Deadlines

Looking back I've realised that the jobs that involved working to tight deadlines gave me the most satisfaction. The best jobs are the ones where you can look back at the end of the day and see how much (or little) you've achieved. They can be looked upon as little victories (or defeats). They make the job more interesting.

I've written in previous posts about the deadlines we worked to in the bank. I also worked to tight deadlines when pricing up invoices at a frozen food company. I've worked at places where deadlines were non-existent or so lax as to be worthless. Those tended to be the jobs I hated. I'd find myself staring out of the window rather than doing my work, and getting bored by the minute.

Is it the protestant work ethic? Does the devil make work for idle hands? Is work actually good for us? I've been unemployed a few times over the years and I have to say I prefer to have a job, even a bad one. Just the act of getting out of bed and going to work gives structure to the day.
Having a job with an easily understood set of objectives set against a structure that has built in deadlines makes the day go quicker. If the working day goes quicker, then the evenings and leisure time come that much quicker too.

In the early seventies I worked inthe sales office at Telfers in Cadby Hall, West London. It was just along from Olympia and within a fifteen minute walk from my flat in Shepherds Bush.
There were three of us responsible for answering the phones and taking orders for pies, sausages and burgers that found their way into almost every chip shop in London, and every works canteen across half the country. Briefly, a customer would ring up and order his requirements for the next day's delivery. Our job was to take his order down, allocate it to the correct van salesman, and ensure that enough product was manufactured in the factories. One factory was in Cadby Hall and the other in Stratford, East London. We'd place a preliminary order by ten in the morning based on previous sales and whether it was raining or not (and other factors, like how much stock we were carrying from the previous day). As the day progressed, the pressure increased. There was a deadline for the customers to ring their order in, and the phone calls got more frantic as the deadline loomed. There was another deadline to order the goods from the factory. In between those times there was half an hour when all the loadsheets and spreadsheets had to be added up and cross balanced. And all done without computers.

The days would fly by. At that time I was playing mandolin in a traditional Irish folk group collective. The lineup of the group fluctuated according to whoever was available, from a basic five piece up to fifteen or so. It was loose and tight at the same time. We played pubs all over West London and at one stage played every night except Mondays, and twice on Sundays, all in different venues. It was great while it lasted.

It ended when Telfers decided to move out of Cadby Hall. The sales depot moved to Isleworth and production to Northampton. I didn't fancy commuting to Isleworth from Shepherds Bush, and there were brand new houses available to anyone who relocated to Northampton.
We were paying £8.50 a week for a grotty two room bedsit with a leaky roof and shared bathroom and no heating. They were offering a brand new three bedroomed terrace house with central heating for the same weekly rental.
No contest.
It was just that the job I took was shite.