I love a bit of Shakespeare. Maybe it’s because I’m a drama queen by nature, maybe it’s because he was so fond of the old tragedy – which, frankly, is quite often how life turns out (albeit hopefully in microcosms, as in “I broke the heel clean off my new shoes!” as opposed to “I just found my lover dead beside me so although I’m only a teen, I, too, shall commit suicide!” kind of tragedies).
Reeling out the “to be, or not to be, THAT is the question” with some dramatic flare seems rather appropriate at the moment, in a time when I’m at “that age”. And I’m not talking about babies this time.
I’ve always maintained that I wouldn’t want to run my own business. Apart from the fact that I’m entitled to annual leave, I’ve really never fancied the thought of having to be responsible for absolutely everything. At the end of the day, even if I do feel stressed, working for someone else means I’m going to get paid.
I’ve also always liked being part of a team (although strangely, back in uni days I did a personality test for a job and the one piece of feedback they came back with was that I was “not a team player” according to my results. Harsh.) and benefited from the experience of others, and being able to bounce off my colleagues.
But these days, I’m not so sure.
For starters, I don’t get to choose who I work with. Sure, I have some control over the team who report to me, but at my level and above? I get what I’m given.
I also have to adhere to policies and procedures whether I agree with them or not.
My ideas can be vetoed, and my advice ignored.
I have to work where my employer wants me to, the hours they want me to, and the days they want me to.
I have to compromise. A LOT.
And while all of the above are not all bad, all of the time….well, there are days when the combination can really get you down.
So. To be, or not to be, my own boss? That, I’m afraid, is just the start of the questions.