where am I?

I haven't posted here for a long time. Fact or opinion?
I haven't had anything to write about. Opinion or emotion?
I haven't had the time to write. Emotion or physical state?

Who knows?

What matters to me is that I feel inspired to write. And that's what got me writing poetry in the first place. Today I finished working on a full time job; the first I've had since the end of 1999. The job was started as a stop-gap; a way of earning money; a way of getting back into the world of work. Wow. What a concept that is - "the world of work". It suggests that people who don't work regular hours at a defined job are not actually working. Try suggesting that to people working their socks off at part-time activities.

The truth is that I've worked on lots of things since 1999; they just didn't involve being an employee at a company that paid regular salary cheques.

And just now I read an article from a friend of mine; he said "if you want to find out someone's values, look at what they're doing". So I thought about that in the context of the job I just finished. What was I doing there? And I started to answer the question like this:

I'm bringing light to people in darkness. Not the bright white light that asks "how much did you sell today", but the warm glow that says "how do you feel about not knowing what to do or how to do it. How would you like to feel more in control?"

What do I mean? Well, this. The client was a big commercial company that expects its staff to sell, sell, sell. But the company is a bank. A bank whose customers expect them to provide access to their money whenever they want it, and somewhere safe to leave it when they don't. Those customers don't want to be sold at. One customer even asked "can you please put a marker on my account telling your staff not to try to sell me stuff each time I come in?"

And guess what? A manager moaned at me for daring to recount that story "because it might demotivate her staff from selling".

And this bank is in the middle of replacing every computer system with new ones. They have made lots of decisions; most are of the kind "we go ahead with the plan, no matter what". And line managers demand more sales, just because their bosses keep demanding more sales.

And no-one really cared that the front line staff have been suffering for months, each time a customer tries to do something and the computer stops it happening. I've been in there these last 15 months, coaching, supporting and doing what I can to ease the pain of those front line heroes. And now the bank has said "enough of that, we're done, no more support". But the line managers look at me in disbelief and say "how can you leave now? who will save us?"

And it hurts to leave them like that. But in truth it's been hurting me to stay in that environment. No poems; no photos; less singing. I'm better off out of there. I just wish I could help my friends who are still there.

That's what's important to me. I care. And the last of the local line managers I saw today said quietly as I said that: "yes, I know you do." So maybe someone has noticed. A victory. One of many.