Very few people, myself include, could say that in all honesty, they have never started a new job without even the slightest bit of enthusiasm. Most of us view a new job as a new start, the opportunity to finally find a career that fulfills our creative desires and satisfies us both intellectually and financially. Sadly, this optimism tends to decline as the weeks go by until it eventually abandons our psyche in a mass exodus that leaves us head down at our desk weeping uncontrollably. For this reason, a new job is very much like a used car.
When you are in the market for a new car, all memories of the last 'dream machine' that almost ruined you, are forced to the darkest recesses of your mind where they are joyfully recycled into fond memories of summer days with warm winds gushing in through the sun roof (which, by the way, used to let in more water than an open sluice gate).
With these cheerful memories to hand, you take yourself to the nearest used car dealer. It is here that you see it. Sparkling away in the sun, alloy wheels refracting light like the window of H.Samuel, is your new car. It's recently been waxed, and with the smell of your friends admiration and jealousy tickling your nostrils, the seduction is complete.
Having handed over your hard earned cash (or your credit card details if you live in 'Borrowing Britain') you smugly drive away from the forecourt full of pride and enthusiasm. It's at this point that you notice that the interior light fails to illuminate when you open the door. Oh well, nevermind you say, you never really use it much anyway and you can always fix it in a few weeks time.
A few weeks have passed and, unsurprisingly, the interior light still remains suspiciously dark when you open the door. Sadly, the interior light isn't the biggest problem you have anymore, a strange knocking noise fills the cabin whenever you change gear. Nevermind you say again, the MOT is due in a few weeks and you're sure it'll be an easy fix for the mechanic.
The day of your MOT comes and the list of necessary repairs is really quite long. In actual fact, your shiny and sweet smelling new car is now a pile of bolts, rubber seals, and interior light bulbs, with a distinct smell of burning. Thankfully the burning fumes are masked by an overpowering smell of disappointment and you can barely see your car through the smoked glass effect created by your tears.
In the same way that your new car seduced you, only to end up crushing your heart between it's oily cogs, your new job will eventually reduce you to a smouldering pile of crushed dreams, broken aspirations, and crumpled P45s.
It's a shame to end it here, but annoyingly, I have an interior light bulb to fit!