Whilst I've been signed off work with post-traumatic stress, I've found that keeping busy with the tidying up and doing odd-jobs around the flat has kept the mind occupied from what happened earlier on this month. This old mess room discussion of housing and looking for a home comes up every now and again, but recently I've been given cause to bring it up again in writing as we are in the process of looking to put our home on the market and upsize – in London.
It's not an impossible task, but compared to what our parents had to do to get a house, it is of course a little bit more of a hurdle. That said, not so long ago (well, it was the case in 1877), the company I worked for referred to us as servants. Fast-forward to now, and not much has changed in that regard in that you carry out a number of tasks that your contract tells you to do, which in turn leads to them paying you a sum of money every four weeks: A sum of money that is a lot more than the average person in London is getting.
Which is why I don't understand the ineptitude of mardy 40-year-old-somethings that have been employed as servants for a lot longer than I have – there are far too many of them floating around, with this bizarre sense of entitlement that I would associate with Generation Snowflake. You're telling me that even now, with no formal responsibilities in the form of things like offspring, you can't afford to get on the property ladder? What the hell have you been doing all this time, seriously? These servants occasionally moan about the injustice of not being able to afford to get on the property ladder, (rightly) blaming the government every so often and the ridiculousness of private rental market, but they are also trying to live a certain lifestyle of constant reinvention of their self that they can't regularly maintain whilst paying rent.
The force – of stupid – is strong with this one. I have a lot of sympathy for the increasing number of people that work in London who struggle to afford to stay when they're trying to save up and pay rent at the same time, but I've very little time for some of my fellow servants who behave like the mardy 40-year-old somethings I mentioned above. Stop feeding your NPD with stuff you can't afford (and stuff you don't actually need) and knuckle down.