I'm an administration assistant and have been working part-time for £6.00 an hour for the past two years. This is a day in my life.

A MONDAY MORNING, somewhere in Liverpool…
9am: I stroll in the office with a gob on as it's Monday and I hate that day, it's always busy.
9.05am: Peter's head appear at the door: "Are you busy? Do you mind doing some coffees for the meeting upstairs?"

My eyes must be going through him but he doesn't notice. Making tea and coffee is not in my job description. But since we moved to the temporary offices, we have no catering service and I have quickly become the servant of the building.

9.15am: I'm preparing the drinks in the kitchen while Peter is chatting to Maria in the corridor. I've got lots to sort out today and those two are just flapping around doing nothing. He could have done the coffee himself! Saying that, it is probably below him to do such a thing…
9.30am: I bring tea/coffee/biscuits to the meeting while up to twelve lazy managers are thanking me for the amazing products I have provided them with.
9.45am: I have managed to switch on my computer and open my inbox, where 32 emails are waiting for me to take action. Can you please: "order a new cartridge; answer an enquiry from the public; get toilets unblocked; contact the technician?" I can't be bothered with all of this.
9.50am: Pam's head shows up at the door: "I have a bit of laminating to do, would you mind?" Of course I mind, but can't really say no, can I? "OK just bring it in and I'll sort it."

The pile of laminating is huge. There are at least 35 slides to do and it will take me at least an hour. I better get started if I want to do my regular admin duties. The diary meeting starts in 10 minutes, by the way, so I do a few slides beforehand.

10am: Sitting in the diary meeting listening and noting what everyone will be doing over the week: "Meeting Lord Mayor; brainstorming; exhibition launch with wine and canapés; meeting, meeting, meetings…" When it comes to my turn, I mumble: "As usual, admin, admin, oh and admin"
10.15am: Back at my desk, inputting the information into our diary sheet.
10.20am: Ann puts her head through the bloody door: "I have a presentation in 10 minutes, do you mind setting up the laptop and projector for me?"

I shake my head, grab the laptop and head into the library to plug all the stuff in. The team really need some training on IT equipment… I have become the IT expert and it's not in my job description again. Surely I should get £6.50 an hour.

10.30am: Back at my desk to finish the diary sheet
10.35am: A pile of post is thrown on my desk and I start sorting it. Pam's head again at the door: "Is my laminating done?" No, I'll sort it! Give me a minute!
10.45am: I'm feeding the laminator as fast as I can when suddenly; a fusing noise and a smell of burning reaches me. Broken again, how am I going to finish all those slides?
11.10am: I've found another laminator and feed it frantically, hoping that Pam's head is not going to show up again.
11.55am: I've now finished the laminating exercise and most of my emails have been opened. I book catering for another meeting, input enquiries into my database, answer five phone calls and photocopy three forms. I would murder for a cup of tea.
12.00pm: Managed to get my cup of tea and now emptying my in-tray where more work has been waiting for me: "Forms to be signed and dealt with; material to file or circulate; typing to do; meetings schedules to finalise…" I wish I was at home reading a good socialist book.

The phone keeps ringing between 12pm and 1pm. I have no chance to do anything else. While I'm on a call, Amy's head shows up at the door: "Have you got time this afternoon, I need you to take minutes at this meeting. OK?" Have I got the choice? "By the way, it starts at 1.30pm." I'd better grab a sandwich beforehand…

1.20pm: I swallow my lunch as fast as I can, while prioritising the workload I've still got on my desk.
1.30pm: The meeting is about to start and I run up the stairs to discover the library is scattered with empty cups and saucers, a banana skin and a Tesco bag full of rubbish! This is driving me mad! All those managers can't even be bothered to clear their own mess!

I have become the cleaner of the building since we only have two cleaners operating between 10am and 12pm. And it is not in my job description… Surely I should get £7 an hour…

3.30pm: Covered eight pages with notes. At least I'm back on my desk, but I'm trying to deal with three hours of work in one hour. I really want to go home soon. The afternoon post is even bigger than this morning's.
4pm: Andy strolls into my office and starts to go on about his work issues, stressing me out. Sarah dashes in: "We've run out of toilet paper!" And what do you want me to do about it? Just leave me alone. I reckon people should complain to the boss instead of me, maybe something will get done…
4.30pm: Moving piles of files into the archive room. I've been assigned to this task in my capacity as furniture mover; this is not in my job description either.

Is it just me being too soft or are they taking the piss? Surely, I deserve £7.50 an hour.

Printer friendly page

Sorry Comments Closed

Comment left by Jon on 4th December, 2008 at 14:12
If the purpose of Nerve 13 is to question how wage slavery is forced upon us, then this is an admirable and much-needed avenue for exploration. I agree with the author of this piece insofar that, if they contribute significantly to an enterprise of some kind, they should deserve decent remuneration. (That said, I think GBP7.50/hour should be a minimum wage, rather than thinking that some other people deserve to toil for GBP6/hour).

However, I suspect that the author believes that the minutiae of running an office would disappear in a socialist utopia, whereas I contend that it would not. There'd still be people, specialising in one task, who would believe that non-specialists should do the humdrum work. There'd also, to my mind, be people too lazy to do their own cleaning, laminating, setting up of equipment and the like.

On that basis, a core issue here is whether the worker blames the ills of their colleagues on capitalism, rather than with the collegues where it sometimes belongs. What I am saying here is not intended to be harsh criticism of the author, who is doing something that many office administrators do: accepting far too much work. It would change the working life of the author if they were to occasionally say "no" to the various people using them as a servant.

The reason why none of us don't like to use the N-word in the workplace is that we feel it makes our employment less secure, or perhaps it prohibits 'progress' up the ladder. But being able to be assertive, and to simply say that one has far too much work, perversely *generates* respect. Suddenly the individual is seen as someone who stands up for themselves, rather than meekly accepts everyone elses' drudgery without question.

Where a worker is overworked, ultimately the quality of the work must suffer, or they "have to" work overtime for no extra pay. This is not acceptable for the worker (working for free) or for the enterprise even in a capitalist environment (worker exhaustion, reduced morale, lower quality of work). On this basis, where a worker declares, politely but firmly, that they will no longer be overworked, a new job can be created. Thus, if a worker refuses to stand up for a better quality of work-life, they are not only harmimg their own well-being, but they may even be depriving another worker of a job.

This is not intended as a defence of capitalism, nor that the new theoretical job (of unrewarding work) ought to be welcomed with open arms by the new worker. But I do think that the assumption that socialism will eradicate humdrum toil is both popular and false, and that we need to challenge it. We furthermore sometimes need to amend our own approach to work, in order that we are not been worn down by it.

Comments are closed on this article