You wake up at 5:30 in the morning—beating our good old friend the sun by an hour. Not once but twice you have resolved that you are simply going to sleep in and not go to work that day, but somewhere deep inside your mind the rational portion of your brain kicks in and reminds you that your bill collectors don't care if you want to sleep.
So you get up, eat, and get out. You're a good employee, just like all the thousands of other good employees that are clogging the highway so damn early in the morning, making your commute to your favorite place in the world just a little more painful.
This is where the magic happens.
So you're finally sitting in your own private slice of heaven that most people call a cubicle, quietly repeating "I love my job" to yourself hundred times after you receive a performance improvement notice for calling in sick two days before. You see, the powers that be do not like you staying home and throwing up in your bathroom sink 3 to 4 times while trying to get better.
Hell no, that don't fly with them. They'd prefer that you come to work and throw up on the new carpets and office equipment instead, as clearly indicated by the piece of paper they make you sign.
Once the storm is over, you're left sitting there in front of your trusty keyboard and monitor. You don't look at the clock for what feels like at the very least an hour, and you'd bet your right arm and leg on it. Upon checking the clock, however, you begin to wonder what the true meaning of life is. You figure, why not? You've got a whole seven hours and thirty-two minutes to think about it.
That's when it finally hits you. Of course, deep inside you already knew this, but your finally beginning to think about it out loud.
You hate your job.
It's not that you simply don’t enjoy getting up early... or that some days are a little long. You loathe your job and you hate what you do.
In my case, I'm personally beyond sick of having to explain the difference between the many health insurance plans that are out there to customers who are upset with our service and are demanding an explanation from me as to why they were dumb enough to choose our plan. Hell if I know.
After the customers cripple your ability to think rationally, the big guys up-stairs are always right on time to finish off whatever functioning part of your brain is left, essentially turning you into a machine devoid of any thought or emotion.
They usually always miss the part that knows it wants to quit however. Suckers.
I’m going to need one of these “boss murder witness” icons under my user name very soon.
So what are people like us supposed to do in the short term aside from out-right quitting? (Remember Mr. Bill? *wink wink*)
That’s the million-dollar question for me at the moment unfortunately. I'll figure it out eventually I hope, but I really just needed to let it all out in the mean time.