This is funny! Another entry from the diary of New Escapologist contributor Dickon Edwards:

Archway Video offer me a full time position. After much agonizing, I decline. I effectively turn down an enjoyable job in a pleasant part of London, within three minutes walk from my bed. It’s not the money; I could do with the money. It’s not the use of my time which I could be spending on more creative acts; I know all too well that having nothing to do all day often means one ends up doing… nothing all day. Even Mr Larkin continued to stamp library books until he died.

It’s the responsibility. Working full time would mean me locking up at night, and I just don’t trust myself. My accident-prone Frank Spencer side would see to it that sooner or later Something Would Happen. I’d find myself counting the days to being sacked in disgrace. I just couldn’t take something awful happening on my shift. The place is unique. Much of AV’s back catalogue video stock is deleted and irreplaceable. When _Before Sunset_ (“one of the most romantic films ever made”) came out last year, AV was one of the few places one could get hold of _Before Sunrise_, the film it follows up. As you might imagine, many people wanted to watch this first film again. Rather startlingly, it was currently unavailable to buy on any format. Bit of an oversight on the film company’s part, I thought. Possibly something to do with rights. Regardless, the AV video copy suddenly found itself upgraded from Weekly to Overnight, and has been constantly rented out ever since. It can finally get a break soon, as both films are finally released on DVD next month.

Pretty much every paid job I’ve ever had has featured me breaking something, or ruining something, or getting told off constantly. At 18, I worked in an Ipswich video shop. One night, the police called. I hadn’t set the shop burglar alarm properly, resulting in a blaring siren waking up half of Ipswich. Which, as you might imagine, is no mean feat. I had to be driven into town to reset the alarm.

Then there was the time I worked in a convenience store in Bristol circa 1990, which also rented out videos. One day, I unplugged their computer from the mains, in order to plug in the hoover. Result: the computer’s entire video rental records were wiped. It was one of those old ’80s computers that needed to be closed down properly before switching off. I can still remember my tears as I was frogmarched to the filthy shop basement, plunked into a seat and told to wait till the manager arrived. Which he duly did, in a bad red tracksuit. The clothes some people wear when they’re not meant to be at work. He couldn’t sack me; they had trouble getting staff on their wages as it was. But the manager gave me this big pep talk – no, a lesson – about The Trouble With Me. About how I had “a monkey on my back”. Or was it my shoulder? He said, “Some day, you’ll thank me for what I’m telling you now.”

Well, I can’t remember a word of what he said. Just his appalling taste in clothes. That showed him.

Then there’s the soup I spilled on a customer during my shortest ever job. I was a lunchtime waiter in a Suffolk pub. Hired and sacked within one hour.

And then there’s the countless times I was Sat Down and Told Off about The Trouble With Me at Our Price, Hampstead _and_ Holloway branches. More tears.

I recall the time a friend told he’d met one of my erstwhile Our Price colleagues. “I used to work with Dickon, you know,” she said.

Pause.

“Everyone really hated him.”

I really did my best at that job to Get On and Work Hard. And if anyone I used to work with is reading this, I’m sorry if you hated me. I didn’t hate you. What was it I did that annoyed you? Or didn’t do? Perhaps you’d like to tell me about the Trouble With Me. Everyone other employer has. The usual email address.

Then there was the village pub washing-up job where I was attacked by their three small yapping dogs, ripping the bottom of my trousers to shreds. I wouldn’t have minded, but they did it _every day_.

You see, Dear Reader, this is all very amusing for you to read, but I have to _be_ me. This isn’t a sitcom, it’s my life. I’m 34 this year. I think I’ve effectively put the case for me being Unemployable in most normal jobs that other people find so easy to do. You can’t accuse me of not giving the things a go.

Ye gods, what a history of woe. And this is only a fraction of my Record of Employment. The more I think about it, the more I feel the world truly does owe me a living. So the deal I have made with myself is this. I only have the right to turn down a pleasant full-time job if I treat writing like one too. Really, this time. Get up and clock on. Songs, stories, and at least one diary entry a day.

Above all, I know Archway Video could do better than me, and I would feel guilty occupying a position meant for someone else. _I_ wouldn’t hire me to lock the place up at night, so why should they?