Wednesday, July 2, 2014

The Working Stiff

I was thinking about this whole going to work thing.

How most of us voluntarily (sort of) get up every day to go do this thing that we hate. Day after day after week after year after decade.

If somebody said "Hey walk over here and I'll slam you in the face with a 2x4," would you do it?

I understand that it is not really voluntary, I know that is what life is for most people. I am just examining it on its most basic level.

What a bizarre reality to have to spend the majority of your life doing something that tortures you.

I think that's the thing that drives me crazy the most. The fact that I have to go. No choice. I want to be like the dude in "Office Space" and just stop going, but my gut tells me that might not be as fulfilling as it sounds.

It is a riddle that we just can't solve. If anything else caused you as much pain in your life you would deal with it. You would say "Wow, this is stupid, this makes me feel bad, I think I better do something about it."

You can't do that with a job. A job is this strange enigma that exists all by itself. It is untouchable.

There are not enough enjoyable jobs to go around.

In fact there are damn few.

So, like lemmings, we migrate towards our own suicide. (Editor's note: I used that sentence because I like the way it sounds. Apparently the whole lemmings migrating towards their own death thing has been debunked. Give Bill Nye a call.)

Working makes it difficult to replenish the soul. The job sucks such a large amount of nutrients from human essence that no three day weekend or vacation or innocent high can fill us back up.

Apparently there is no solution for this evil state of being. Let's face it, people hating their jobs has been going on since the first employer hired the first employee with grand plans of exploitation.

And the ultimate cruel irony is that we work "for a living" but ultimately barely survive.

I beseech thee, O' Lord - can you not intercede on behalf of the working stiff?

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