The Unidentifiable Factory Job

I have a job in a factory.  It’s something on the administrative side, possibly involving the gathering or processing of data.  It appears that I am contriving to spend time not actually doing my job.  I am managing to get away with hanging out on city streets, looking in shops, going to cafes and visiting friends of mine who are at home.  When I do go back to the factory – where men are working at big lathe-like machines – no one seems to be aware that I am skiving.  Not only that, but the truth is that I can’t actually remember what my job consists of.  When I talk to other people in the factory, especially to any other admin workers I encounter, I try surreptitiously to pick up clues about what it is that I am supposed to be doing there.  If I am directly asked about anything that I am doing, I seem to be able to get away with bluffing, using what little I do know to give an impression of someone who knows what he is doing.  I’m starting to feel increasingly guilty about this.  Everyone in the factory seems to like me and to be quite happy with whatever it is that they think I am doing.  I feel that I owe it to them to be doing my job properly.  If only I knew what it was…