Wednesday, May 23, 2007

The sad truth about the 9 to 5

Sigh.

Every job is like a bottle of wine.

Some are bad from the start. Some have merit when you first pop the cork.

But all of them -- no matter the label, the price or the savor of the first taste -- turn to vinegar eventually.

Everyone who is not independently wealthy or born with a silver spoon, will eventually find himself gagging on acetic acid, whether his or her daily bread be earned in a factory, a florist shop or the helm of a cruise ship.

4 comments:

Eastcoastdweller said...

Then eventually some boss would blame you for blowing up the wrong building when it was actually his fault for tranposing a number on the demolition order.

Chase March said...

Speaking of demolition experts. I work with very volatile material, a class full of ten year olds. Sometimes they frustrate me to no end and I explode. It is a tough job, but to me, most days it does not feel like a job. I haven’t had a day that I have not wanted to come in to work. I think the important thing is to find a job that you enjoy and to remember day in and day out why you are there. Unfortunately, this isn’t the case for a lot of people.

Eastcoastdweller said...

Most of my jobs have been doing what I love, writing in some form or fashion, so I am indeed blessed.

The problem comes when blockheads are put in charge, with the power to cause sorrow and suffering by their incompetence and boorish personalities.

And it seems to be an eternal law that blockheads always end up in charge.

My sister is a teacher, too -- loves it to death. She spent years suffering under a supervisor who couldn't light a fire if you gave him gas-soaked paper and a burning match, but could sure turn the screws on people who were trying to do a good job.

My dad cares for people in a nursing home-type setting. Loves that work. Has people in charge of him who make the Grinch look like Mother Theresa. Schemers, liars, evil.

Eastcoastdweller said...

I've been a telemarketer, too. That is the Job from Hell. All day spent annoying people, trying to get them to give up their money.

We had some stupid sing-song script that we had to memorize.

Telemarketers are human mosquitos.