I am desperately looking to escape from the dysfunctional, lawless and abusive mess that the land of Brexit, Boris and Andrew is. But you’d have to finance my move. I am literally penniless; in fact, I have been without electricity and warm water for four months at the moment, although I must say that this is fairly common in Britain. I made a decent enough income until I was stupid enough to move from lifeless dreary Southampton to Portsmouth, which is little more than a sadistic mess, filled with little whiny and hostile Boris Johnsons. Need I say more?
In 2004, I made the, now in hindsight disastrous, decision to leave Amsterdam to move to England, with the idea of returning to the US a few years later, to resume a career in academia. Moving to England was financial, social and professional suicide. I got stuck here. And England and I don’t click. I have made four unsuccessful attempts to leave England behind me, twice of which on foot. I had no money. I still have no money. At the time of writing, I have been without electricity (hence also without warm water) for four months. I have often lived this way in the past ten years. It’s quite normal in the UK.
I have always been highly driven, a concept that is totally alien to most of the English. Enthusiasm is not done here, initiative frowned upon. The pace is very slow here and people here have no idea of what a deadline is. They don’t get the idea of someone working late to meet a deadline, they have no notion of what excellence is. They always strive to get away with the least possible effort. And they get a big kick out of wasting other people’s time.
With my apologies to the handful of English people to whom this does not apply. I know you exist.
Every country has these people, people who love leaving your urgent requests to approve the purchase of badly needed equipment sitting on their desks or in a desk drawer. But this is much worse in England because this is often the only sense of power, of agency, people can get over here. By frustrating and sabotaging others. Sadism.
When I arrived in England at the end of 2004, I was a marine biogeochemist and I do have that background but as I haven’t been able to keep up with the field, I can no longer contribute in the field and I would be useless in the lab too. What I can do, however, is manage things, oversee things, make sure that things run smoothly, liaise with people, spot bottlenecks, solve problems, and even mediate between staff or between departments.
I am totally unsuitable as an admin person. I am not the kind of person who loves to spend days at a desk entering data into databases and all that. I am also totally unsuitable for a paid position of salt pillar.
If you want to get in contact with me, please send me a phone with enough call credit as well as your number in its memory and video software installed with you as connection and an explanatory letter from you by courier, signed for (not “aangetekend” if you happen to be based in the Netherlands as “aangetekend” mail is treated as ordinary postal mail over here). Address it as follows:
6F Kingston Road
Portsmouth PO1 5RZ
England, United Kingdom
As you can read elsewhere on this website, the reason for my misery is a phenomenon known as sadistic stalking, which has included extensive hacking in my case. The people in question wouldn’t bother me in the US as they’d be too concerned about the possibility of being extradited to the US.
I’ve already made four attempts to return to the Netherlands.