I wish I may, I wish I might ...

Okay, so complete confession time (nah, not like that, you may be disappointed now) - I want to change jobs.

It's not a huge confession, I've been handing my CV out since I started working at a well known American owned fast food restaurant (Mmmm, notice how I didn't say which company it was?)

It's not a completely bad company to work for. I'm not here to slag it off, or say I wish I never worked for them. The things that make me want to leave are little things, but it's actually really hard to find a job these days that'll give me what I want. And what I actually want from a job?

-decent hours that coincide with my son's school. So majority 9-5 Monday to Friday. Right now, I am doing evening and nights Wednesday - Sunday. Monday's are sleep-days (I work overnight Sundays) so I get one day with him. One freaking, stinky, lousy day. And he's at school 6 hours of that. So our rare Saturdays together I'm like "what do I do with you?" which isn't the most motherly thought in the world.

-steady hours as well. So if the work day is 9-6 I work from 9am until 6pm. Not like I currently am, where that then ends up being 8.30am - 8pm or whatever ridiculous shift it ends up being. There's no need for it. I don't mind overtime in the sense that it's been negociated beforehand, but it's actually ridiculous being expected to stay. Add the overtime to how often I see my son.

-a job where I won't get called in, even on my holiday, because someone else is sick. I did a Monday overnight after two weeks off, but that meant I didn't see my son at all that week. I actually got followed by someone else at work to be asked, from my house into town, despite seeing this woman at the school gate an hour before and having a conversation where I said I'd be at a meeting in a few hours time. What the actual hell, right?

-to be treated like an adult. I'm 28, the days of being treated like I've broken a rule because my hair is down or put nail varnish on or wore a ring should be over. I know it's about food safety, I get that, but I've had 8 years of stubby nails and ears repierced five weeks a year and hair that's hurting my head because it's always in a bun to go under my hat. I don't want to face a warning because I failed on one account (I mean, I haven't had one because rules intimidate me in the stupidest way, but there's potential. And you read that right, I'm intimidated by rules. Like, as a manager I'm entitled to eat whatever the hell I want whenever the hell I want on shift. I have the same, or less, than the crew. I felt like a rebel yesterday because I had a cheeseburger on shift, then took nuggets and mozzarella sticks home. What a greedy bitch, right?).

I like the idea of working on a computer a lot as well, rather than being all over the place, risking burns and papercuts from boxes. You shouldn't go to work and be unsurprised by first degree burns.

My friend Cat has an awesome sounding job. They're hiring right now. I applied last time, and although I made the first shortlist, I didn't make the next. So I'm really hoping I go further this time. If I got it, I could put my son in breakfast club again, drop him there, go to the station, get the train, work however long, come home, put him to bed, and see him most weekends. It's a pretty simple dream, right? And then I can work on my books in the evenings. I could wear Joe Browns every day if I wanted, I wouldn't have neck scarves covered in milkshake and bleach and mustard. I could wear nice flats instead of shoes encrusted in grease.

I really want to work with Cat too, to see someone I care about every day rather than people I sort of know and can get on with but don't have a bond with otherwise, and we can cinnabon it up (because she's the only other person I know who loves cinnabon).

On another level, I still get incredibly tired from TTP, even though it's almost been five years since I had it. I may never not be tired. Doing shift work leaves an ache that I just can't seem to get rid of, and regular hours means regular sleep, means I might somehow start to escape that feeling that never leaves my muscles, ever.

I really, really, want this job.