I love my job. I know all of you know that. I talk about it all the time with a stupid beam across my face and I am so passionate when discussing with potential clients what the benefits and safety aspects of teaching your baby to swim at such a young age can encourage. I love watching the numbers in our database climbing and I love listening to phone calls from satisfied parents, saying they love swimming with us. I even get some joy out of reading the newspaper articles from clients from other franchises, who have accidentally fallen into a pool and managed to get themselves out without the help of their parent.
But. And there is one.
I am not earning a lot of money for what I do and, what’s worse is I know the company has it’s own problems. But I am feeling a bit undervalued. The more flexible I am, the more they seem unable to give me any overtime. The more eager I am, the more likely they give overtime to someone else who needs the money. Who doesn’t need the money?!
So I am on a mini-venture to look for a part-time job alongside my full time position. I have applied to 2 part time (or casual, if you work in leisure…) positions today for the same company. If I end up getting both, what a bonus that’ll be! Honestly, even if I earned an extra £100 a month, that’d go such a long way (read: I would stop stealing from my savings).
The downsides to having a part-time job are few. I had a part-time job when I worked in London for 4 hours a week at £13.50 per hour and I wasn’t overly taxed. I don’t mind my weekends being eaten up, particularly. As long as I spend some time with Jay, obviously. One of the shifts is from 6pm until 10pm, which again, I don’t mind. Sleep is for wimps. I just hope I get one of these positions to support my nights out and the puppy and such.
Obviously, and it is without say, that my full time position comes first. That is my primary income and, at the end of the day (God, I hate that phrase!), I signed a contract with them first. Plus, if all goes well, I might have a job where I can feed the older swimmers into.
Fingers crossed for me, readers. This time next year, Rodney, we’ll be millionaires!