Man, the hour hand really moves slow when you're watching it. And I mean seriously watching it, not just casually checking the time every once in a while or anything like that. For some reason my work decided to give everyone watches to celebrate some event or windfall or something. They're not very good watches. They say JAPAN MOVT on the face, but the bag they came in says Made in China. My one has lost about 12 seconds since I reset it 3 days ago, and the second hand doesn't correctly line up with the graduations on the face (a pet hate of mine when it comes to watches). I don't even wear it, I keep it next to my 'puter at work. And, because I'm so bored, I watch it. I stare at it for minutes on end, because as dull and borderline depressing, and perhaps slightly disturbed as that is, it's usually more interesting than work (7 more work days to go at this shitty job, btw).
And the hour hand moves so painfully slowly. So incrementally. I pick a mark or feature on the face as a point of reference, and I watch it. The minute hand I can deal with, and the second hand is definitely my favourite, although it's effectively pointless. But the hour hand, the one that really matters... it kills me. I'll stare at it until I get tunnel vision and the colours start to go out of whack a little bit, until however I'm sitting gets uncomfortable and I have to move, until I don't know how many times the second hand has passed across it, and it's moved, what, maybe a micron? All that time wasted, all that boredom, all that feeling of futility, and it barely even registers. It hardly even matters.
Sometimes, the only way I know time is passing is because I write down how many hours I have to go when I get to work, and cross them out as they pass. I know how many seconds each day I need to be sitting at my desk making it look like I'm working, I know exactly when the half-way mark is, I know exactly how many minutes I have left until I can go home. And through all of that is the hour hand, painfully counting off microns of boredom like it's got nothing else better to do.
And the hour hand moves so painfully slowly. So incrementally. I pick a mark or feature on the face as a point of reference, and I watch it. The minute hand I can deal with, and the second hand is definitely my favourite, although it's effectively pointless. But the hour hand, the one that really matters... it kills me. I'll stare at it until I get tunnel vision and the colours start to go out of whack a little bit, until however I'm sitting gets uncomfortable and I have to move, until I don't know how many times the second hand has passed across it, and it's moved, what, maybe a micron? All that time wasted, all that boredom, all that feeling of futility, and it barely even registers. It hardly even matters.
Sometimes, the only way I know time is passing is because I write down how many hours I have to go when I get to work, and cross them out as they pass. I know how many seconds each day I need to be sitting at my desk making it look like I'm working, I know exactly when the half-way mark is, I know exactly how many minutes I have left until I can go home. And through all of that is the hour hand, painfully counting off microns of boredom like it's got nothing else better to do.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
miss_cellophane:
I hate working in a place like that. Either give me something to do or let me do my own shit. Soon you'll be in that new job. Tho I know its not soon enough.
greekdevils:
Holy crikey! Reading that just made me think of making a movie about every single word on your blog. Flashes and lots of music and a pair of eyes moving left to right left to right. Well, that was a very accurate and descriptive way of work in general. I suppose we should find jobs we love, but I say fuck work period.