Netflix is already playing. I remember hitting play at some point, probably while the microwave was counting down. An American film. Bright lighting. People talking fast. Houses with massive kitchens.
I eat without watching properly, eyes drifting in and out of focus. Halfway through the bowl, something on screen pulls my attention back.
A man is standing on a pavement, phone in hand. The camera moves closer. He’s scrolling.
A list fills the screen.
Short descriptions. Times. Prices.
He stops on one, reads it, shrugs, taps accept.
I frown slightly and take another spoonful.
The next scene, he’s carrying boxes. Someone thanks him. His phone pings. He smiles and scrolls again.
I shift on the sofa, tucking one leg under me. The bowl tips slightly. I steady it without looking.
On screen, more jobs slide past. A dog walk. Sorting paperwork. Building flat-pack furniture.
I glance around my flat without really meaning to.
The shoes by the door, lined up. My bag hanging where I won’t trip over it. The unopened post stacked neatly, oldest at the bottom.
Organisation has always come easily to me. Not in a colour-coded, label-maker way that needs applauding. Just… naturally. Lists make sense. Systems make sense. I know what needs doing and I do it, usually before anyone else realises it’s a problem. I even have a cleaning rota pinned inside a cupboard door, which is faintly ridiculous considering the entire flat could be hoovered in the time it takes to boil a kettle.
Still. The plan exists.
On screen, the man is already onto the next thing, phone in hand, scrolling with the ease of someone who knows what he’s good at. I watch him for a moment longer than necessary.
The job I do during the day is basically a running to-do list for other people, held together by phone calls, emails, and the assumption that I’ll deal with it.
Reception isn’t one job. It’s hundreds of tiny ones. Answer this. Fix that. Chase them. Remind her. Sort it. Smile while you do.
The film carries on. Another task accepted. Another small problem lifted off someone else’s shoulders.
I frown slightly, spoon hovering over the bowl, then lower it back down.
Is that… really a thing?
I pick up my phone, curiosity getting the better of me. My thumb hesitates, then moves.
Search:Task app. Help with errands.
The results load faster than I expect.
I scroll.
Jobs. Listings. People asking for help with things that look oddly familiar. Admin. Organisation. Errands. Sorting. The same kind of requests I field all day, only here they’re written down plainly, without tone or expectation.
I shift on the sofa again, soup forgotten on the coffee table, phone warm in my hand as I scroll a little further.
Huh.
My thumb freezes.
The name jumps out at me, ridiculous enough to feel intentional.
Task-Goblin.
