Déjà vu

I go to work and I file timesheets. I'm thirty years old and I am doing the same kind of work I did when I left school. My career path seems to be folding back on itself.

It's only a temporary job that I have taken on, the second since being made redundant last November. I'm only doing it until I secure a permanent job doing something vaguely interesting and more impressive for a reasonable wage. It's only been six months. I'll find something soon. I will. I won't have to spend the rest of my life scrounging a living by rearranging office detritus. No I won't.

But it is difficult not to feel demoralised and worthless when, despite having tried to develop your work skills and make your way in the world of jobs, you find yourself once again doing the kind of dogsbody's work you were doing over ten years ago.