I’m at a strange point right about now. I’ve been reflecting a lot on the things that really matter to me and the things that really don’t.

In March I took up a new position with the company I work for. It’s still in the financial services industry, so it still has nothing to do with anything I’m educated in or passionate about, but it was a step up in terms of money and lifestyle (not so much late notice travel out to the middle of nowhere) so at the time it seemed like a logical step. But more and more lately I feel like I’m in entirely the wrong place. I’ve realised that, as glamorous as it might seem from the outside, I really don’t care that much about the Financial Services Regulation Act.

As a company, we’re having a drive at the moment to update all the contact information we have for our members. We’ve had a lot of trouble implementing the drive because we’ve discovered that most of the staff, including me, have an automatic script that runs in our heads as we verify a member’s identity and tell them how much money they don’t have. It has taken an inordinate amount of effort to convince people to add an extra step to ask members if their contact details are up-to-date. It’s a little bit depressing to realise that your job is running on auto-pilot to such an extent that you can’t change your routine even if you’re supposed to.

So I did something a little bit weird this week. I put in an application to join The Punch as a cadet.

In Sydney.

It would be a dream job for me. After five years of Far From Home/Cum Tacent Clament the idea of writing online articles for a living is almost too good to be true. And in a lot of ways it is. I would imagine that every journalism student in Australia will have applied for the position, so I’m philosophical about the chances of even making the shortlist since I 1) don’t live in Sydney and 2) am a little old to be a cadet (I turned twenty-mumble plus one today. Egads).

So now I have to figure out what’s more important: My dream of actually being able to call myself a writer instead of a blogger, or my dream of investing my time into acheving something meaningful for the local church in Darwin. I felt compelled by the sheer awesomeness of the position on offer with the Punch to apply for it, but if I leave Darwin now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to look myself in the eye.

I’ve got another job application pending with the Northern Territory public service as a media liaison officer. As usual the Business and Employment Department are taking their sweet time about getting back to me. Taking on that would be a much more conscionable idea, although if the unthinkable happens and I have to choose between them, the indecision I’d feel would almost be enough to split me in half at a quantum level, resulting in two Garrii, one of whom could go be a writer for a national website while the other put his head down and got on with actually achieving one or two of the things he’d promised to.

So for the time being I’ll keep banging my head against a wall of FSRA compliance requirements and crazy old ladies wanting to check their balances.

Make of that... whatever you can. Good luck.


Garry with 2 Rs

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