Wings on, time to fly

Looking for a new job is always tricky. Making up lies to go to interviews, answering your phone and then moving away from your desk.

 As the year comes to an end, I know there are many of you still hoping for a miracle so you can leave your job. Some of you are wondering whether you should quit and start your own business next year. Because, let's face it, when you hate your job, nothing can help you love it.

I used to work for a magazine that had a bureau in Joburg (where I was based) and the head office in Cape Town. One of my bosses was a woman who got a kick from calling me 10 times a day. For years, when I saw a "private number" appear on my cellphone, my heart would sink to my feet as I anticipated what was to come. She was the reason I left the company; I couldn't imagine anything worse than spending the rest of my life dodging private numbers.

Unfortunately, changing jobs doesn't always mean you're going to a better place. You may leave a company that you thought was terrible only to end up working for a place that makes your former employers look like saints.

I once worked for a man who would order food for everyone at the table during a work lunch. He felt that since he was the one paying the bill, he couldn't have people eating junk food on his tab. So he would ask you what you felt like that day: "Fish? Okay waitress, she'll have the grilled sole with veggies, no starch."

Oh, how I wish I was joking. When he was being kind, he'd give you half an hour more on your lunch break. But there was a catch. You'd only get half an hour more IF you went to the gym. And believe me, he kept tabs on the gym attendance of his employees.

Chris Rock often says that you should have a career and not a job because at least then you can go further with that. Being a waitress is a job and being a chef is a career. See the difference?

But the problem is that we choose our career path at an age when the only thing we're concerned about is how many pimples show up on our faces. By the time you realise that maybe IT is not for you, you've bankrupted your parents or it's too late to turn back and figure out what you really want to do.

There are few of us who, like DJ Fresh, drop out of varsity hoping to become successful international DJs. Most people end up just DJing at 21st birthdays in White City, bumming on people's couches and sitting in the passenger seats of their friends' cars.

But at other times, we strike it lucky and have pleasant bosses who encourage us, allowing us to fulfill our potential while also paying us well.

We've all been in that position where you hate your job so much that every Sunday you contemplate suicide. And when Monday comes, you start to wonder whether you shouldn't travel to work with a shot or two of whisky in order to cope with the sadness of having to go to a building you hate, with people you don't like.

This is why we often marvel at people who love their jobs, as if it's some kind of a miracle to encounter someone who has managed to find that ever-elusive "job satisfaction". These lucky people don't leave their current positions because they're desperate, they leave to expand themselves.

I recently became one of them.

So, then, we come to the moment I've been dreading. This, dear reader, will be my last column. I was hoping this day would never come but denial only delays the inevitable.

The past year writing this column has been exhilarating: it has alienated some friends but has also brought me joy. Urban Miss is the casualty of my starting a new job. I want to thank all of you who followed me on Twitter and wrote to thank me for some of my columns. I also want to thank those of you I offended - writers need a reaction, even when negative, and at least that means someone is listening!

I will miss writing for you more than you can imagine. So this is not goodbye, it's more like see you later at a different venue.