Why did I want to learn to be a magician? Pt 5 – How I ended up in an office job
October 14, 2019
I promise, I never thought I would be able to drag this story out so long, and as soon as I’m more or less up to the present day, I’ll get back to my ramblings on the whatever magical topics pop into my head!
We left off with our hero performing in a stimulating environment, with a great team of people, a fantastic atmosphere and a somewhat chaotic home life. I say chaotic because I was living in a house with eight people. It was messy, disorganised and we had parties pretty much every day of the week. It was amazing.
We even had one person who lived in the garage and paid rent by cleaning the house, which we never policed, hence the messy house. It was a brilliant place to live as a performing magician though, always willing spectators and lots of bizarre and beautiful people coming in and out every day. It would have been a contributing factor as to why I dropped out of university to pursue magic full time. (I may have already mentioned this fact, but I was living in this house at the time, so apologies if things seem out of order!)
That’s a bit off-topic, though.
During a Christmas break (again, my memory of the timeline may be shaky, so you’ll just have to play along), I had headed back to the UK. Then I had gone on further to go on to spend a month working on an animal reservation in Namibia in Africa, which was run by an old friend of my father’s. They had met during the time he was raising a lion in London (a story for another time I’m afraid).
During this time away from Australia, I got very pigheaded and arrogant about my success as a magician. While in London, I made silly money working at restaurants every day and night of the week, along with a few private gigs. This went to my head and convinced me it was time to move back home, so I could go from being a big fish in a small pond to a big fish in a much larger pond.
I returned “home” to Sydney and began to get things ready to return home to my family. I had other reasons other than being full of myself, but that was the primary factor.
My family had already moved back to the UK years ago. They had initially come with me to Australia, given that my dad was from Sydney originally and my brother needed a change of scene as badly as I did. Now though, we would finally be back together again.
Upon arriving back in London, there was, of course, the usual flurry of excitement around the returning of the prodigal son (sorry, never had the opportunity to use that when referring to myself and couldn’t resist). That was, of course, great fun, and I rode that wave as long as I could.
It wasn’t long though before it became very apparent that all of my previous work upon being in the UK could be attributed to the novelty of having a magician from overseas in the area. The work just wasn’t there for me this time around. It also wasn’t the Christmas period, so significantly fewer gigs going around.
I spent far too long sitting around waiting for work to arrive that simply would never turn up. After months of sitting on my arse, I got a bar job. To fill the time, get some extra spending money and give me a reason to do some actual work for a change.
I enjoyed the work for a time. Before long though, I was reminded why I had been so quick to quit working as a waiter/server/bartender when I first became interested in magic. It sucks, but you already knew that. In case you didn’t, please be kinder to wait staff. They have it far worse than you, and it costs nothing not to be a dick to the people who serve you.
This inspired me to get a “real job”. That’s right; I became a corporate suit. An extremely underpaid, overworked corporate suit, but it was all the same. I still can’t believe I was excited about that job back then. I had no university degree, so there weren’t exactly companies lining up to hire me. I got a job nonetheless working as a “Marketing Data Analyst”. A fancy name for an office whipping boy. Admittedly my team were lovely, and I am doing them a disservice, but hey, never let the truth get in the way of a good story.
Looking back, I should have seen the warning signs that that was not the place for me. I won’t go into all of them, but the big kicker that should have set me off, was when two weeks in, I had to get outside as quickly as possible to hide the fact that I had burst into tears. Every fibre of my being was quite rightfully telling me not to be there.
It would be two years before I quit to pursue magic again.
Another part is coming up tomorrow I’m afraid. I know, it really is dragging on, isn’t it... Previous Post Next Post