Secs in the city

Everyone finds their job annoying. That's why it's called a job, rather than "hobby that pays my mortgage" or "chief cocktail tester at the Ritz". But it's one thing being vaguely irritated with your employment; another to make moves to, well, move.

Similarly, everyone does things that aren't technically work at their desks, but it's different when that thing is applying for another job.

I thought I was immune to workplace guilt. But this is like having an affair. There I am, cosily surrounded by my colleagues. And all the while I'm writing to someone else: "I'd rather be with you." I have a new-found sympathy for Jude Law. Cheating is hard.

Not to mention obvious. I am now tempted to install laser surveillance and early warning systems round my desk, since every time I become engrossed in my CV, I am guaranteed to be interrupted by a colleague suddenly popping up over my shoulder, saying: "So, about this report. Do you think we should ring-bind it or - what's that on your screen?", causing me to leap seven feet in the air and break out in a sweat of guilt and shame.

It's hard to escape from reality in your own office. Elsewhere, you could sink into a reverie of self-delusion. At your computer, you can happily type something like "I am capable of creating and managing efficient systems" into your covering letter, but it is not the case. Unless you count the concept of "if your boss looks like he's going to have a stroke when you say you've lost something then it's probably important and you should try to look for it, otherwise it's probably just in that pile over there somewhere" as an efficient system.

On the other hand, I pity the person who opens my application, in case they believe it. There may be a version of me who never forgets to order new staples or put meetings in the diary, or manages to wipe important messages by mistake, but only in an alternative dimension. What would I do in an interview? "So, tell us about a time when you've really excelled yourself in your job?" "Would you be interested in the time that for the first Friday in living memory I didn't just stop working totally at 2pm, and managed to make not one but two phone calls in the afternoon?"

Maybe I shouldn't put in too much effort. Maybe I can't expect too much from my job - but then they don't expect too much from me either, and that's just the way I like it.