There's a rumour of possible promotions going around our place. It lingers like a bad smell, permeating every conversation and hovering over us throughout the day. Before we go any further, let me get something straight. No one here with an ounce of sense wants a promotion. Promotions are not a good thing here, unless they mean more cash and less work, which would not be the case. We're beyond ambition where I work. For many of us life is dreary, but life is also peaceful.

For some reason, I've been told that I am a possible shoo-in, which comes as a huge surprise to me as I've been doing my level best to keep my head low and my standards lower since I started here. A promotion (or rather a hint at promotion) is bad news and I must think of some way out of it. If I don't apply, I'll be labelled as a layabout with no ambition which, despite being a largely accurate description, could lead to my work life becoming intolerable.

There was a woman who once worked here. She had charm, intelligence and good working relationships with all her colleagues and clients. However, like most of us here now, she couldn't care less about her job. She once told me that if she could earn the same money delivering Chinese food then that would be okay by her. I don't think she meant it literally but I know where she was coming from. When a post came up that would have seen her climb the ranks she decided, having two kids at home and a life outside the office, not to apply.

Bad idea.

She was asked why she didn't want the job, and she diplomatically responded that she was flattered to have been considered without even applying, but that she couldn't take up the post due to personal commitments.

In other words, her life didn't revolve around her job. As time went on she got less and less to do and the things she did get to do were pretty menial.

Eventually she left.

And now there's a promotion bullet out there with my name on it.

I've thought about it. The job is a step on the ladder to fully-fledged management. It requires more imagination, more drive, more stress and, yes I'll admit, more prestige and a bit more money. Here's my problem.

The ladder here is not a very steep one.

A pay increase is never that substantial, it builds up over time. In other words, seeing as I've reached the top of my payscale here, my next increment after promotion will be at the bottom of the next one . . . an absolute maximum of 10 grand. After tax, that's about six into my hand. Per year. Now divide that down. It's a little over 100 a week. And that's being optimistic.

But money and prestige aren't the issue. I have football training on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I have kids that are in bed by 7.30pm. When I get home, the last thing I think about is my job. My weekends are two-day work-free occasions and when I get sick, I simply take a day off. In other words, like my ex-colleague, I have a life outside the office.

If I get this cursed promotion that's all out the window. And for what?

Well, basically, I can afford to sit, stationary, on the M50 for three to four hours a day in a marginally better car.

A marginally better car which I'll have to sell to afford the divorce terms I'll be faced with in 12 months if I apply for and take this promotion.

I can of course go to the interview and intentionally make a hames of it, but that's risky. They could give me the job anyway. I made a hames of the interview for my current job without even trying and look where it got me.

I can pass up the opportunity for medical reasons and stipulate that I want to be considered for the next promotional opportunity. That would at least buy me some time but I may just be delaying the inevitable.

Ultimately, I have two choices.

Firstly, I could thank them for the opportunity, tell them how flattered I am, pass it up for personal reasons and begin searching for another job.

Or secondly, I could apply for the post, do the interview, get the position and then, yes, begin searching for another job. Either way the end result is the same and it appears as if, barring the intervention of a second, more talented, enthusiastic candidate, my days here are numbered.