What Do You Do?

Meeting people is always a minefield isn’t it? Especially when they have absolutely no pre-conceptions of you. I think that’s the scariest thing about being introduced to people - one word in the wrong place, one instance of saying “there” instead of “their” and you become, to that person, the bloke who can’t speak properly (or tell the difference between talking and writing). The only point of reference of you that they have is what they see in front of them – the scruffy trainers, the lazy week old beard, the speed at which you down your Jack Daniels and Coke, and what you happen to say at that particular moment. You could be caught at the wrong time- your mum might just have called to tell you that she found all your old dusty records in the garage and she’s given them away to the local charity shop for nothing because, well you don’t have a record player anyway do you, and they’ve just been sat in there for months on end, for instance – and you’ll be forever remembered as the grumpy git who keeps thumbing his phone.

But what do you say when you meet someone? Once you’re past the “Hi, how are you, nice to meet you” bit, then things get a little more difficult. Unless of course, the conversee answers the “how are you?” question with a bit of creativity and panache, which is something I’d recommend if you’re trying to engage someone in conversation longer than the requisite thirty seconds. Ultimately, the easiest question to ask next is “so, what do you do?” – a question that I hate. What do I do? Well, I sleep a lot of the time. Sometimes I’ll have a poo. Once or twice a month I’ll try and clean the crumbs out from underneath the keyboard of my laptop. But the question, of course, refers to one’s line of work, the activity that one engages oneself in in exchange for cash; but my question is as follows – when did this become so defining? I work in accounts, in credit control to be specific, but if anyone ever asks me what I am, the last thing that I would ever say is “I am a credit controller” (actually, to be pedantic, my actual job title - working for an American company – is Senior Collections Specialist). It’s not something that I would say makes me what I am, and I’m sure most people my age would agree with me, apart from maybe professional sportsmen, or people in the forces. I think this is something that is new to this generation- work is considered a necessary evil in order to fund the activities that actually make you who you are, but I don’t think this was ever so. I’m sure my Granddad working on the railway in Barry in the 40 and 50s would have introduced himself as a Railway Engineer without hesitation. Even my Dad would no doubt introduce himself as a Sales Director (or whatever it is that he does these days). What has changed?

So what do I actually do? It’s hard to introduce yourself as a writer, or a singer, when there’s no actual money exchanging hands for your efforts (as yet…)- as I say, the question seems to rely on cold hard cash, and any actions during your “spare time” are tossed aggressively to one side, even ridiculed. “So you’re a writer? Ha ha!”. Using this logic, I consider my spare time taken up by work, and the activities I do outside of work – writing, singing, drinking, enjoying myself - as the main part of my life. Isn’t this a much better measure of who you are? After all, if you do end up turning your new acquaintance into a fully blossomed friendship, what part of you are they going to see? Unless they traipse to work with you everyday, the nature of your job is irrelevant to them; the person that they will end up spending time with is going to be the person who you are outside of that realm, and the things you do outside of work will be the things that will directly affect them. I’m a completely different person at work from the man my friends know. I’m quiet, unassuming and speak with a strange Southern accent. Ask my friends what I do and they won’t be able to tell you. Even to my closest confidents, my job is irrelevant.

So don’t laugh at me if I say I’m a singer in a band, or that I enjoy reading about the Napoleonic wars. That will hurt. If you’re going to laugh at anything, laugh at my job title.