If I could have any job in the world I would be a rhinoceros running through the grasses of Tanzania, or maybe a superhero, flying through the sky above a bright city rescuing strangers from minor crimes.
No, I wouldn’t.
My dream job isn’t weird, or ‘wonderful’, or glorious or adventurous. It is what it is.
I work for an anti-bullying charity on a part time basis and other than the odd ‘is there anything I actually have on my list that can be done today?’ moments, I love it. I love the organisation, I love working with the children and young people who come here.
Bully Free Zone saved my life; not literally (I wasn’t at risk of suicide), but without them I wouldn’t have the quality of life I have built up.
This has been the job I wanted for years and I have it.
What you don’t know, however, is that my lovely, small, local charity that has been my life for so long, is at the risk of closing. We’re £50, 000 short of keeping going for 12 months. It’s not just us, the financial climate is poor and the voluntary sector is struggling. But it hurts, it physically hurts (if I let myself think about it), that a place that helped me become me is probably not going to be here anymore. Come March there will be no volunteers, there will be only one member of staff and a laptop trying to help these children who have suffered from the effects of bullying.
It’s sad and as much as we try and find funding, there’s not a lot else we can do. It might work out, it might not. I keep hoping for some kind of miracle. Yet, in reality, it’s not a television show, £50, 000 won’t come flying in on the day before we’re due to close saving us from ending the work of this fantastic organisation.
So yeah, my dream job is here, it’s what I do…and it’s about to be ripped away from me.
Maybe my new dream job should be finding some way to become filthy rich, if only to fund this life saving organisation.