Work Sucks

Work sucks. I think this goes without saying. Which is a good thing, because I’m sick and tired of saying it.

Maybe because saying it doesn’t seem to do justice to just how horrible and shitty work really is. A majority of our waking life is spent doing crap we don’t want to do in the desperate hopes that we’ll get recognized, get salaried, get savings, and get freedom. No, this job is not my passion. It is a means to an end. No, I don’t want to go to a seminar to expand my knowledge of my field. And don’t you dare give me “homework.” Just give me my paycheck and I’ll save more until I can quit. Maybe some day, many years from now, I’ll have worked in purgatory long enough to actually afford to buy my way out, have my own land, farm, and live the life I want to live. For now, I guess I’ll have grind out another day.

Its so sad hearing people talk about what they want to do if only they had the money; be it starting their own coffee shop, farming their own land, travelling to Romania, whatever.. just as soon as they save enough money. I mean, I’m sure there are people out there that really want to simply work. yea, they exist. I’ve met ’em! Even with a bank account that could finance a third world revolution, they continue to work their job. They love the title, the benefits, and all the junk they can buy with the winnings. Hell, that is their dream. Don’t make it ours. So let them keep the jobs. I’m cool with that. But why can’t we come to some sort of compromise? They can crunch numbers, make millions, and buy speedboats and Von Dutch shirts and we can do what we really want to do… whatever that is.

For all our lost years spent in the trenches, working in other people’s dreams, dodging shrapnel, we get just two single syllable words: work sucks. I feel so unfulfilled after saying it. Many times, my entire day, the walk to the bus, the ride into Seattle, the  8hrs of office time spent behind a desk, the ride home, and the hours of decompression afterwards; they’ re all spent brooding over the absolute detestment for this god forsaken thing they call a full time job, and all I get is Work Sucks?

No. I going to need someone to go ahead and come up with a work spiting catch-phrase that is so good that it’ll makes my pupils dialate and an overwhelming sense of calm roll over my entire body. I want my allakazam, my open sesame! That magical phrase that makes me feel like I’ve been dipped in sunshine and then I can just float through the rest of the work day with ease. Or just give me my fucking farm.