As I sat down at work, I couldn't help but wonder what the hell I was doing there. I spend my days working in databases, typing reports, fixing PowerPoint presentations that are all screwed up and which, had I done them from the get go, would have gotten done much more efficiently.
And I simply can't see the point anymore. If I ever could.
Most of the time my job's OK for this type of job. I'm well paid, I'm appreciated I don't spend whole days just typing letters. So it's basically the pick of the litter as these things go.
But there is no point.
Back in the days when we wore skins and lived in caves there was a point. You went out to work, killed a mammoths and ate. You didn't kill a mammoth you went hungry. A very clear link between work and result.What is the point of playing in this stupid database?
I rest my case.
I suppose I could go out and hunt mammoths instead of databases, however, in this early third millennium, I might have a full belly, but it wouldn't pay the mortgage. Giving Mr. Banker a mammoth haunch as a monthly payment wouldn't go over too well, I'm thinking.
What really annoys me though is that I know I have it good. I know many people would love to have my life. Millions upon millions of people in the world don't know where their next meal is coming from and yet I dare complain about my life. My cushy comfortable mediocre life.
It pisses me right the fuck off that I am complacent enough to complain, to gaze at the wonder that is the lint in my navel. I have no right.
Depressed and pissed off about it. Usually when I start getting pissed off at myself I get over myself real quick. Not working this time.
I guess I'll blame the hormones. Gotta blame something.
15 comments:
I can so totally relate. Thank you for so eloquently pointing out the dilemma of modern life.
I think the majority of workers feel that way from time to time. Basically you make up for what seems like a pointless job by taking the money that you make there and having jolly good fun with it. Although there's really no talking to Hormones (they are a close-minded bunch), try explaining the jolly good fun part to them.
;)
I kind of can't see you up to your armpits in blood, gore, and mammoth innards, just so as to have a half rare, half burned, full of parasites, mammoth steak over an open fire, in front of you cold, wet, dank, cavern.
Believe me power points and spreadsheets are way better. As geewits said take the money and have jolly good fun with it. There are worse jobs... you could be working for Sanivan cleaning out cesspools for a living.
And yes I'm back after a week in Tunisia... great place, great people.
Always blame the hormones. I've found them to be a very good excuse for quite a lot of things.
Helen
You just wrote volumes in that blog; many points to ponder about life and the pursuit thereof. Yeah, blame hormones. Otherwise, as far as I iknow, it's not mammoth season.
Ian
Andy - I'm glad I'm not alone. Thanks for dropping by.
Geewits - I don't think the hormones would get it... LOL
BB - I know that as my brudder you feel duty bound to point out how good I have things just to annoy me. Trust me, I already know. Plus, you annoy me 'cause you spent one of our coldest weeks in the desert. One word: Shaddap ;-)
Helen - Indeed they are. And thanks for dropping by. All these newcomers today...
Ian - If it were mammoth season, I'd no doubt suddenly dump all my feminist principles and run the other way. Being gored? Meh, not so much.
Lint? You have lint? Wow... do you collect it, put it in a little box by your bed?
I can relate to you sista, well maybe not to that point because my company is a bunch of crazy consultants but someone close to me is going through that too. Burnout my dear, that's what it is... still lovya
But lint? :)
Sometimes you just gotta do things your own way to get it done properly!... I can certainly relate. Now regarding the mammoths... I think that where I work, some of my peers are so non techical that they belong with the mammoths!
If you feel dissatisfied, you have every right in the world to say so. And, frankly, it sounds like you're better than your job. If it's sucking the life out of you, no amount of money or comfort is worth that. Time to become a taxi driver?
Wow, it's like you read my mind. I've been thinking basically the same thing for the last few months.
I don't have any suggestions. I guess I'm just commiserating.
Foxtrot - I actually put the lint in a tiny box under my pillow.
Dave - I know a lot of those too.
Jocelyn - Taxi driver? I'd probably shoot my passengers...
Jill - Welcome to the "what's the point" club. Meetings every Monday at 8:30 am.
Are you reading Franny and Zooey?
Joe - I haven't thought of that book in ages. I read it years (decades) ago...
As I sat down at work, I couldn't help but wonder what the hell I was doing there.
That's generally my first thought Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. And on Saturday and Sunday I'm wondering why I go back on Monday.
Dan - There seems to be masses of us in the same situation. I guess we're the rule rather than the exception.
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