Jobs | Life

My Weekend is Already Over

The cruel reality of a nine-to-five job

(Photo by Ann H)

It’s Saturday morning. I know this because my phone is telling me.

11:30 Saturday, 27 September 2025.

Years ago, when I worked in Lyon as an English teacher, I couldn’t wait hard enough for Friday to come around.

I had an ongoing joke with a Scottish teacher I worked with. He always said to me: “Aye, Phil, you know, I just get Monday and Tuesday over, then I can start planning for the weekend.”

He had a point. Monday and Tuesday were the hardest two days. Sometimes I would start at 8 and wouldn’t finish until 9, charging around the city in an old Peugeot 205, teaching business classes to students who were as tired as I was.

Wednesdays and Thursdays were a slog too, and it was only when Friday swung around that I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. The light being the lights from the many bars up in La Croix-Rousse, where every Friday after classes, we headed up to the high ground above Lyon to start drinking.

The night could go either way. We might stay together as a group, but invariably I’d end up alone in De l’Autre Côté du Pont, a bar near my flat, at four in the morning.